Very Important (Not Really)

A few things you should know about today:

1. I had what was quite possibly the most perfect cupcake on the face of the planet.

It was made fresh this morning by my new friend and delivered to my door just hours after its creation. It was s'mores flavored: a thin graham cracker crust at the bottom of the cupcake wrapper, topped with a layer of bittersweet chocolate, topped with 100% perfect chocolate cake, topped with more chocolate chunks and graham crumbs, topped with homemade marshmallow cream and toasted with a kitchen torch.

I could have eaten myself sick with them. If it hadn't been for the fact that I had to go workout this afternoon, I probably would have.

2. I love my mom.

A lot.

If you haven't met her, you are missing out.

Here she is holding Joey.

Pretty, pretty.

Andy and I went to work out today (45 dead lifts, 60 box jumps and 75 pull-ups, thank you very much). Jack was in a bit of a funk (he is not getting even close to enough sleep and neither am I - a terrible combination) so I dropped Andy off to let him workout and I went to my mom's house. When I got there she cheerfully offered to keep the boys and sent me back to the gym.

It was just what I needed!

Not only is she lovely, and helpful and generous, she is also the ultimate word in just about anything.

Whenever Andy and I have having an "I bet" conversation the winner is always decided by what my mom says. For example, if we have differing opinions of what a word means, we always ask my mom. Or, if we are disagreeing over a bit of trivia, it is always the same, "I'll ask my mom."

The only caveat to this method of deciding who is correct is when it comes to something scientific, such as "What is the term for that whooshing sound you hear when a car drives by?" Then we ask my dad.

It is the Doppler Effect.

There is a lot more to say about my mom, but I have a few more things you should know about today, so I will save her other glorious traits for a later post.

3. I cut off all my hair.

All of it.

There isn't a piece on my head that is more than two inches long.

And it is fabulous.

It makes me feel brave.

This is actually the second time in four days I have been to the salon. For weeks I have been eying a very short, punky style. When I went in to get it cut my hairstylist (who I like very much) talked me out of it. I went with what she said and came home with a really toned-down short-ish style.

Andy gave me a firm (by firm I mean loving and insightful) talking to that went something like this:

"Why didn't you get the cut you wanted?"

"Because she said she didn't want to do it."

"But it was what you wanted, you have been thinking about it for forever. That's why girls never get what they want - they are too afraid to say what they want!"

"I guess I just assumed she knew better."

"She doesn't."

He has a pretty good point, and made think about why I do a lot of things that I don't want to do... I always think someone else knows better. I wonder why? So, spurred on by my wise man, I called and asked if I could have it fixed, and they did, at no charge. I am much happier, and have just the style I wanted!

4. I have a ton of emails to answer and useful computer things that I should be doing, but I don't want to .

I only get to the computer after the boys are in bed and by that time all I want to do is read a few blogs and tell you important things. There is just never enough time, or energy, or brainspace. I am trying to figure out how to be okay with that.

5. Today probably ranks on my top ten list of bad parenting days.

I wavered somewhere between impatient and snappy, and total pushover. Not a bit like the mom I wish to be. Good thing there is always tomorrow.

6. My minutes of computer time are done. I feel guilty for everything that I didn't get to, satisfied with actually posting something, wistful for more time at later point in my life, and considering taking a bath, something I haven't done for several years (minus sitting in a few inches of water with my wee babes).

7. I really want another cupcake.

Just To Say I Did It

I had two goals tonight.

One, to dye my hair.

Two, to post something, anything, on this ol' blog.

Well, 9:00 rolled around, and Joey is finally down until sometime in the single-digit morning, and I'm pooped.

That means hair dying is most assuredly out for the evening.

Dying your hair while exhausted (especially when you use the reddest, stainy-est shade that I fancy) is a very silly thing to do. Sort of like singing karaoke when you've had a few too many drinks

Karaoke, by the way,

is on the very top

of my

"Things I'm Terrified Of"

list.

I'm seriously, seriously

afraid of singing in front of people.

It sounds like torture.

Spelling outloud is second on that list.

Or like buying pants a size too small thinking that they will fit in a few weeks... very silly.

For a brief moment I considered just crawling into bed after my shower and calling it a night. But then I decided that if I went to sleep without accomplishing either of my very small goals, I would feel pretty pathetic.

