You Don't Believe the Story of the Great Pumpkin?

It usually works out well for the youngsters that their mother is short on common sense and long on fun...our season's first pumpkin patch visit was in Longmont, about 40 miles, one-way, from Castle Rock. About mid-way home, the need for somebody to stop me was most apparent.
The Rocky Mountain Pumpkin Ranch was just that, but still reminded me more of the corner Pumpkin Patches in Orange County, only a lot less warm and a lot less crowded. Lots of already-picked pumpkins and those little over-priced carnival rides, but great eats: hand-dipped caramel apples the size of my head. The boys' term for it was, I believe, "Perfect." But without a hayride and pumpkins I can pick myself, I'm still unimpressed.

The haybale maze was a hit all-around..

...and as is typical, Shane made his way straight through without running into a single dead-end, which kind of wounded the pride of his older brother and sister, who claimed to be running into every nook and cranny of the maze just for the fun of it.

"No, really, Shane. I don't want to make it the whole way through."

Roller coaster of love... no bolts or screws missing, and no casualties!

I will be so crushed when the day comes they no longer find these things fun...

Eve and the world-reknowned Colorado camel...we've been to lots of petting zoos, but have never encountered a desert cruiser.

More of the same...whomever invented hand sanitizer, all hail to you! Your place in heaven in secure!

The Greatest Love of All

Whitney Houston provides the inspiration for this post...no, really.

Before any soccer season starts, Ty's emphatic that he DOES NOT want to play, that we signed him up without consulting him, and that it's too hard, he's too tired, and that he will miss too many episodes of Sponge Bob. But, after the first two practices, he's feelin' the love...
Ty's second season with Colorado Elite...and because if I can't say something nice I shouldn't say anything at all, we won't discuss the league further. But the coach? What a hottie! And so professional, so good with the kids! Will you pass a note to Coach Crawford for me? I think I have a crush on him.
By some miracle, I caught the blaze of white standing still. He's just pausing to do the math: how many goals did I score today? He's at a great age for team play, and dad's talked him into accepting the little-known adage: it's better to assist than to drive 'em in yourself. Pass it on!

I choose to believe, just for legal purposes, that Ty's not going to directly kick the skull of the prostrate child on the ground. Intent counts for something! But again, it just does the heart good to see your boy give himself to something so wholeheartedly.

I Love Sister, She Loves Me

Most days Matt and I are staggering across the finish line: too many bodies, too many agendas, too many clothes and shoes, too many extracurriculars, too many responsibilities. But then the magic moments come, illustrated in bold, as to why we live life the way we do: I couldn't imagine my life without even one of these littles, and I can't imagine their lives without one another and the things they love to do. It's beyond demanding and beyond exhausting, but the greatest gift we ever gave them is the gift of their siblings: their particular ages and genders, their particular personalities and dynamics all make for an amazing crew of people who, friends notwithstanding, make home where they always want to be.
Let's pretend for one second that I somehow control when my babies came to the world. Pause here to let your laughter run its course.
How easy would it have been to just stop at three? To have missed out on our young Grace Caroline would have just sabotaged the whole operation. Easier? Maybe. Emptier? For sure.

Eve, Ty and Shane were natural swimmers. Gracie's her mother's daughter, however, and it's been slow-going with getting her water-safe (which, because mommy can't swim, becomes a huge essential come summer), but these last three weeks of swim lessons have been phenomenal. Maybe it's Ms. Carolyn, maybe Gracie's just ready. Either way, rock on wit'cha bad self, girl!

Floating!

Freestyle!

Will the Crawfords add yet another Castle Rock Cruiser to the team next season?

Castle Rock's Fire Department sent some representatives and a huge pumper truck to library storytime for the kids' climbing and exploring pleasure...they took the time to suit up in front of the kids to prep them for any future emergency, when, maybe trapped in a room or a house, a little one wouldn't see some huge monster breathing in a mask, making Darth Vader noises, but a "firemens" coming to help them.

The most remarkable thing? Gracie was all over what I was sure would be termed a "boy" activity...maybe she's just starting early with the whole Fireman as Fantasy thing.

Danke Shoen

Because the gods smile down on us more often than is usual, the parental units of the Crawford Crew were honored to celebrate our 16th wedding anniversary with a trip to Chicago.
Not that a town like this isn't on everyone's agenda to visit...but it was further down on our list of potential candidates until U2 announced the 2nd leg of their 360 tour with a September Chicago date. Other people save to go on cruises; we save up to go to as many U2 shows per tour as possible. Splurging every four years doesn't seem too excessive, does it? Don't answer that.

These pix come courtesy of Matt's extreme bravery; atop what will always be known as the Sears Tower (which, thanks to capitalism, is now the Willis Tower) are not only killer views of Lake Michigan, Chicago and other communities up to 50 miles away, but a ridiculous feature hanging off the side: a plexi-glass-bottomed viewing box. Sheer lunacy, I tell ya.

Just for perspective. From the sidewalk. My husband was in a plexi-glass-bottomed box. All. The. Way. Up. There.

We attempted to re-create Ferris, Cameron and Sloane's infamous Day Off in Chicago: Sears Tower, Chicago Stock Exchange, a walk-by of the Art Institute of Chicago; the Von Stuben Day Parade actually took place on Saturday afternoon, but, as you'll see, we had a conflict.

