Abigail reached a landmark today. After only eleven months, a fourth tooth finally gasped in its first breath of air. My how she grows. Already, her favorite word is "Hi" and her favorite pasttime is bouncing up and down to the Enchanted soundtrack. A few days ago she spent not less than ten minutes bouncing herself up and down in my arms, filled with the thrill of life.

An evening or so ago, we sat in the tall grass together in our back yard, watching tiny grasshoppers skip to and fro. Abigail giggled when I would catch one in my hand and held it in my palm for her to see. In only a moment, the hopper launched toward freedom, and a delighted Abigail watched and grinned. She thought they were just great. We spent some time yesterday playing basketball and chasing roly poly bugs.

Delores is the best mom. I love watching Abigail, her large eyes full of wonder at her mother. Where Delores goes, Abigail trots along behind, babbling away and content because mom is close. Delores is tireless and affectionate to the last moment of every day. I count myself a fortunate man.

We had a delightful experience during the 4th of July in Provo. The parades were enjoyable -- really. I've never liked parades. Sitting, waiting, baking in the sun, plugging ears, waiting for something, anything to happen. Not my cup of tea. Yet somehow, it was different. It was really fun. Everything is different now, and perhaps that is part of being a dad.

The family set up some inflatable pools in the yard. One pool was large, the other not so much. The rules for the were: "To play in the small pool, you must be less than *(pause while asking for the name of the oldest toddler)* four years old." This met some sighs of sorrow from the older boys, and sighs of relief from a few moms. The small pool was soon forgotten, however, for they discovered a new game: see how many pitchers of hot water need to be carried from the kitchen to make the large pool warm. It was like watching a colony of ants at work, all the nieces and nephews trotting in and out with steaming pitchers containing a few cups of hot water. It was all good fun.

Abigail, we learned, loves playing in pools of water. This was her first time. Smothered in sunscreen until a moose could pass out from the fumes, we stood her in the small pool. She sat down once, and with eyes widening at the chill, darted so quickly to her feet and to the edge of the pool that I thought we had given birth to an acrobat. After a few moments of clinging desperately to the side of the pool, curiosity overcame her and she gingerly reached over and started patting the water with her hand. Oh, she loved it!

Since then, she gets thrilled all over and begins hopping up and down in our arms at the site of a body of water, be it inflatable pool or bathtub. Her excitement about life is a thrill for me. Similar to how exciting life became when I married Delores, life is richer because of my little girl. Oh, I could be a daddy forever.

The Barker reunion rolled around again this year, and we held it at the dinosaur park at the mouth of Ogden canyon. We had quite a delightful time. Delores and I missed the turn when driving to the park, and did not realize it until we exited the other side of the canyon and had our choices of remote ski resorts for destinations. At last, doing honor to all males, I stopped and asked for directions.

My kid sister is an aspiring photographer, and she has a knack of grabbing neat photos. This picture is one of hers. If any of you are looking for a good photographer...

We also had games at the party. One game consisted of standing on wobbly wooden platforms and knocking an opponent off theirs with only a foam sword. It was rich fun. We were sad when the third sword broke, leaving nothing left for the game. It was a somewhat embarassing truth that three different Rimingtons were responsible for each of the three different broken swords. We're a rowdy bunch.

As the extended Dorton clan contentedly watched Jacob and Delores open birthday presents on Sunday, Isabel enters the room from the kitchen saying:

"Everyone, I have an announcement....

"Samuel is eating Delores' cake."

The room was a sudden picture of motion.

I'll admit it. We didn't always vacuum every day (or week, for that matter); but we do much better now that Abigail's unrelenting curiosity married her budding mobility.

So how did she find a rusty old staple to eat? It hasn't been more than a day, or maybe two, since the vacuum scrubbed that very patch of floor.

Thank heavens she hasn't figured out how to use her tongue to swallow solids.

She did it! She really did it!

And I wanna brag about her. 