So...

Here I am.

Rambling on.

...

I discovered a few things this afternoon.

1. I'm clumsy.

2. I'm tough.

3. It is probably time for a new pair of gym pants.

This afternoon I was running around Downtown Everett, doing my little work-out thing, and my foot caught my pant leg. Without any warning I was falling quickly toward the pavement. I hit both my knees, my palms and then rolled to my back.

That's when I realized I'm clumsy... and also when I discovered that it might be time to move to a smaller pair of pants (Note that I did not pre-buy smaller pants, that, as we have already discussed, would have been very silly).

I realized I was tough when I jumped right up, smiled to my running partner (yes, I was running with someone who witnessed the whole thing) and continued my workout (which I will tell you included 45 jumps up onto a 20 inch box. I feel like such a stud!).

I now have knees like a seven-year old. I had planned to wear a skirt this weekend while hosting not one, but two parties - one baby shower and one 50th birthday - on the same day, but I may have to reconsider. I'm pretty sure scabby knees are not on the summer's hottest trends list.

...

I have several other stories that have been in my head to tell you this past week, but it is just so tricky to get to the computer with energy and creativity to communicate the things I want to.

I hope you understand. And I hope that changes in the next few months.

Until then, I will leave you with the oddest conversation of the week:

Aunt Gwyneth: Your face looks so thin!

Me, in my head: Oh, I like where this is going!

Aunt Gwyneth: So thin! Have you been throwing up a lot?

Me, in my head: What?

Me, outloud: Throwing up?

Gwyneth: Yes.

Me: Um, no. But I have been working out.

Me, in my head: I guess I better start wearing make-up again.

Please, tell me, when you see that someone's face has thinned out, is your first thought, "Have they been throwing up?"

I would really like to know.

I have a lot to say about Fred Meyer

Do you ever have moments when you realize that at your core you are petty and trite and not even close to the nice, lovely person you think of yourself as?

I am that petty person these days.

I know I'm really a miser at heart because when I looked at my attitude and realized it was terrible I actually though, "I know I am seeing this ugly thing in myself now, but God can change that in me... but I don't know that I really want to ask him to. I kind of want to be a brat and feel justified in my mean ways."

I am not a nice person.

In a few more days I will come to a place where I will lay myself before the Lord, but because I'm always perfectly honest here on this ol' blog, I will tell you that I'm just stewing in my sin at this point.

But let's not talk about that too much.

Let's talk about Fred Meyer.

I have always been a Target girl. I love me some Target.

But I might have a new bff.

The Snohomish Fred Meyer.

Maybe because it is so close. But it might just be because something awesome happens each time I go.

Last week I went to FM wearing a grey cotton skirt and a pair of leggings. Under my leggings I was wearing some of the brightest pink panties you have ever encountered.

Somewhere near the organic carrots my leggings suddenly started to creep from my waist to my hips and showed no sign of stopping.

I'm not sure how it all happened, whether I was just walking with wiggly hips, or the very sheer nature of my undergarments caused some sort of legging malfunction, but as the leggings were doing the shimmy, my underwear decided they wanted in on the trek.

I was trying to find an unoccupied aisle to adjust myself, but the store was very busy. I tried a few inconspicuous hitches but all that did was pull up the leggings and miss the panties. Pretty soon the leggings were barely holding on to my rear and my pretty pinks were not anywhere near where I had put them in the morning.

GAH!

By the time I left the store there was nothing between my bottom and my skirt and I was gritting my teeth against the moment when both the leggings and my underwear made the final plunge to my ankles.

That moment never came, but the first thing I did when I got to my van was to put everything in it's right place. If someone had walked by at just the right moment I very well could have been arrested for indecent exposure.

...

Today I took Jack and Joey with me to grab a few items and get Jack out of the house.

When I shop with both boys Jack always sits in the front seat and I put Joey's carrier in the main section of the cart. It doesn't leave any room for groceries, but I don't have to do it very often, so I can manage once in a while.

When our trip was finished, I wheeled the cart out to the van. I rested the front of the cart against the van to keep it in place and transfered Jack first (I always do him first so that he is as contained as possible). Then I grabbed our groceries and put them in.

When I turned around for the third time, to get Joey, the cart was gone.

Can you even imagine what went through my mind?