We took in a Friday afternoon Cubs game, which was impressive on a lot of levels. Not the Cubs, per se. Notwithstanding its smaller capacity, they managed to sell that sucker out on a Friday afternoon when the team is underperforming and has no shot at post-season play. Even more noteworthy: the sheer inebriation of a Chicago crowd. For any event. The rule of thumb is that the further East you go, the more alcohol and cigarettes consumed. But not even New York could match the ratio of beer-to-person intake...it was spectacular. And I suspect that a Cubs game, as well as any other public gathering, just serves as a convenient excuse to obtain more expensive beer than you could normally procure at your own home. Just a theory.

You know. The fancy fountain from the opening credits of "Married With Children." Which, coincidentally, we are.

Chicago River from Michigan Avenue. If time would've permitted (read: if we weren't so in love with napping), we would have loved to have been on one of those barges. As it is, we are so in love with napping. You see the dilemma.

American Girl Place, Miracle Mile. No joke, it's a full mile (I guess) of spectacular architecture coupled with high-end shopping, and this is the grail. Kinda relieved Eve didn't accompany us, she may not have survived the experience of wall-to-wall, three-story delights offered here.

Late Saturday afternoon, Soldier Field, U2's "Spaceship" stage. We've finally gotten smart and realized that camping out all day doesn't necessarily give you an advantage; a five p.m. arrival got us plenty close, that is, until show time, when the solid sea of kneecaps forced me to decamp a little further out, which, ironically, gave me the prettier views. Super-tall Matt stayed put and got the good pix you see below.

Paul David Hewson, or Bono for the unitiated. Spend as much time as you'd like with this picture, it never ceases to amaze. Go ahead. Take your time.

I've decided that I'm not only too old to be camping out, I'm also too old for opening acts. Although I'm sure Snow Patrol is loved in certain quarters and are upstanding individuals, I didn't fly cross-country to be novacained by them. The boys from Mt. Temple are what I came for. Others did as well, but, as I mentioned, they mostly came for the beer and Guinness. But it's all good...whatever funds you expend in order to save Africa will do.

Edge and Larry (with his very own conga!) flanking Bono as he prowls...spectacular show, but, as I've often said, they could stand up there, belching and juggling, and I'd be just as smitten. I'm so enamored of the new album material and fairly swooned over their live handling of what is a true studio album...anytime you see "Where the Streets Have No Name" performed before your very eyes, you get teary. If you have a soul, that is.

The video screen dropped into this cylinder for "The Unforgettable Fire", Matt's favorite U2 track and a lovely pat on the back to the old-school fans and their loyalty. Soldier Field was a nice enough venue, but our Zeke could have better handled admission and dismissal: imagine 70,000 people with one(!) 12-foot gate providing a way out. Then, once you've labored the hour to leave the premises, the long, single-file line to the trains...ridiculous. So if Chicago gets that 2016 Olympic bid, best of luck.

Maybe You Could Educate My Mind

Gracie's livin' out loud: beginning her Pre-K career with the fabulous Ms. Kendall at the Castle Rock Rec Center's Adventure Club Preschool...the very definition of happiness! Our last little Crawford to begin their '09-'10 school year, and what will I do with 6 hours per week of child-free time?
Gracie's the proud owner of the most beautiful Ariel backpack, in which she will, three days a week, bring home her various paintings and art projects...she can also carry an amazingly overpriced stainless water bottle decorated with all manner of Barbie propaganda. You can tell we firmly discourage marketing to children in this household.

Parked firmly on a square boasting some sort of creature with tail fins, patiently waiting to sing "Icky Bicky Soda Cracker/Icky Bicky Boo/Icky Bicky Soda Cracker/Who are YOU?" It ain't Yale prep, but these folks run a top-notch program and we're all thrilled she has this opportunity to fingerpaint, share and sing with the best Castle Rock has to offer (at the best price!).

On with the dance! let joy be unconfined...

Thank you, Lord Byron...

The Dancing Queen returns for a second season, feeling confident and even a somewhat superior. She knows which strip of tape to stand on and everything!
She's got a smile that heals me...lyrics courtesy of Billy Joel. Lord Byron he ain't, but I have to laugh when she reveals me...

Grace loves Miss Marilyn and her class; summertime break was torture. And I have to hand it to her: every week they do an opening routine to the Archies' "Sugar, Sugar", and what once was my great guilty-pleasure song is now shared by my youngest daughter. Let the bonding begin!

Why you get into this parenthood racket in the first place. She loves me! And, as Dickens says, "It is no small thing when these creatures, so new from heaven, love us."

A Master Jedi, You Are

If it's early September, you know two things for sure: 1) it's soccer season in Colorado; and 2) the Crawford boys will be in uniform. This year, Shane rocks the Green Jedis!
During the first practice, Shaney scored 5 scrimmage goals, and in an effort to bond with his teammates uttered the words every coach loves to hear: "Are you glad I'm on your team?" It works on so many levels! He is, however, a good team player, both as a passer and scorer, though his specialty continues to be defense. If only you could tackle, soccer would be the perfect sport!
When the coach asks which goal you're heading for, isn't this the standard league-wide response?

Doin' the do.

Don't Have a Cow

Our California friends probably think this is an everyday occurrence, but this was noteworthy: cattle, just beyond our back fence, turning tail and heading into the Back-40. No idea where they came from, how they got there, why they were there or where they were headed...Only thing we know is that I wasn't the only one to call the police and that it took the rancher another 12 hours to come up and herd them with his pickup. Day after day, Zeke waits on our deck, patiently awaiting their return.