It is hot here: screaming, smoking, feels-like-40-degrees-with-the-humidity hot. No, really, it feels like 40 FREAKING degrees out there.
Luckily, we have a wading pool to soak our feet in and a lovely beach nearby.
This beach, Petrie Island, is about a five-minute drive from our house. In the winter, neighbours told me how nice it was to live so close to the beach, and I was all, "Huh? The beach?? There's a beach? Where's the beach? Why is there a beach?" Now that I have felt the true wrath of an Ottawan summer -- I hope. It doesn't get worse does it? -- I see the value of the beach. I foresee many days laying in the soft sand and swimming in the water -- when it is clean, that is. This is the Ottawa River, so sometimes the E.coli count is too high, and things get shut down. Dylan is horrified by the thought of swimming in poo water, but I am more philosophical about it and think I may chance a bit of poo to cool off.
The heat seems especially hard on Finn. He can get sweaty and hot at the best of times. Forty degrees makes him a bit cranky. Poor kid. He needs an igloo and a dog sled and mountains of snow to feel comfortable, I think.

A bit of sand and cool water happens to cheer him up, though.

Little Rosemary deals with the heat in the best fashion I can think of aside from ice-cream treats: napping in the stroller.

About three blocks from our house, there is a bike and walking pathway along the Ottawa River that extends from where we live, Orleans, all the way into downtown Ottawa.

Dylan and Finn haven't made it downtown yet, but it does look beautiful. Plus, there are benches just made for resting and snacking on. Is it just me or does it look like there's beer in that water bottle?
Since babies and bikes generally don't mix, I've only walked along the river, but while Finn and Dylan are out canoodling by the river, my consolation is the wee little girl I get to hang out with instead.
She just gets sweeter and more cute every week.
While I do think she looks a lot like Dylan, those are clearly my arms stretching out there. Or maybe they're Grandpa Stan's arms. Either way, they are long and lovely, of course.

Anyway, this is what Finn likes. We can keep our fun farms and children's events. Have I mentioned our trip to West Fest? There were numerous activities for young people: bouncy castles, balloons, clowns -- Dr. Kaboom! -- and Finn summarily rejected them all. Moderately disgusted by these kid-friendly events, he meets the balloons and the other children with a look of mild distaste.

Just give him the peace and serenity of the river, and he is a happy kid. Don't forget the rocks! Climbing rocks is way more fun than any old stupid bouncy castle filled with screaming children, Mama.

Father's Day at the funny farm. Happy Father's Day, Dylan. Thank you for all the support, love, and fun -- yup, there's been a bit of fun amongst the chaos -- this past year. Finn and Rosemary are lucky to have you as their father.

Posing with the sheep. They were my favorite. The best part was when lunch was served. Man, who knew sheep would get so worked up over some dry, crusty-looking hay.

Ah, a Rose between two thorns. (I couldn't stop myself from typing that one.)
She does look like Dylan! Wow, I do see it now, and could Finn love her any more?
They are so cute, my head might just explode.
Don't look at my post-baby muffin top; instead, ooh and ahhh over my new haircut.

Finn, age 10 weeks.

Rose, age 10 weeks.

When we decided on two years apart for our children, we knew they would be close. We are just getting an inkling now of how close they will be. Finn wants her around. He is no longer content with her in her crib while we play in his room. He wants her in his bed. He wants to touch her. He offers her bits of whatever he is eating, and on one particularly cute occasion, he brought her a dandelion handpicked from the yard.
He has a strange idea of what entertains her. Half the time it works on her, all the time on me.
I really like these kids of mine.

Is it because Rosemary is my last baby, because she's a girl, or because she's a particularly sweet girl? All I know is that I am enjoying her, to say the least. She is wonderful to me, and I cannot get enough of her.
Look at her! She's not just cute. She's not just beautiful. She's positively charming.
She's charming the pants off that toy. That floating turtle is powerless to resist her smiles.
Cliched as it might be, you expect to love your children, but falling in love with them is a surprise, even the second time round.

Two-year-olds are a strange breed. Finn has decided he doesn't like having his picture taken. Now whenever the camera appears, he makes a face.

I think it's related to the flash hurting his eyes, or maybe he no longer wants to be an Internet star. In any case, it's one part annoying.And one part cute.
At moments like these, I have flashes of him as a teenager. Chilling. Positively chilling.