Monday was an exciting day for us. Delores defended her thesis at last, and stood triumphant after a grueling hour-and-a-half. Some of the professors on the panel were quite flattering in their praise of Delores' effots.

Abigail came along, and spent most of the time being chased away from all the tasty textbooks in Dr. Gast's office by Delores' good friend Anne.  Afterwards, we enjoyed some long-awaited Aggie Ice Cream.

It was kind of funny, after several waves of denial washed over us, to say, "It's done....Only three rounds of revisions left before it is finished." Three rounds of revisions, but at least no more defence.

At any rate, we're understandably happy. Next time you see Delores, give her a hug from all of us. 

Folks say that teaching a few simple signs to a child can help them learn to communicate, and thus reduce the frustrations of toddlerhood. So it is that we have a few signs that we use when we talk to her. "Mom", "Dad", "Milk", "Diaper", "Food", "Up", "Was' up, Dog?"... Only the essentials.

Well, of all the goodness, she picked up on one!

Milk, she said to Delores yesterday morning. She was hungry. Milk, she said to Delores in the afternoon when, again, she was hungry.

Hearing about it from Delores made my day!

We visited the Dorton clan for Easter. There were easter eggs. There were crafts. There was a wonderful Sabbath service.

And as we were leaving, the nieces invited me to join in their game with the nephews. Princesses and Bad Guys, they called it. The girls were all princesses. The boys were all bad guys, "except," they explained to me, "for you. You're a good guy..."

The game resembled steal-the-flag; only there wasn't any flag. The princesses would get caught by the bad guys and put in jail, which the boys studiously goal-tended. The only way to get out was to be saved by another princess or, even, the good guy.

I saved Isabel from the crowd, lifted her onto my shoulders, and ran from all pursuing bad guys who wanted to capture the princess, and pursuing princesses who wanted their turn. It only takes a half dozen princesses for a good guy to realize how woefully out of shape he is... What made it worse was saving the oldest for last. Who thought of that maneuver?

When all was said and done, I joined my two most precious princesses, and started the journey home, unable to hide the smile on my face. I love my two families. 

Abigail is mobile. Dangerously so. This message was driven home to us when she found Delores' scriptures. The tale is a good one to tell. Delores had turned to the computer for a moment to e-mail her thesis to herself. This is her method for backing up her work. In the time it took to submit the email, Abigail traversed enough of the room to get to the scriptures and spell their doom.

If mom likes them so much, then I think I will, too. She began to playfully tear out pages and fist them into her mouth. I suppose you might say she was "feasting on the word" (2 Ne. 31:20). Really, it is a heartache to see such a well-loved set of scriptures in such a state, but I cannot seem to suppress a smile.

It has been a remarkable perspective shift for us. We placed furniture in front of the bike, vacuumed, rearranged end tables, vacuumed again. She has taken interest in the power button on our little server. It glows, so why wouldn't she? She is so very curious, and we are very unchild-proof. I have a feeling that there is a great adventure only barely around the corner.

Abigail is over five months old now (Hurray!). She has discovered that she can roll to the nearest plant and wreak havoc, that she can vary the pitch of her voice, and that things like telephones and keyboards have buttons for pushing. It's really quite a delight.

We are also pressing ever deeper into the question, When do we feed her solids? I had no idea this was a controversial battle-ground well worth avoiding, but we're here anyway. We sat at the table, Abigail taking an interest in the food on our plates. I suggested we let her taste some. Delores was doubtful.

We tried giving Abigail a taste of a few foods that we were eating. The first was the avacado. I knew the instant she got the flavor in her mouth that I should have had the camera ready. Her face was wrenched up in nauseous shock with an expression that seemed to scream "That's not MILK!" It was only moments before I caught it all in a handy cloth.

Then, thought I, something milder should do the trick. We had warm mashed potatoes handy, and a put a little on the spoon and into her mouth. That's when the gagging started. "I said, that's not MILK!!!" The gagging throes were so intense I traded the cloth for a bowl in case she succeeded in vomiting her whole last meal.