First I was totally confused, then I was a little scared, and then I was laughing hysterically as I saw the cart rolling at a leisurely pace down the parking lot with a little baby in it.

Somehow the cart got free of my positioning and was following the gentle slope of the lot.

I made some sort of exclamation and quickly chased after the cart (good thing I wasn't wearing leggings!). After I had retrieved it and returned it to the cart rack I heard someone chuckle. I looked up and a young couple had witnessed the whole thing and enjoyed the show a good deal.

I know that could have gone horribly wrong had a car been part of the equation, but as it was, I had a good laugh, which felt very nice.

...

Not all of my enjoyment of FM comes from my own propensity for being totally ridiculous. The employees also brighten my day.

On the same day that I almost showed the world of Fred Meyer my fancy pants

Side note:

In England,

"pants" means panties.

I didn't learn this until

after I told someone at the train stop

"I like your pants,"

and they looked at me like I

was really, really weird.

I was purchasing some pastrami at the deli.

I was going to make reuben sandwiches.

I really love reubens.

The woman behind the counter was a little older, and seemed like a totally run-of-the-mill deli lady. That is, until she handed me my pastrami.

She said, "Have you ever had our pastrami?" When I answered in the negative she began to show off the sliced meat, "you can see how beautiful it is..." and promised me that it would be the best that I had ever tasted.

I smiled, pleased by her enthusiasm, but what made her my favorite deli lady ever is that when I took my meat and offered the usual, "Thanks, have a nice day," she returned with a very sincere, "I hope you enjoy it immensely."

I love that!

When was the last time you enjoyed something immensely?

That pastrami may not have been the very best I have ever had, but I did enjoy it immensely.

Coming Clean

I have a confession.

I don't always recycle.

Do you hate me?

Sometimes when I'm cooking and using lots of cans, like a soup that uses several cans of beans, I toss them in the sink with the good intention of rinsing them out and popping them in the recycling when I'm done with all my meal making. The problem is, when the sink is also full of dishes and the counters are cluttered, rinsing the cans seems like an avoidable portion of the work. Just toss them in the garbage under the sink and move on.

Surely it cuts a good 1.75 minutes out of my cleaning time!

And other days, Jack finds some jar or jug that I've put in the bin particularly interesting and pulls it out to play with it (which is why I must throughly rinse all containers that will eventually be recycled). After I have tripped over his favored juice bottle or tuna tin about three hundred and sixty two times, I am so tired of seeing it that I hide it from Jack... in the garbage can.

Does that make me a bad person.

Or more specifically, does that mean I have to hide myself in shame from all the faithful recyclers that inhabit the great Northwest?

I hope not.

I have another confession that might get me kicked out of my home state.

I don't really like soy milk.

What is the deal with soy anyway, is it good for you or not? I hear conflicting messages and I am confused.

Same with dairy.

And just about every other food group.

Someone somewhere always has a reason that some food is no good for the human race.

Sheesh.

Until I get straight answers I'll just keep eating what I love.

And I'll keep not liking soy milk.

I can handle it on my cereal. But it certainly doesn't cut it in my coffee and please, please don't ask me to drink it straight.

But milk seems to make both of my babies gassy, as well as my darling man...

...who is in Mexico

building a house

and who I was bravely living without

until he called me

and I was reminded of how very much I adore him

and now I keep wishing

he would come home and tuck me in,

but alas

he will not be back in The States

for another two days.

Instead of filling my fridge with multiple milk products I just go with the gang and have soy when I want cereal. But frankly, it isn't really cutting it for me. I am trying to decide if it is worth it to have Joey squirm and fuss after I drink it and therefore he drinks it... and when I think about that, I realize that I'll just have to make do for a while.

Oh the sacrifices we mothers make!

We've tried Almond, Rice and "Grain Drink" in addition to the soy. Not a single one of them are delicious, but because soy is questionable I thought I should at least give them a go. Soy by far is the least objectionable... but seriously... is soy a yey or nay these days?

Anyone?

I'm back, but I'm rambling

Well, we are now down to the last month of pregnancy.

Wow.

The beautiful thing is that as the due date gets closer, rather than become more nervous and more concerned with the details of bringing home baby number two, I find myself eager to meet Joey and confident in my family's ability to grow to four with grace and joy.

