Boarding, Babies, and Ballistics

I went snowboarding on Friday with my dad. It was lots of fun; the snow was great, the lift lines were short, and the sun was shining.

After some snowboarding, I baby-sat my nephew for awhile. He was extremely tired, but refused to take a nap. I tried rocking him in silence, singing him the songs that I usually have success lulling him into Dream Land with, pacing around the house with him (he likes being carried around), telling him anti-climactic stories, and doing just about everything I could think of, but he would just not fall asleep. He was so tired that he just wanted to cry. And cry he did. His crying resulted in him getting even more tired, which resulted in more crying, and so the cycle went. Every time he'd start to calm down, it's like he'd just realize how tired he was, so he'd start crying again.One diaper change and an hour later, he'd slept for about three minutes and cried for about forty.

At one point during his crying, I realized that he was acting just the way I (and I think many other people) do sometimes when I am extremely tired, stressed out, and upset- I just start crying. And then I realize I'm crying and why I'm crying, and cry even more. And then I can't sleep because I've been crying, so I become even more exhausted and do more crying. And then I reach a point where I've forgotten why all of the crying started in the first place and realize that I'm just one runny-nosed, wet-faced, exhausted mess that would be much better off if she just stopped adding to the pile of dirty Kleenex and went to sleep. So then I laugh at myself for being a tad bit ridiculous, close my eyes, count sheep until my heads stopped pounding (actually I don't count sheep- the whole thing with doing unnecessary math right before bed doesn't work for me), and try to not let the same ordeal happen again for at least another four or five months. (Thank goodness I rarely cry; I would go crazy if I had to deal with myself like that on a regular basis. Crying is no crime; it's just exhausting.)

When I realized that my nephew was acting like a teenage girl, I said, "Miles, you're funny. You act just like me when I get upset." And then I laughed at him. He did not seem to appreciate my comment or laughter, though. He just looked at me for a second in disbelief- totally shocked that his aunt was being so cruel as to laugh at him in a middle of a sobbing fit- and then began crying at and even greater intensity. I guess the truth hurts at times, especially when one's tired. I don't blame him for being upset at me- it really isn't very nice to laugh at someone when they're crying. I'm sorry Miles...

Luckily, the little bloke calmed down and was laughing by the time his mama got home.

On Saturday, my dad and I took a little trip out into the desert to do a bit of light shooting.

Spelling 'fun' M-4.

All of that shooting caused me to wonder, "Why is it that spies never wear ear plugs?" Shouldn't James Bond recognize that wearing earplugs isn't going to make him stand out any more in a crowd than driving around in super shnazzy sports car does? He's always running about and shooting. Doesn't he know that guns are loud? I guess that hearing about eighty-nine too many explosions has given him such poor hearing that he no longer notices the blasting in his eardrums.

Had my dad been wearing a tux and no ear protection in this photo, he could have passed for 007.


Always remember kids, firearms are not toys!