The Random Roundup

Since three of you (my mom included) requested the recipe for the bread I bragged about not burning, here you go:
Apple Banana Bread
And if it turns out to be not so great, just keep in mind that we have relatively low standards for food around here (see the undercooked chicken reference of 1998).

Also, my friend Erin, who spills her sense of humor and depth of soul all over her blog Together for Good, gave me a little blog award. Real quick about Erin...She's so much fun, and even though I only met her over the internet, I feel like I could walk into her messy house (that's her sayin' it, not me!) and give her a big ol' hug and scoop up her adorable baby girl, and it would be like we had known each other since the second grade. Except that when she was in the second grade, I probably was in junior high. And it might have messed with my sleek 12 year old image to sing a duet of Germs the Invisible Dog with a second grader.

So perhaps we would have been BFFs onward from the college/high school years. Either way, she's wonderful, and that Honest Scrap award is from her. And even though I'm supposed to tell you ten things about myself and tag people, I don't feel like it. And I know Erin would approve because she's super chill. Just one more thing I love about her.

Also, I'm running 8.8 miles in a relay on Sunday, and I'm not sure how this came to be. My back woke me up super early this morning to ask me who I'm kidding. And I don't know what to tell my back, let alone the rest of my body. So whenever you wake up, before you put on your make-up, will you say a little prayer for me?

Finally, I decided to link up this post to the Saturday Evening Blog Post at Elizabeth Esther's place. It's a great idea, I think, to give folks a chance to share their favorite post from the month and provide a place to snoop around in search of good reads and new connections. Check it out if you get the chance!

Have a great weekend!

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A Walk in the Wide Wide World

This morning we went for a walk in the wide, wide world.We spotted a fuzzy caterpillar trying to cross a train track and safaried through a towering reed jungle, scaring off the white heron with our amateur monkey impressions.

The little ones posed on boardwalk bridges; and in exchange for a few canned smiles, they found opportunities to swing from a 2x4 like the aforementioned monkeys, feet dangling freely over the marsh. And because it's all fun and games until a child requires extraction from the cold murky water, we wisely cut the photo shoot short. No more monkeys swinging on the bridge!
She made it a very long way before she wanted to be carried. She plodded through the thick forest where she claimed the lights were off, and up to the waterfall where it was debatable whether the excitement was attributable to the rushing water or the long anticipated arrival of snack time.

And speaking of snacks, I may have to limit those in the future. Because girl, you're getting heavy! I only carried her a half mile, if that. But my back complained the entire day about it and is still holding a bit of a grudge.
As I carried her, she leaned in against my cheek a few times and giggled out a dozen reps of my name. She tugged at my sleeve and petted my hair, and when I told her to stop, she simply replied, "But I holdin' on, Mama. I jus' holdin' on."

Thanks, Sweetheart. I should have know that if anyone could simultaneously melt my heart and break my back, it would be you.

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I Love Them...A Bushel and a Peck

Autumn is upon us, and strange things are happening.

1) Alert the media! Dani is willingly eating fruit! Apples, to be exact. When we stopped at an orchard this week for a half peck (just to hold us over until we could do full-scale apple picking), Dani sampled a mini Macintosh. And since then she's been eating apples as if they grow on trees. And apparently they do.

2) I got the urge to bake banana-apple bread. From scratch. With carmelized apples and everything. And then I actually acted upon the urge. And didn't burn the bread. No pictures are included here because it is already gone. It was that good.

3) Larry randomly and generically announced, "I like your cooking." Friends, we need to pause and just let that one sink in. This is coming from the man who loves telling the story about the time I served him undercooked chicken in what he deems to be an attempt to finish him off. Never mind that I tried to eat the chicken too. Apparently, back then I was neither a skilled cook, nor a skilled assassin. Either way, we've come a long way from "Are you trying to KILL me?" to arrive at "I like your cooking."

The theme this week for You Capture @ I Should be Folding Laundry is "the feeling of fall." And by that, I don't think Beth means the way I felt when I stepped on a lego and then in the owwing-yelling-hopping, fell forward into the door frame. No, I think she means the seasonal feeling. And this week, the fall feeling has been all about the apples--the versatile fruit that Dani eats, I bake and Larry appreciates.

So, how do you like them apples?
I love them. A bushel and a peck.

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Da 'Curls

Note: This post is written primarily in Dani-lish. Please refer here if you need translation assistance.

Mama! Da 'curls go too past!

Dey p'ay peekaboo wid me!

Not weady to go. I say bye to the 'curls pirst.

Haha, dey so punny. Wait! Come BACK HERE 'CURL! I say bye TO YOU!