Delores looked at me with an I told you so look which, in fact, she had. I suppose we shall be content with breastfeeding for a while longer.

Yesterday, we spent the evening together as a family. The game of the evening was a travelling story. The idea was that we would take turns adding a sentence or two to the story without looking back to remember what we had written. Both stories turned out quite funny. This one was my favorite:

Green: Keith. Red: Delores.

There was once a princess named Abigail.

She loved to sing, laugh, and flirt with the cute princes.

There was one prince that was extra nice, named Martin.

Martin lived in a big castle with lots of fast and pretty hourses.

An hourse is a horse that lives for only one hour, from foal to adult.

They came from a land that few had ever visited, and those who had spoke about it in whispers.

Abigail once said to Martin, "Would you take me to the Whispered Lands on a mighty hourse?"

Martin refused, for there were many dangers and some of the bravest knights had been killed or lost on adventures to this land.

Not to mention, it took at least two hours to get there.

So Abigail and Martin dated in their land and are still dating to this day; their parents really hope they'll get married soon! 

It is hard to express how much I love being my child's father. Today, we were listening to the speakers at church. Abigail was nestled in my lap, looking attentively forward, with her arm wrapped snugly around my tie. I felt like she wanted me around. I felt wanted and needed.

She is such a delightful child. When we are playing, she laughs musically. May I never forget how freely she smiles when she presses her hands on Delores's lips, or when she finds something amusing about the way something is, or when she has yet another small victory of growing up.

This has been a memorable winter, one that revitalized the wonder of Christmas, the pleasure of snow, and the thrill of life. That is what my little girl is to me. Pure, thrill of life.

There is little doubt but that my sweet little girl is my lovely wife's daughter. They look so sweet together. I saw the photograph of Delores and thought, for a moment, that I was looking at Abigail.

Shhh! Don't tell anyone I'm hiding out here with my camoflage sweatpants or they might find me...

A while back, I mentioned Kevin's eagle project. Today was the grand ceremony. Keven and two other young men were welcomed to the Eagle's Nest in honor this evening.

The program was very neat. A gentleman brought a live bald eagle, named Liberty, and spoke with us about her and about eagle-ish things worthy of looking up to. He explained to us that Liberty was in captivity because of an injury on a power line years ago. Although in captivity, Liberty's pride was in no respect diminished. She commanded our attention by flapping her enormous wings, sending a powerful wave of air across the entire gym.

Eagles mate for life. When they migrate north to Canada, they always find their way to the exact same nest, and are fiercely loyal to their tiny family. Some aviators have sighted eagles as high as 20,000 feet, and they will at times break into a dive at speeds of over 100mph. They are far-sighted birds, and can recognize a rabbit from two miles away. I felt like this symbolized our desire to look where we are going and see with clarity the things that guide our decisions in life.

During the flag ceremony, I held Abigail in my left arm while my right hand was over my heart. I tried to snag Abigail's right hand with my fingers and press it to her heart. Her left hand was firmly ensconced in her mouth. After the ceremony was finished and we removed our hands, Abigail's right hand quickly went to her side. But her left? Oh no. That was to remain in her cheery, drooling mouth for some time yet.

The Veterans of Foreign Wars presented flags and certificates of honor to the boys. I was touched when these seven men who had served our country, and continue to give service to the community, gave what they felt was their highest honor to the boys. The Vice Commander shouted Present Arms. Each of the seven honorable old men saluted the boys. Order Arms. There was an odd sense of quietness in the air and a peaceful expression on the faces of the boys.

My father, who had visited Scotland with my mother earlier in the year, brought back patches commemorating the 100^th anniversary of the Boy Scouts in Scotland. The patches contained stylized reproductions of scetches made by Baden Powell of the very first Boy Scouts doing their activities. He gave one to Kevin and to each of the rest of us.

That is our last eagle, at least until my nephews come of age. Counting my father there are seven of us now, and a mother who has been a surrogate eagle five times. I've never regretted my eagle, and I am proud of Keven for earning his.