Not only is my confidence in our family growing, but in the last weeks I have been so amazed by the show of support and affection from my dear, dear friends. I have been well celebrated, affirmed, encouraged and gifted with more than I ever, ever imagined.

I'm out of the habit of blogging, though I have started a post in my head about every other day. Unfortunately, none of those brain-posts translated to reality. The stories are lost and my witticisms never had a chance to be enjoyed.

Poor witticisms.

Even now, I can tell that I can't quite put together a whole story the way I'd like to, but that could be because Andy insists on watching the Bachelor, which is the show that I hate the very most in the world.

It is hard to compose a clever and well-ordered presentation of real life with syrupy and cliche sentiments being exchanged between one man and four women in the background.

I'm so sorry if you really happen to enjoy the Bachelor, but seriously, I CAN NOT STAND IT! Gag me gag me gag me. Gross. Ughhh... It is torture to even have to hear snippets of the conversations from such a show. And the thought of that guy kissing all those girls and professing love to four women at once makes my skin crawl.

So, while I may not be able to concentrate on building an engaging story line in text, I am happy to have a way to turn my back on such a horrible show. Even if the ramblings from the tv box still haunt me...

Hmm... it may not be enough to simply turn my back on the show. I may have to resort to more significant sources of distraction. Good thing I have a box of hair dye in the bathroom and a stack of thank you cards to entertain myself with.

If those two things fail, I will continue my online perusal of double strollers. An undertaking that has absorbed WAY too many hours of my life. I'm lost in the world of tandems, side-by-sides, sit & stands... can anyone out there answer all of my stroller questions?

Please?

I'm going crazy!

But that could just be the creepy-crawlies that Bachelor-man is giving me.

GGGGROOOOSSSSSS!

He Said, She Said... Attempt One

Have I mentioned before that I adore my husband?

He is so good for me.

We just celebrated our third anniversary and in those three years I have learned how to talk about my feelings without sobbing. I have learned to care less about what people think of me. And I have learned how to sneak veggies into almost everything.

There are still a million things I can learn from him, but the beauty of marriage is that I have my entire life to glean from his wisdom. Additionally, the beautiful thing about Andy specifically is that he is so patient with me while I learn and he forgives so quickly when I haven't learned.

Yes, I truly love the man I married.

But marriage isn't all doe-eyed and rose-scented. Lots of you probably know how hard it is through experience. And lots of you have probably seen or heard how difficult it is through other married friends. True, it is hard.

It is difficult and it is sweet. And somewhere in the middle it is very, very entertaining.

The difference between me and Andy is huge. He is all man. I take that as permission to be all woman. We process information in different ways, we use the same words to mean something totally different. There are lots of differences.

I'm going off on a tangent. What I really wanted to share are two sound bytes of real life with my husband.

Last night we came home from church and it was later than usual. In general we go to a service at 6 PM and get home around 8ish. Jack usually goes right into his pajamas and then into bed, but he was being SO charming that we let him stay up for a while.

By the time he was tucked in though, it was already 9:00 and I got the cleaning bug. Our landlord is coming over tonight (long story I won't bore you with) and whenever she does I feel compelled to present myself as the pinnacle of housewifery (did you know this word is actually in the dictionary). So I started doing that frantic clean up that includes taking everything off the counters and using a q-tip in dirty corners. The problem with this kind of cleaning is that it never, ever ends. There is always something else that needs to be dusted or organized or washed.

Sigh.

So as I was swept away in the cleaning my dear husband said, "You know you can take a break."

I can?

Oh.

So I would sit down on the couch for like two seconds and then pop up again to do something else.

I think he gave me a gentle reminder to rest about three times before I finally decided, "He's right. None of this will matter in a few weeks, or even tomorrow."

So I sat down on the couch and watched Amazing Race and let Andy scratch my back.

Yep, he's a good man.

But that STILL isn't what I was going to tell you about!

That wasn't even one of the 'bytes!

Argh!

I should know better than to try and have a point when I'm talking about my hero, there are just too many things to say.

I should also know better than to try and have a point when I'm pregnant.

Bear with me please.

Oh never mind. I'll have to tell you tomorrow. I'll warn you now, I'm going to skip the preamble and just jump right to my two favorite things Andy every said.