(Yater, on da way home)
Mama, da 'curls don't yike me to go to deir t'eehouse. Dey p'ay hide n seek. Dey bouncy when I pind dem.

Dat was pun, Mama. I wuv da 'curls. Do YOU wuv da 'curls Mama?

No, not really, Darlin'. But I love the way you do.

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He Had Me at "I'm Home"

I realize it now, only after he's come home.

September spoke in incomplete sentences. It sounded strange, felt a bit off, but I didn't try to diagram the cause. I just kept rumbling forward like a run-on.

After a long month away, he returned home and gave us the subject we were missing in all that going and doing. He even put an end to those dangling participles.

Last week, he walked through the door in time for dinner almost every night, bringing lungfuls of fresh air. He enforced broccoli consumption, hung a mirror, chaperoned a bike ride, engaged in homework, held our hands. He lauded the leek soup, prodded thank-yous from the children.

Subject. Verb. Prepositional phrase. He's home, and life finally sounds the way it should. We are again a family of four.

Yesterday when we walked the trail after dinner and a day of rain, he found Dani's puddle jumps to be just as darling as I did. It meant the same--so much--to us both when the little ones snuggled under each of his arms and soaked in his college football tutorial. (Sorry Papa, seeing as they are our children and we have the final say on fan indoctrination, there will be no more "Go Blue"-ing via Skype.)

I'm out of ways to say it except for the way that Jerry Maguire did. And while I'm admittedly prone to cliche, even I draw the line at the the you-complete-me mush. No. I won't say it. I won't. I won't.

But really, it's the only way to say it. Because he does.

And because he does, he had me at "I'm home."

Unwrapping this gift of homecoming as part of Tuesdays Unwrapped hosted by Chatting at the Sky.

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Saturday Morning Breather

I'm here in our makeshift kitchen, and I must tell you that the banana ice cream is simply to die for. No really. You probably WILL die if you actually eat it, seeing as it's a combination of wood and paint fashioned into the likeness of bananas and a cheese block. I give the kids credit for getting the fruit and dairy combination right. But I'll stick to my coffee, thanks.

Now that Caed is in school, I am loving Saturday mornings. I love that 8:30 a.m. can saunter past with nary a care about where our shoes are, or why the girl took her socks off AGAIN, whether jackets will be required, and without any negotiations about the sudden sentimentality of toys that MUST COME WITH US IN THE CAR TO SCHOOL, OH PLEASE, OH PLEASE, OH PULLLLEEEESE!

My blood pressure just spiked a little bit when I typed that last sentence. But what was I saying? Oh yes. I love Saturday morning. I don't care that it begins at 6:00 or 6:30 a.m. because I know I can stretch it out as long as we like. When the kids opened their bagel-stuffed mouths to ask what we were going to do today, I said, "Let's just see where the day takes us (and don't talk with your mouth full)."

So, the day took us downstairs to build the biggest train track ever in our pajamas. Caed's doing all the engineering work, and I'm just chipping in with an encouraging word or two about the banana ice cream and the creative train bridge construction.

Yes, indeed, I like where this day is going. "Nowhere" has such a nice ring to it, don't you think?

So, where is your day taking you?

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Carpe Diem? Check.

When the second day of fall feels like the first day of summer, you toss the to do list, phone a friend and make the very most of it.


Dani, repeat after me. We throw rocks to make splashes, NOT gashes.

If you think this next picture looks precarious, you should see the video clip I took of a near noggin miss.
If Kate stops taking my calls, I'll be able to think of at least one reason. Because friends don't let their kids throw rocks at their friends' kids. And they most definitely don't document it and then blog about it later.

Maybe it would be safer if we just run around for a bit.
There, that's better.

I'm happy to announce that the day was seized (held captive on an island, in fact, and pebbled to a pulp).

I'm also relieved to report that no noggins were actually harmed in the making of this post.

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I'm Still Learning What Not To Wear

The day was soiled before dawn. It started with the stripping of sheets and polka dotted sleepers. The freeing and feeding the dog. Shushing the shaking collars and singing toddlers.

The morning rushed out ahead of me like that dang dog, hurdling over my feet, extending not even the courtesy of a moment to step aside. Sure. Just slide around and remind me that I'm not the alpha.

I am a human doggie door. A shoe courier, the route from the mudroom to the bedroom now an eyes-closed path. A directions dispenser, opening my Pez mouth in the over and over speech. I redress the mattress, collect the trash, check the urine samples (did you really pee in the potty or are you just pretending to get a candy?).

I am anything but alpha.

And to make it worse, today I chose not to believe that it is better to serve. Can't I just serve long enough to be recognized as the mom who does everything around here? Somebody! Look! See how great I am! Tell me you don't know what you'd ever do without me. I'll accept any form of credit. Please, just hand over the card.