Come with me and share in my joy. We experienced a neat blessing over the weekend.

I carry a number of things in my pocket: nail clippers, pens, keys, etc. Sometimes It seems my pockets are simply a walking purse. We were to travel south to see family, so I pulled my keys from my pocket only to spill the entire contents of my pocket on the wet blacktop. I chuckled at my clumsiness and south we went.

Abigail is teething, and with teething comes an incredible amount of drool and, yes, baby OraGel. A neighbor gave us a sample that we have been very grateful for. It has helped our sweet child through several nights. After applying some OraGel, Delores handed the tube to me and it promptly went into my pocket with everything else.

I returned home without Delores and Abigail on account of the heavy snow storm that hit the area. When I returned home that night, I had a conversation with Delores on the phone. Abigail was having another troublesome night. Delores looked for the OraGel. There it was, sitting alone on the driver's seat of the car. She picked it up and Abigail slept soundly.

She told me this and I checked my pockets. Everything else was there. Keys, nail clippers; all of it. I guess it was a really neat blessing that Of all the things to have fall from my pocket, it was the one thing that would be wanted most when I was so far away.

There's an expression that goes: "The fact that light travels faster than sound explains why some folks look bright before they speak." I suppose that's partly because it is so difficult to listen while speaking.

Abigail was somewhat irritable over the course of the last week. Teething was suspect, so we checked her bottom gums for teeth (because "they", the anonymous baby gurus, say bottom teeth come first. No teeth, nor any signs of teeth. Naturally, we start wondering about ear infections. Abigail did have a cold the previous week.

At length, we get in to the doctor. After Abigail made it through a swarm of adoring nurses, one nurse feels her mouth for a second. She has a tooth! It's on the top row. Curse "they" and us for listening...  That wasn't all. There was, in fact, an incipient infection in her ear.

Now, with a much happier baby, I spend some time musing. Teeth arriving symbolizes another stride toward a speaking Abigail. On the other hand, the ear infection seems to suggest to the hopelessly imaginative soul that with speaking comes the challenge to listen.

It's an exciting step, teeth. At least one reason is my lighthearted sense of competition with the neighbor boy. Young Mr. Kimball is two weeks older than Abigail and sports two lower teeth. The arrival of a top tooth filled me with glib satisfaction. "They" say that top teeth come later. That means, for some reason I couldn't possibly justify or explain, that Abigail is gaining an edge! I suppose that is just a mask for my excitement for my sweet little girl.

The Dorton clan celebrated Thanksgiving with more-than-usual cheer yesterday. We received news that Daniel and Wendy's baby has arrived and they are off even as we speak to pick him up. We are very excited to welcome William Jackson Dorton to the family. We'll certainly need to arrange for William and Abigail to be best friends!

It has been a long-standing habit of mine to sing made-up songs at random throughout the day. My lyrics gradually improved from "I love Delores...I love Delores...I love Delores" to more sophisticated compositions such as "I really, really, really, really, really love Delores".

I was holding Abigail, singing about how happy we were to be a family when she started singing along! She was cooing and puckering her lips as she sang with adorable discord. I felt so happy I could burst. She is a delightful young woman, ready to play stick-out-your-tongue games at a moment's notice. What could a new dad want more?

I feel very lucky to be a dad. At anyrate, I'm off to go sing in our little family choir. 

We spent the weekend with the Dorton clan to view the General Conference of our church. After dinner on Sunday, I was playing with the nieces and nephews. The game: Let's pretend Keith is a monster and sneak past him. I lumbered around like an overgrown ape, each niece and nephew skirting by just out of reach.

In the best monster voice I could muster I cried out, "I eat little Dortons!" 

Then Erick, like a prince among his subjects, strides past me declaring, "I'm not a little Dorton. I'm a Romero. You can't eat me!"

He showed me.