Not favorite romantic things.

Just comments that he's made about

our life.

If I skip the lead in maybe I can get them out before you start to fall asleep and drool at your desk.

Yes, I know you are reading this when you should be working.

Shame on you.

But I'm glad you read it anyway.

So, until tomorrow...

Three Cheers for Andy!

My Day in FB Updates

I try and make a point to not keep my Facebook status TOO up-to-date. It would never do for people to think that I have nothing better to do than let them know what I'm doing.

Additionally, I don't really think most of my virtual friends are that interested in what I am eating for lunch, what errand I am running or my current emotional state.

However, you, my faithful followers, I know are interested.

So, for you, here is what I considered posting during various points throughout the day:

Emily Aichele is leaving the house without a shower and in her husband's sweats. If you see me, please disregard my disheveled state. I promise I won't make a habit of it.*

Emily Aichele is about to undertake the absolute worst household chore... scrubbing the bathtub. Ugh. It needs to be said again, UGH.*

Emily Aichele wishes she had a cupcake to reward herself for finishing the most hateful job of tub scrubbing.

Emily Aichele doesn't keep cupcakes (or any other sweet baked good) in the house for the very reason that she would use them as incentive for finishing (or starting) unpleasant chores.

Emily Aichele confesses that she ate the pieces of cake she brought home last night from a party as a coping mechanism for a stressful morning.

Emily Aichele confesses that she medicated herself with cake while watching a show about obesity.

Emily Aichele thinks that no matter how sprinkled a grapefruit is with sugar, it really doesn't satisfy the craving for something sweet and buttery.

Emily Aichele is proud that she at least tried to soothe her sweet tooth with grapefruit. And is glad that there is no fallback baked good to eat following her healthy choice.

Emily Aichele finds herself balanced on the fence of shaking her head at her ridiculous ways and nodding in appreciation of her charming approach to life.

Emily Aichele wishes you a good evening. Sweet dreams.

*Actual update. I couldn't resist.

Feel Free To Copy Me

Next week marks the beginning of what I hope will be a thriving and delicious tradition.

Starting Monday, three families (counting my own) are embarking on a dinner co-op experiment.

What I mean is, one night a week I will cook a big meal and deliver portions to two of my neighboring families. Then, they will do the same for me. So I will cook one big meal each week, and get two worry-free meals in exchange. That sounds lovely to me.

Especially since cooking six adult servings is really not that much more work than cooking two.

In my mind this plan is a terrific one. I only hope that it turns out as perfectly as I am imagining.

What should I make for my first meal delivery? Oh the choices!

Speaking of food choices, yesterday I made the most spectacular spinach salad for lunch. This felt like a major accomplishment since I have mostly eaten microwaved nachos for lunch the last few months. I think there is something about hot cheese and corn chips that sooth me when I'm tired and strained. Remember how I used cheesy dip to cope after Jack was born?

Anyhow, my salad had a lush base of spinach and was generously topped with pear cubes, avocado and cucumber (and maybe a little feta cheese). I am planning on having another today.

Okay, and speaking of food in general, have you ever wanted to be a food blogger?

My friend Rosemary is one and she is getting famous. It is pretty awesome to know someone who is in the process of becoming famous.

If I were to confess a whim of my heart, it would be to have a blog like this or this.

I love the look. I love the idea of having different components of self-promoted expertise. If I ever had a big blog, I would have a tab for food, a tab for marriage, one for weird kids and maybe one for "Dear Fancy." What I really love is bossing. And telling people what to do and how to do it, which is, basically, bossing, and I already said that...

Awkward pause...

Anyway, I'm too afraid and lazy to ever set out to host a big blog. So I'll just have to continue to secretly dream and enjoy what other people have accomplished.

But back to the original question, what to make on Thursday for six adults to impress them and make them look forward to every time it is my turn to bring dinner?

I addition to bossing I also like impressing.

I think that might be something I need to reign in... but until a major internal examination and attitude overhaul, I still need to plan dinner!

Your ideas are welcome!

Free Time

Abruptly, Jack has gone back to two naps a day.

I don't expect it will last much longer, but for now, it means that I have two separate chunks of about an hour and a half all to myself.

I could use this time to tidy up, or take a nap, or read a book. But I find myself totally restless and totally aimless.