So I let the day soak in the soiled attitude. I dressed the hours in wet pajamas and then complained about the stink. It's embarrassing when I step back and see the outfit I wore. Were my inward grumblings really that whiny? That self-centered? That ugly?

Uh huh.

I don't have a quick spray solution. I'm not sure in the practical sense how to overcome the stench of this wasted woe-is-me day, to toss aside the what-was-I-thinking outfit and put on patience, kindness and joy.

But in my closet is the promise of a new morning with new mercies, a fresh start, a new outfit. It's hanging right up front, waiting for me to reach out, pull it down and make a wardrobe change.
At the end of my ugly day, I saw this. Don't you love that orange rock, dressed better than any other? It is covered in life, propping life up from underneath. If the rock had feelings, maybe they would be hurt. "No one sees me beneath this pile of takers," it might say. But the rock would be wrong. Because in serving the tiny bits of life that cling to its every crevice, it has become the most beautiful, the most remarkable rock of all.


This well-dressed rock is the gift I unwrap for Tuesday, a visual reminder to choose joy in service.

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Birthday Bliss: Day Two

I'm reminded today of why I took up blogging. Because the events from just a few days ago are already fuzzy enough to blend in with the dryer lint. (I also blog because it gives me an excuse to avoid the dryer and all its lint-filled glory. But that's another story for another day.)

You could argue that Day Two of Birthday Bliss didn't really begin until Daddy showed up to pick Caed up from school. After some hugging and jumping and a month's worth of "Guess what Daddy!", Caed turned to the matters most pressing. "So, is it time yet to open presents!?"

And without further adieu, the unwrapping began. It was impossible to capture the glee on his face, simply because he couldn't take his eyes off his newly acquired treasures.

In the picture below, he is announcing that two of his most favorite things have become one ridiculously cool combination: STAR WARS LEGOS!!!
Oh, and do you see that baseball glove? It's official. He's a lefty.

Anyway, to continue on with the spoiling, we enjoyed a dinner of his choosing and an ice cream cake. But the biggest surprise of all came with the announcement that after dinner, he and his friend Chase (and their respective Dads) would be attending the Demolition Derby at the motor speedway that very evening.

What better way to turn five than to witness trucks and cars crashing, flipping, speeding, racing, and smashing?
He returned home way past his bedtime, eyes heavy yet somehow still twinkling, and proclaimed the evening out as "Awesome." Then added, "And you won't believe it, Mom, but I also got POPCORN!"

Well, if that isn't the buttery crunchy icing on the cake.

It was a very good day. Make that two very good days.
And while we're at it--make that five wonderful years. Here's to many more!

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Birthday Bliss: Day One

I might have mentioned a time or twenty that my baby was about to turn five. But I might not have mentioned that my husband was out of state for the past month. And that he didn't return until the day AFTER Caed's actual birthday.

But don't feel sorry for Caed. Oh no. He made out quite well thanks to the parental guilt regarding his father's absence. He enjoyed two full days of birthday indulgence with arguably too much sugar on top.

On his actual birthday, we brought cupcakes to school to share with his class. And since my inner bully beat up my inner Martha Stewart ages ago, the cupcakes were the store bought variety. The truth is, I haven't been able to bring myself to make a cupcake since the red frosting episode of 2007.

After consuming an ample amount of frosting, we drove straight to the beach to meet up with friends. The idea was we'd just walk out on the sandbar at low tide and wouldn't "go in the water or get too messy." My friend Kate and I figured if we said it a hundred times, it might actually come to fruition. But alas. Have you met our children?

Yes, hello. I'd like a double order of wishful thinking, and can I get that to go?

(Yes, that is sand clinging to his wet shorts!)

Okay, so it got a little messy. But not so messy that we couldn't pick up and go to the local seafood dive for some fried oceany goodness. About halfway through dinner, Kate and I exchanged a look of "I could so fall asleep right now", while our kids continued to repurpose their ketchup. We gave them points for creativity, docked points for dawdling, and eventually pulled out the ice cream card. Nothing says "finish your dinner" like a little mint chocolate chip, am I right?

And so concluded the first day of birthday bliss.

I must interrupt this regularly scheduled birthday recap program to remind myself (as Kate did that afternoon) that this is where I live.

You can bet I'll be looking at these pictures from late October well into next April to combat those long winter blues. Feel free to call me on it when you hear me complaining in January.

But back to the birthday boy. I didn't realize until now that I took this picture exactly five years (to the hour) from the time my baby boy was placed in my arms. And would you just look at him now? WOW.

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