We were visiting my parent's home today while they shared marvelous photographs of their trip to Scotland. One short video was of a group of dancers. Upon seeing the video, Justin remarked:

"That's just like Lord of the Rings... Lord of the Flies... no... Lord of the Dance!"

She is here!

She's my little girl. It feels so peculiar to have her here; peculiar, exhiliarating, liberating, and downright fun!

For those interested in vital statistics, she entered the world Wednesday the 22th, weighing 8lbs. 9.3oz. and measuring 20 inches long. Her eyes tilt up at the ends like Delores. I'm proud to say my looks were mercifully recessive. She makes faces, yawns large enough to swallow a rhinocerous, and loves to cuddle.

And tomorrow is her first week anniversary of living in the sunlight.

We should celebrate

My brother, Kevin just finished his eagle project; a neat one at that! Not far from my parents' home is a neighborhood park. Years ago, perhaps as the result of another eagle project, a classy wooden sign was posted to identify the park and its rules. That sign since became worn, faded, and dilapdated. The sign was weather-beaten and the posts were torn and scuffed by lawnmowers and weed-whackers. The rules had faded beyond recognition.

That is where Kevin's project comes in. He orchestrated the replacement of the sign, which looks wonderful again! He designed the new sign and coordinated its construction and installation. Check out before-and-after photos of the project here.

She's almost here! She's almost here!

Having recovered somewhat from the fantastic Harry Potter haze, I realize how much is left undone to prepare for our baby. What is left to pack, to practice, to buy, to fix, and to clean? Oy!

It's kindof fun to look at the half-assembled nursery. Along one wall is the dresser, our baby's clothes sorted in each drawer by age. Against the window is the crib my father built. All seven of us slept in that crib and, as a matter of fact, so have Abigail's eight cousins. It is a family treasure to enjoy again for a short time. Against the wall by the door is our crib. It was a gift from our neighbor, but came missing parts. Saturday evening, I finished making the last of the missing brackets, and it now stands their in our baby's new room, polished and waiting.

I feel poised, and ready, and yet entirely unprepared. I never thought how much my parents loved me before I knew what love and hugs and sunshine really meant, yet I suspect now perhaps some of the deep feelings I know my mother and father had felt years ago. It brings a little perspective, I guess.

She's almost here...

Yesterday marked the conclusion of a neat family reunion on my mother's side of the family. This year, the reunion was held at a lovely campground currently owned by our church. There were cabins, each holding a handful of people in one room, and many more in the adjacent room.

One cabin was set aside for all the teenaged cousins. They're a rather large, tight-knit group, with a few boys and an quite a few more girls. They bedded the boys in the inner room, and the girls stayed in the outer room with my grandmother and my mother's oldest sister, Linda.

On a whiteboard on the wall, someone claimed the territory by marking the words:
The Teen - & - Aged Cabin.

Last week, I hiked into the hills with a hand full of Delores's family. We travelled my favorite local trail; one surprisingly close to metropolitan Salt Lake valley. Not far from Highway 89 near the hills of Layton starts a seemingly nondescript trail. Dusty switchbacks bordered by scrub oak and citizen mansions cunningly conceal the jewel of nature's beauty hidden around the hill and into the canyon.

Quiet suddenly, the dusty trail gives way to lush foliage and running water. As we approached the trees, I chuckled to overhear two nieces quarreling over who got to stand nearest to Don. It made me smile. Clearly, Don loves his children and is loved in return. Will Abigail want to be near to me wherever we go? I think that would be neat.

I chuckled even more at one point because Don suggested that one of them could walk by me, and thus save the dispute. Both girls looked at me with baleful eyes. Clearly, I was no substitute for their father.

From time to time, the trail leads to small waterfalls sprinkling a refreshing spray across the trail, or great fallen logs housing busy colonies of very large ants. The children spotted wildlife, climbed up steep paths, and scooted down steeper drops. At length, we arrived at a wonderful waterfall that filled a small pool at the end of the trail. It was two hours hiking, and we all flopped gratefully on the rocky shore and gobbled up granola, sandwiches, and treats.

