Wednesday, August 29, 2012

School Days.

It begins.

Monday was the first day of school.  I am a home school mom and there are countless things I love about our school. 

In so many ways I am ready.  In others, not so much.  I am ready in the sense that I vehemently crave the routine that goes into a school day after a carefree summer.  It's funny how that school routine seems to carry over into other areas of my life.  Everything is on a schedule.  I plan meals more carefully.  Laundry actually gets put away.  Dishes are done.  Order is restored. 

I am not ready when I think about the fact that summer is essentially done and my girlies are now a full grade ahead of themselves.

Third grade.  First grade.  Preschool.

My sweet babies are... older.  How does this happen? 

As with most families this time of year, we have been riddled with doctor appointments.  Well checks, immunizations, dentist appointments, not to mention the slew of baby doctor visits I have since added to my schedule.  

It's been an amazingly healthy year for our family.  Until now.  

Funny how perfectly healthy people make visits to do the doctor to confirm they are healthy and two days later, the entire family is chilling with fever, subsisting on Tylenol, and overfilling every available trash receptacle with spent tissues.

It seems that everyone is now well.  Except me, of course.

No rest for the wicked, however.  The cupboards are bare and they won't fill themselves.  Off to the grocery I go....

Wish me coffee!


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Tuesday, August 21, 2012

Guilty.

For a long time I was one of those people with loads of good intentions, purchasing hoards of healthy stuff at the grocery store only to discover by the end of a busy week that it was rotten beyond belief.  And into the trash it would go.

Guilty.

Apparently, I'm not alone.  A recent study showed that 39% of Americans feel the most green guilt over wasting food.  Not to mention...  money down the drain. 

Guilty.

Last week our family was pleasantly surprised (blessed!) with a small heap of fresh peaches from good friends.  I knew there was no earthly way we could eat them before they were bad.  What's a girl to do?  Peach crisp was the first thing that came to mind.  I made three.  And even after all my girlies' afternoon peach snacks, we were still drowning in peaches.  I cut and sliced until I was dreaming of peaches, and froze every last bit by the quart. 

And then, our sweet friends dropped by another round.  Oh, sweet peaches, how do I love thee?  Let me count the ways:  Crisp.  Cobbler.  Pie.  A la mode.  Shall I go on?

Mom called.  Her kitchen was overflowing with fresh, garden tomatoes.  Did I want some?  (Ha.  Is the Pope Catholic?)

I bartered a bit.  Peaches for tomatoes.  A fair trade.

I spent the better part of the weekend cooking down those lovely, red fruits into a savory sauce, which immediately fulfilled their destiny in a delectable veggie lasagna.  The rest went the way of the peaches, frozen by quarts.

No waste.  And a freezer full of summer goodness to be enjoyed well into the throes of autumn. 


Squeezing the daylights out of a ripe tomato.  Therapeutic.


Monday, August 20, 2012

Crayons in the Fridge.

The house was still quiet.  The children all snug.  First light was barely streaming through the vintage lace curtains in the dining room. 

I opened the refrigerator, searching for inspiration for the morning's nourishment.  

And there they were.  

Crayons.   
In the fridge.

Sitting atop the lettuce and aside of the bagels. 

How could this be, you ask?  For anyone already acquainted with my life (or this blog), there can be only one explanation... 3-year-old, Lovey.  Like they were heaven-dropped, just for me.  I could do nothing but smile.  Surely, this was a love message from my sleeping angel, meant to be stumbled upon at this precise moment in time.

Just for me. 

I like to think God does something similar.  Dropping love messages in completely unexpected packages at the most appropriate of times.

Just for me.

I really thought we had this figured out.  I thought I had a plan.  But there He was, right in the center of life, making it all a little more interesting.  

Come early March (or hopefully February), there will be one more of us.  If I have still left you guessing (and possibly because I am still wrapping my head around the idea and having trouble putting it all into words), this means... baby.  

Another one.

And believe me, no one could possibly be more surprised (or undeniably thrilled) than us.  (I get to decorate a nursery.  Happy dance.)