What is that about?

What a waste of all of those hours of napping!

Shame on me!

But it is okay right? To waste time on occasion?

Please tell me it is okay.

And please tell me that you have been thinking all day about the premier of Biggest Loser.

And please tell me it is okay to enjoy BL so much.

Oh dear.

I'm a mess.

But a happy mess.

For all my aimless hours, lacking in productivity, I find myself enjoying lounging on the couch watching my newest obsession and dreaming of all the things I would some day do to make over my bedroom.

I am glad that I have space in my life to dream.

Well here I am, blathering on. Not making any sense. Please forgive me.

Pregnancy does something to my brain.

As excited as I am to meet our new miss or mister, I will be delighted to have my body and mind back to myself (as much as can be with a newborn and toddler).

Speaking of meeting our baby... we get to find out the gender in about three weeks!

SQUEEEEE!

Pleasepleasepleaseplease let it be a girl!

Things I Am Thankful For

• A gracious, patient, faithful God.
• A husband who listens to me when I am processing life and still loves me even when I sound nuts.
• Friends who check in on me after several pathetic blog posts and ask, "Are you doing okay?"

To all of you who have wondered,

the answer is yes

I really am okay.

The prospect of two babies

of my own

is a little scary.

I think I forgot for a few weeks

how much God loves me

and how in control he is.

Forgive my blog meltdowns.

And know that you will probably see more.

But I'm hormonal and gaining weight

like crazy.

That warrants a meltdown

once in a while.

Right?

• A pastor who is a gifted speaker and a man who listens to God.
• Meeting new people who are willing to share their story.
• Drive thru food.
• A baby who goes to bed easily.
• A zoo membership.
• Family nearby.
• C.S. Lewis
• My sister who is just as excited for fall as I am.
• My other sister who says thing like this.

What You Need To Know About Today

Jack loves kiddie pools.

He spent three hours in one on Sunday and

another hour in someone else's today

I love rice pudding.

I'm slightly embarrassed to admit that fact,

but it is true

Jack loves coloring.

Wherever I put them,

he finds them and waves them in my face until

I pull out paper and start doodling with him.

I almost have him trained

not to stick them in his mouth,

but sometimes he gets cheeky and

tries it just to see if I'm on the ball.

I love drop in guests and coffee delivery.

Thanks Marli!

Finally, naps are my new best friend. I took one this weekend and upon waking I felt like a human again. Amazing!

Thanks Andy!

The Days Go By

I've been training a lot.

I've got a cold.

I love DayQuil.

Jack says, "no, no, no" as he proceeds to do something that he knows is off limits. 

He does things that are off limits... A LOT.

Andy is watching a really (really!) gruesome MMA (Mixed Martial Arts) fight. I can usually watch them with him, but once there is blood, I'm out-a-there.

MY CHAIRS CAME!

And Jack thinks they are terrific. 

That white thing is his safety blanket. 

His safety blanket is a snowman. Have I told you about his love for his snowman? By snowman, I really do mean a snowman. It was his Halloween costume and somehow, I don't remember how, it was in his crib one night. Since then it has been in his crib every night. When Andy and I put him to sleep he finds it, curls up all around it and smiles. My son, with a snowman lovey.

Sigh. 

Life is good. 

Waiting

Two of these wondrous creations are coming to my house. 

I ordered them two weeks ago.

They won't be here until the 25th. 

Ugh!

I hate waiting.

Please tell me that "I hate waiting" immediately makes you think of The Princess Bride.  The part where Inigo is offering the rope to the Man In Black, who will later be identified as Westley, and they exchange witty banter about the process of climbing the Cliffs of Insanity. 

If it does not, I fear for the longevity of our friendship. The exception is Andy, who despite refusing to watch the Princess Bride, somehow still won my heart. Still, I can hardly afford to make exceptions. 

"Once word gets out that a pirate has gone soft, it is nothing but work, work, work..." 

Not that I'm a pirate, it's just that I can only have one exception to the rule, so, unfortunately, that still leaves you all in danger if you cannot quickly identify the speaker and context of that quote.

Sorry. 

"Please understand I hold you in the highest regard..." Finish that line! 

Priorities

At this exact moment I have two boys sleeping.  Andy is crashed on the couch and Jack is out cold in his crib. 