While sitting on the shore by the falls, I called Delores from the cellular phone. It worked! The connection was very strong. Two hours walk away from the nearest home and we had sufficient coverage to talk. This surprised me, particularly when I consider the dead zones along my daily commute.

We walked down the trail much more quickly than we climbed up. At the end, some of the children seemed tired enough to trip on level ground, yet we all departed happy and cheerful. This was a truly wonderful experience. If you'd like to see some pictures of the trail, visit the gallery here.

Today, most of both families came to spend some time in fun and games at our new apartment. To my surprise, everyone seemed to fit in the space we had available. That was stunning!

After enjoying some light summer food, many of us retired to the lawn for games of checkers, darts, and water balloon volleyball. It seemed to me that everyone had a great time.

It was really neat to me that so many people were willing to come. Family came from Provo, West Jordan, Salt Lake, and Brigham City. This was the first time we had combined so many from both families since our wedding almost two years ago. This is something we very definitely want to do again.

You can find some photographs of the fun day here. Thanks to all who came!

Sometimes it takes several grueling hours with a pickaxe and a jack hammer to make a fella feel like a man. Other times, there are more sensitive things. I enjoy going with Delores each week to our Bradley Method® birthing class. We sit in a room for a few hours with other couples who are as excited about there baby as we are about ours, and we learn how to prepare for and embrace labor.

Strange enough, this helps me feel like a man. We alternate between different activities in the class, from traditional school-like learning to practicing relaxation techniques and massage. I get to spend the entire time practicing and dreaming about providing for Delores' every need during labor and birth. Each moment is about taking care of her as only a husband with all his love can. I get to be her labor coach; the fella who is there every moment and is sorely missed even for the briefest of trips to the restroom. Yup. I'm going to do all that and somehow not faint. And I can't wait (although I need to wait until we at least have a place for our baby to sleep).

There's no table saw, forklift, or anything else manly about it except my love for Delores and my deep hope that I can be a decent father to my baby. And yet, to me, I feel that I am facing a rite of passage; one that, if I succeed, I will be a man. Two calendar flips. That's all the time left. And with the next calendar flip only two-some-odd weeks ahead, I can hardly contain myself.

This came from my dad today:

I was just bragging about the new Grandkid picture I have and it dawned on me that your daughter will be the seventh granddaughter with nine grand children total. Does that make her “Seven of Nine”?

I attended the blessing of my youngest niece, Natalie, today. When I stood in the circle to join in the blessing, I felt like I could burst from excitement. We are nine weeks away from Abigail's due date. Supposing I blink my eyes for only a moment, will I be standing in a circle to bless my own child? Many emotions flooded me then, and I am grateful that God is giving us one of his dear children. Seeing Natalie was like a small taste of fathers' joy.

Details of blessings are often too sacred to be written like this for people to view. Suffice it to say that there was peace, joy, and gratitude among all who attended. Natalie smiled with the smiles only infants can have, and even so, only at rare and perfect times. I feel overjoyed that I could participate in one of those times.

I have so many things to look forward to.

I lie awake in bed, tranquil and still, and listen to your gentle breathing. Abigail is due in two calendar-flips, and seems like she might arrive both running and dancing. You are supernally beautiful.

My love, I love you more deeply and more sweetly than the day we married. You have been strength to me, and tenderness, and joy. Thank you, love.

One of the neat things about being married to Delores is that I have a lot to brag about in her. She won some prestigious awards from the university, and was recognized among other wonderful people for her service as a teacher and researcher.

Mother and Pa and Mom and Dad all came to see her, and It was fun to be together as a family. It was fun to have them over to visit, eat, laugh, and smile together. I am glad families are eternal.

Delores with her folks.

Delores and me and my folks.

My wife, while studying diligently for her Sociology class on Population Health, helped me find food today like so:

Keith: Oh look? some left over chinese food in the fridge! I'll have some of that.

Delores: If you want, there's some socioeconomic sauce on the top shelf.