For me that also translates into massive coffee withdrawal.  I'm basically dying.  My 4-a-day habit has waned into a 1/3-cup-a-day-fill-the-rest-of-the-cup-with-skim-milk-routine that just isn't cutting it.  

I need a good decaf, preferably water-processed and chemical-free, so I can psychologically fake out my brain for the next 18 months or so.  

Taking recommendations now.  

Ready.  
Set.  
Go.

Love & coffee. 
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Thursday, August 16, 2012

Upon Returning...

The house was clean.  And intact.  My world did not implode without me here. I couldn't have been more impressed.

Amazing.

I didn't doubt my sweet hubby.  It's just that this has never happened before.  Me... leaving.  And I'm pretty sure it won't be happening anytime again soon.  Ladybug and Lovey didn't seem to mind so much, but Peanut melted into a puddle of tears as I and my traveling companions drove away.  I couldn't look.  

Like, I said... not happening again anytime soon. 

I had a great trip and now I am feverishly scrambling to catch up on life.  School begins in little more than a week.  There are lessons to plan, papers to file, and supplies to organize.  

I look forward to this time of year.  The temperature is already cooling and I am itching to entertain friends with a cozy bonfire and good coffee.  

So much to love.  

And there is one more thing I should probably share... but I'll save that for tomorrow.  

Love and coffee. 

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Monday, August 6, 2012

Away.

That's where I'm going.  Away.  I am utterly beside myself.  For seven long days, I will be road-tripping away from my family.  Yes, the three angels and my devilishly handsome husband.  This has never happened before.  Ever.

I never leave my babies.  I am just one of those mamas that is always... here.  It's a business trip of sorts.  Necessary and pleasurable.  I am blessed to be traveling with good friends.  I intend to keep myself busy enough to make it go fast so I can come home to my sweet girls and the aforementioned hubby.

He is certainly more than capable. I have no doubts about that.  But nevertheless, Honey... a few notes:



1.  Deodorant must remain under lock and key.  Or Lovey will eat it.  We both know this.  The number for Poison Control is on the fridge.

2.  Sharpies belong on the the high shelf.  Or Lovey will suck the ink out of those, too.  Again, the number for Poison Control is on the fridge.

3.  If Ladybug says her room is clean, one look under the bed and into her closet will prove otherwise.

4.  Peanut will undoubtedly refuse to eat if any food on her plate is touching another food on her plate.  You can also forget about it if you touch any of her food with your bare fingers.  Or speak in her general direction, causing spittle to possibly contaminate her food.  Germophobia is not genetic.  I swear.  

5.  Lovey can now scale the kitchen cupboards unassisted.  She is entirely capable of consuming an entire container of popcorn salt, colored sugar, or birthday sprinkles in about 10 seconds flat.  Stay on your toes.  If this happens, flush with water and brace yourself for the imminent sugar high to follow.

6.  It is Ladybug's turn to put the soap in the dishwasher, regardless of what anyone may try to tell you.  I have drawn up a schedule.  It's on the fridge, right next to the number for Poison Control.  

7.  There is a container of chocolate ice cream hidden in the back of freezer.  Feel free to self-medicate.  

8.  If Lovey eats my herbal face wash again, don't sweat it.  Jason from Poison Control says it's harmless.  Yeah, we are on a first-name basis.  I think you will like him!  And once again, the number is on the fridge. 

9.   Potty training for Lovey is not going well.  Consider yourself warned.  Good luck with that. 

10.  When all else fails...  coffee.



Kiss my babies.  Takes loads of pictures.  And call often.



Love & Coffee.


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Saturday, August 4, 2012

Battle Update.

For anyone who may be wondering what became of the situation from this post:  This Is War.

The mouse... is toast.  

After arriving home with what I can only call the ultimate rodent death trap, that critter really didn't stand a chance.

Hubby gets all the credit.  And yes, he asked me to post this.  

He.  Is.  My.  Hero. 
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