I've been pondering all day why I don't do the things that I know I SHOULD do. Really, most of the time I even WANT to do the things that I know I SHOULD. 

The fact remains though, that I don't.

For example.

While both boys are sleeping, it would be the perfect time for me to get a long workout in. But it would also be an ideal time to take a little snooze. 

Rather than doing either of those productive (yes, I count naps as productive) activities, I am sitting here catching up on my blog reading and basically doing nothing. 

Most likely avoiding the choice of nap or workout until there is not enough time for either.

And my fingers still smell a little like the sandwich I had for lunch (it was garlicy) and like the stinky perfume Ellery asked to try on while I was giving her a piggy back ride.

That is very gross.

I guess I know the first thing I'll be doing.

Washing my hands.

Who knows what useful or wasteful thing I will do after that. 

A Spoonful of Sugar

I'm happy to report that the woes of earlier today were solved by:

• A 20-minute power nap
• A long shower and freshly shaved legs
  
• A husband-arranged night of babysitting 
  
• A bright pink dress
• Dinner at a favorite restaurant
  
• An early birthday present

The dishwasher is still acting up, the toys are still scattered about the house and will remain there until tomorrow night, family drama is still underway, but I am clean and well fed and have shared a few dreams with Andy. 

What a fickle woman I am. Now, instead of needing to kick someone, I am ready to eat a few bites of coconut ice cream with my hunky husband and get into bed for a full night's rest. 

This day ended much better than it began, that is for sure! 

I love it when that happens!

Two Things I Love

1. Slicing cantaloupe

2. Flat Earth Baked Veggie Crisps in Tangy Tomato Ranch

It Is Official

Well, there is no going back now.  

Andy and I are officially grown up.  Or at least, grown-ups. 

Earlier this week we met with our very own financial planner.  We outlined long-term financial goals and established retirement accounts, beyond the 401 offered by Andy's work. 

We discussed saving for Jack's college and realized that now that we are parents, we need to make a will, so that in the event of our untimely demise, there is a plan for Jack's well-being.  You can bet that conversation made me cry.  No decisions were made. We will come back to that when I feel a little more stable.

Gosh.  Just one year ago, I never even thought about these things.  And now look at me.  All grown up and responsible. 

Sheesh.

In other growing up news, Jack will have his first overnight stay at Grandma's house this evening.  I'm going to a conference tomorrow that requires that I leave at 6:00am, and that is much too early to be dropping off a baby... so the next most obvious choice is that Jack just spends the night, so that he gets a full nights rest and my mother-in-law doesn't have to get up at 5:30 in the morning.

But I'm kind of freaking out.  Well, not really.  But I want to.  I know it needs to happen sometime. I'm hoping to fly to Nashville in September for five nights or so, and I guess if I really am going to do that, I better take some baby steps toward letting my little boy spread his wings. 

Ugh. 

All this talk of wills and of Jack getting so big...

It's putting me in a funk.

Or that could just be the residual brownie guilt, the whining extra child today, or the fact that I only made it to the gym once this week.  

Whatever the reason, I need to snap out of it.  

So I've opened my windows and guzzled a great big glass of ice water.

I've got a gal-pal coming over for lunch and a plan in place to walk both babes to the park after their naps.  That makes me excited.  

Have I told you how much Jack loves to swing?

A lot.

Maybe that is what I need.  I good swing-session.

It shall be done. 

I hope you are entering the weekend funk-free and that you maybe even get a chance to swing a bit.

Wishing you loveliness today!

The Colors of My World

I'm No Expert But...

I need a second opinion.

I think this book may be misinforming and confusing young minds.  

Care to take a peek?

First:  You will notice that the cover highlights "letters," 

leading you to assume that your child will be exposed to, 

at the very least, colorful A, B and C.  Nope.

 Nowhere in the book is there any mention of "letters."

Second: Since when is "ABACUS" classified as a first word?

Third: Why not just call it a watermelon?  I'm pretty sure that in the US, all other melons have very distinct names, cantaloupe, honeydew... Perhaps there was some sort of licensing trouble with the whole term, watermelon. Hmm. This leads me to a dilemma when I read the book to Jack.  Do I read the word melon, because that is what is written, or do I call it a watermelon, because that is what is pictured? Do I write in "water" before the "melon" or do I just say, "Jack, this is a watermelon.  The word says, 'melon' but the picture is of a watermelon.  I don't know why they did that, but maybe they just didn't know."?  What is a mother to do? (The answer to that is, "As a mother, don't you have better things to worry about?" but I wasn't really asking for an answer, so we'll just move on.)

