HAPPY HALLOWEENIE

LOVE, TREYSON ROCHE

"IF YOU WERE A HOT DOG, AND YOU WERE STARVING WOULD YOU EAT YOURSELF?"

Dad is a Sucker

Somehow, magically, Treyson always ends up in my bed at 530am.

Hmmmmm.........

I wonder how he ends up there.

I'll tell you this much. I am NOT up that early.

Luckily, he sleeps in after a full belly.

Please notice the amount of space he takes up and his feet straight up in the air.

OH, and trey said "MaMa" today.

Trevor assures me I am dillusional.

But, I heard it.

I did.

I guess that tells you who the cooler parent is.

Anorexic.

I have come to the conclusion Treyson is anorexic.
He's a REALLY good baby (and you know, I'll be honest) and eating is really the only area of his life which causes me to break out in hives.
All I hear is how great people's babies eat. How chubby they are. How they can't get enough.

Well, Treyson HATES to eat.
We've tried it all, baby jar food, mixed with breast milk, homemade baby food, mixed with formula, fruits, veggies, meat, our food chopped up etc etc.
He's skipping meal after meal.

And the only thing I can get in him is kiwi and Ritz crackers (and maybe two breastfeeds.)
That is, if he doesn't chuck them across the floor.

And yes, I called my pediatrician who tells me the same thing every time,
"A baby won't starve himself".
I'm wondering if I should get a new pediatrician.
or if a diet of Ritz crackers and kiwi would work for him.
I bet that's what Angelina Jolie eats.

maybe trey has parasites from ecuador.

I don't know if anyone else will find this video funny. Treyson just has this little smirk and attitude like, "You can't make me do anything!"
He did come from the two most stubborn people alive.

The Latest Roche Debate

I am not a dog person. Or an animal person in general. (This creates an issue considering animals are our livelihood. ) I just think they smell. And, I already clean up enough poop. Cow poop. Treyson poop. Trevor poop. (don't ask).

Before you think me heartless and cold, let me add. I always grew up with dogs. I think my dislike began when we got Corky the corgy dog. (Truth be told..I don't even remember his name) He was this little UGLY weiner dog that had a permanent red rocket and was constantly humping objects. Any object.

It traumatized me.

I digress.

Recently, I expressed to Trevor how scary I think it is out here. No city lights. No close neighbors. Dirt roads. It's a horror movie in the making. I'm just waiting for Freddy K. to come knocking. Granted, we are probably more safe here than in any suburb, but in my head, it's scary, especially with Trevor often gone.

He suggested a dog. Dogs will protect and warn if someone comes around the house. Again, not a dog person. Anybody followed this blog long enough to recall what occurred last summer when Trevor went behind my back, after I told him NO WAY, and got that stupid dog?

Yes, World War IV. Might I just add, that Trevor grew to HATE that dog due to the fact it was a HORRIBLE cattle dog and actually CHASED the cows away rather than gather?

sweet victory for me.

That dear dog now belongs to another owner.

So. Trevor wants to get another border collie. I, however, have found my heart in a less common breed as I have a special place in me for all things less fortunate looking. For some reason, I think the cutest things (babies, animals etc) are the really ugly ones.

Is he not adorable?

I'll let you guess what Trevor had to say about the idea.

Or about the $1700.00 price tag..

so. We remain dogless.

Pooping makes your eyes bluer.

Trey turns really red when he poops. This picture is just after the dreaded push. It's hilarious! It's crazy to see how BLUE his eyes are getting. I hope all my babies are blonde haired and blue eyed.

Gettin Hitched

My best friend from the days of high school is getting married after 4 years of patiently...patiently waiting. :)



So excited for her!
(and yes, she really is that hot)

Why I Married Trevor (Don't worry...you won't throw up)

For years, I told my girls I would marry a "mountain man crossed with a financial planner".

My friends were less than enthusiastic.

After all, we were in the capital of all things metrosexual, daddy paying for life, skinny jeans, and "sweet bros".

KILL ME.

Anyway. On our first date, Trevor picked me up in his Chevy Silverado Turbo Diesel (Or Whatever they're called. You know, the ones.). POINT.

It was NOT jacked up. POINT.

It actually had a ball on it for attaching actual trailors and hauling actual things. (Not just big to compensate for other less than sizeable parts). POINT.

He had a Reba McIntire CD case lying on the floor. POINT.

He had a gun under the seat (not on a gun rack. hello, "I'm trying to prove I'm manly and cool.") POINT.

Trevor struggled in other areas. For example, he does not believe our children ever need to be "cultured". Our first real fight (in the Provo Temple parking lot late one night....Hello, loser BYU coeds) was regarding our children going to ballets.

Trevor's words "There is no way in hell our boys are going to the ballet." (Mind, you. Trevor NEVER curses. I am a sailor in comparison) Apparently, he felt strongly about the issue.

We still argue about the same things. But, he's improving. He even went to Phantom of the Opera with me once. (Thanks to Emily and my convincing.)

In conclusion to this rambling, I love Trevor. I love that I found a mountain man who is also business world saavy. He just does it in Wranglers. Actually, he refuses to wear wranglers. He owns more designer jeans than I do.

What an odd man.

For that reason, I have entered him to be on a Man Panel for the TODAY show. (and he doesn't know yet). Won't he just LOVE being amongst all those liberals?

Hehe.

I found a new best friend.

Pioneer Woman.

I know you have all heard of her. Gathered her recipes. Cooked her delish food.

And though her recipes are fabulous, her words are my life.

I have just spent the last 2 hours of Treyson's nap reading her story. despite the dishes piling up in my sink.

totally. worth. it.