Fourth: I like to think I am pretty well versed when it comes to fruit.  

And I'm pretty sure these are not peaches, but apricots.  

Anyone with me on this one?

Fifth: This is a kid.  A baby goat.

Sixth:  This is also a kid.  A baby goat.  

Masquerading as a lamb.  

Just because you are white, does not mean you are a lamb.

The fur is all wrong.  The face is all wrong. 

 PEOPLE!  Just take a picture of a lamb! 

What is this world coming to when apricots are called peaces and kids are called lambs?!  You can't see me, but I am shaking my head in sorrow at this very moment.  

...

Despite the erroneous information in this book, Jack is getting smarter by the day.  I hope to have a post of all his new tricks in the very near future.  Maybe even later today!  But I just had to get these things off my chest first.  Thanks for hearing me out friends. I feel better now. 

Put Another Notch In My Lipstick Case

Well, my baby is walking hither and yon. Just four days before the big oh-one, and I have a toddler.  

We finally installed baby-proofing latches on our cupboards.  I say we, but you all know that I mean Andy, my handy man.  I am so, so grateful for that.  

Jack really loves garbage cans.  The bathroom one is right at his level and you can often find my with my foot on top of the lid, curling my hair and keeping him from pulling out yucky items from the trash receptacle.  

He also loves the kitchen garbage. 

Yesterday was not really a very good day.

Can I just confess that I've been a wee bit grumpy-overwhelmed-feeling like a failure-frustrated-and several other kinds of yucky this week?

I'm getting a hair cut tonight, so maybe that will help.  

But anyway, yesterday.

I got a call on Tuesday from a friend.  She said that a woman at our church, a mother of SEVEN, was in the hospital with kidney stones.  Yuck!  She asked if I could make some dinner and bring it over.

I said sure and immediately tried to think of what I could make, on a budget, to feed such a big family!  I was not very creative, but I figured it was okay. Food is food, and it is so much nicer when someone makes it for you, even if it isn't fancy.

So I went with the standard pasta dishes.  I got two big disposable foil pans and made one of white-sauce and meatballs, and one of a chicken parmesan.  Throw in a couple of bags of salad, a loaf of garlic bread, and I thought it was looking under control.  I put everything in a big box and, feeling virtuous, headed down the stairs to load it in the car.

People.

I was walking the box down the stairs and wouldn't you know, the bottom fell right out of the box.  Guess what else fell out of the box.  Everything.

EVERYTHING.

Pasta, salads, bread, and the sparkling cider that I threw in for mum and dad.  

Okay, so everything scattered on the stairs.  That was bad.  Add a crying child shaking the baby gate while I survey the damage.  Then add me stepping over the child to get new bags and paper towels.  Then add the crying child, giving up on crying and crawling over the pre-baby-proofed garbage, opening the cupboard and pulling out remnants of lunch and breakfast and who knows what. 

It was one of those slow motion moments.  A cherry on top of a yucky sunday.  I moment that you both laugh and cry because it is so ridiculous and so frustrating.  The proverbial straw.

But it didn't break my back.  

Because you know what, none of the pasta escaped the tins.  The lids broke and the pans got a little mangled and a teeny bit of red sauce splashed over the edge.  But all the food was still in tact.  And the cider bottle didn't burst!  And garbage on the floor is just garbage on the floor. 

So I sucked up the tears and put everything back in the best presentation that I could and made the trek to drop of the meal.

I apologized for the mangled tins, but you know, they didn't even mind.  All was well.

I still cried on the way home, because you know, sometimes you just need to cry.  But I made it and I helped someone else, and my cabinets are proofed and now it is just a story to tell and a lesson learned.

I really don't care for weeks when I feel so frazzled and worn, but I'm learning that they come and go.  I made it through this one.  I'll make it through others.  And on the horizon is a trip to a sunny destination, free babysitting,  roller coaster riding and maybe even a massage. 

Ah.

Excuse me while I close my eyes for a moment and dream... sigh.