I don't know her. But, she is me.
Her words re. her husband. EERILY similar to my journal:

"We lived life at entirely different paces. His day began before 5:00 am and his work was back-breaking, sweaty, grueling. I worked so I’d have something to do during the daylight hours, so I’d have a place to wear my black pumps, and so I could fund a nightlife full of gourmet food and colorful drinks. For Marlboro Man, nightlife meant relaxation, an earned reward for a long day of labor. For me, nightlife meant an opportunity to wear something new, to gloss up my lips, to let it all hang out.

But as alluring and appealing as our differences were, at times they also concerned me. Could I ever marry a man who’d never, in his entire life, eaten sushi? The prospect had never crossed my mind until now. Could I, a former vegetarian, conceivably spend the rest of my life with a man who ate red meat at every meal? I’d never thought about it before. And, most concerning, could I ever—in a million years—live so far out in the country, I’d have to traverse over five miles of gravel road to reach my house? The chances didn’t look good."

unlike so many modern-day couples today, where geographical mobility is always a healthy option, I knew good and well that with Marlboro Man, a rancher who lived on land that had been in his family for years, one thing was a certainty: he was where he was, and any future plans involving him would have to take place on his turf, not mine. It wasn’t as if I could take off for Chicago armed with even the faintest hope that Marlboro Man might relocate there one day. Downtown Chicago isn’t known for its abundant wheat grazing pasture.

No, his life was on the ranch—smack dab in the middle of Nowhereville—and it would stay on the ranch. His dad was getting older, which meant Marlboro Man and his brother held the future of the ranch in their capable and calloused hands. He couldn’t move; not to Chicago, not to New York. Not to Philadelphia or San Francisco or Boston or Seattle or Miami. Not even to St. Louis or Dallas or Chattanooga. Not now. Not ever."

If only I could form words into sentences as she does.

Perfect 24 Hours

We had the best Friday/Sat night. Trey's first football game. The big steer sale. The token pumpkin patch trip. Outback steak dinner (Trevor's request in honor of his hard work the past two weeks). It was a dream. I always tell Trevor, so often I don't ever feel like we are a real family due to the fact we are seldom together or "out" of our little corner of the boonies. It was a breath of fresh air.

Freakin Trey had to ruin the picture with his Asian eyes.

I am so grateful for Treyson. With Trevor gone so much lately, and Logan here, but in his "teenage" world, I have found myself so happy to have Trey. He's just always smiling (well...) and he always likes me - even when I don't deserve to be liked. He makes me understand what JOY really is.

He was NOT into the whole pumpkin experience at first. obviously.

"Stop taking so many D pictures mom"
Not impressed.

Little more my size. Little more excitement.

This is Treyson's newest stink face. He makes while panting doggisly, uncontrollably and kicking his feet.

Dad is much more fun than mom. Stink face again. Just like his dad. Hates PDA.

Selling Steers at the feedlot with Dad.

Stoned at the football game with my mom who wears glasses to appear more intelligent.

Baby cheeks are the best thing ever invented.

And those, ladies and gentlemen, are what earned me the nickname "Thumper".

Slugging Dad for keeping me up so late in order to achieve "early inspiration to become Roche family's second generation of Quarterback."

Lots of pictures because I couldn't choose just one...or five...or apparently, ten.

Trevor has had the cow camera a little occupied lately; hence, the quality of my point and shoot.

blast.

A little busy..

Poor Trevor has been working 20 hour days or something crazy like that (AND no, I'm really not exaggerating. It's new to even me!). I'm so glad I don't have to work!!!!! He's getting everything ready this week for the big steer sale tomorrow! Everyone pray we make lots and lots of money...;)

http://www.rochecattle.com/

Here is Trey riding grandpa roche's new horse, Sonic.

RETRACTED

I would like to retract my statement on yesterday's blog post.
I am not interested in having another child any time soon.

In fact, I'm considering having my tubes tied.

Today was hellish.

Mealtime has become a battlefield.

Leaving us both in tears.

Treyson REFUSES to eat.

My milk has all but dried up

and he refuses formula too.

Solids have been rather smooth till recently.

Now he's not interested.

Everyone says, "oh, he won't starve himself."

Well, he's doing it.

help.

On the brighter side,

Trevor returned in one piece from yet another trucking excursion.

I never imagined I'd marry a man who can drive an 18 wheeler.

so sexy right?

Treyson and Mom

Dad's been working ridiculous hours and out of town a lot lately.

Hence, Treyson and me are becoming best buds.

He's just at the best age. Willing and excited to do anything and everything. (And, might I add, not attached to the boob 24/7)

I'm glad I have a best friend. Even if he is 8 months old.

And he even loves my a little too bleached hair.

Have I mentioned lately that I want another baby?

I do.

But, I'm not getting crazy yet.

But would 21 months be too close together?

honestly?

what do u think?

In case you thought I was joking..

I know some people, including myself, are still in shock due to the fact:

A. I agreed to marry a rancher.

B. I agreed to move to the country.

C. I stayed married.

Well, maybe not shocked at the C, but still....

Just in case you thought I was joking about my new location. Here is proof.

I have to put Trey in his jogger to get the mail.

2 Hours of My Day

Treyson has never been too interested in eating.

He still isn't.

(Token "child in the high chair" picture.)

He is, however, interested in creating messes. Note to self. When you feed child, remove all clothing. Transition child directly into bath/shower. Change your own clothes. Stain stick them.
(Don't tell Trevor you almost saw him naked on the blog.)

Mealtimes just became a 2 hour ordeal.

sick.

Today, Treyson ate a live fly.

and he liked it.

disgusting.

the end.

the pill

Is it possible for a child to enter his terrible twos at eight months?

Is it possible for me to love him anymore than I do?



possible.

Is it possible for me to blog about anything BUT trey?
probably not.