I have such strong childhood memories of my dad's Saturday breakfasts. Especially the smells. Oh the smells! He traveled a lot when we were kids, but he was usually home on weekends. And that's how we knew he was home--the smell of breakfast on Saturday. Oh how I looked forward to Saturday! Still do. But it's K who cooks now and my own children who will remember.
I hope so at least.
On the menu:
Here's a little trick we learned today. To remove crayon from painted surfaces (walls, furniture, chalkboards, etc), use a hair dryer. It melts the wax and you can wipe it right off.
You're welcome.
c
I shot this on a family outing to the planetarium recently. Hey, lookie there, K's eyes are open (never mind the crazy deer-in-the-headlights thing) and Asher's looking at the camera, so enjoy it, folks. It may be as good as it gets this year.
We saw the short film Bugs! in 3D while we were at the planetarium and liked it. Judi Dench narrates. The cinematography's spectacular. And if that doesn't sell you--there's a praying mantis mating scene [insert steamy smooth jazz soundtrack] that made my sister laugh out loud for 10 minutes. Ten minutes. Seriously. It was embarrassing.
Also, I picked up some of these little Dover activity books for the kids in the gift shop. I usually don't buy stuff in gift shops because I think it's overpriced, but these were cheap (but not junky) and the kids really liked them. They'd make great party favors and/or stocking-stuffers.
Well, it's official. As of a few weeks ago, K and I have been husband and wife for 10 years. Ten years. That's, like, 20 batches of spudnuts together!
And now, to commemorate this momentous occasion, a touching scene from our beautiful life together...
Yesterday, K made pizza. A meat-and-cheese-lover's masterpiece of sausage, homemade sauce, and mounds and mounds of delicious mozzarella. And then --
he dropped it.
On the floor.
Topping-side down.
(How does that happen?)
But that wasn't the worst/best part.
No, the worst/best part had to be the kids' reaction, which can be summed up neatly in just one word:
"Again?"
Yeah, hard to believe, isn't it...
The moral of the story?
Work together. Laugh a lot. And marry a man who never cries over spilled pizza.
Here's to another 10 years, dear pizza-dropping + apron-wearing + spudnut-flipping man o' mine!
This is me after a long vacation -- eyes squeezed shut (laundry? what laundry? I don't see any laundry) and just a little behind the ball. But...I'm back! With lots to show and tell from the last 6 weeks. I hope you'll come around to see.
P.S. I used Picnik on this photo. Kinda fun. (And free.)
Once upon a time, a woman had her third baby. Her husband had a job that required him to travel a lot, so she invited her younger sister to live with her and be her nanny. It was the summer after the younger sister's freshman year of college.
The younger sister agreed. She boarded a plane to the Midwest, little knowing that one day, 12 years later, the roles would be (quite literally) reversed. That eventually, she herself would grow up, get married, and have her own third baby. That she would live in the Midwest, no less. And that her sister would board a plane to visit her there, having long since moved away from the area herself.
Funny how things change, and yet they stay the same. Sure, the older sister's been out of practice for a while, but she can still work a gassy baby like a pro. It's "like riding a bike" as they say--
just pedal those little legs and...ahhhhhh.
***********
[Gifts for an out-of-town guest: her favorite Jujyfruits in pretty packaging we had on hand + slippers from Target]
love this photo. so peaceful. in the very space where she was born. third baby, first homebirth, and i gotta say--it was kind of awesome. maybe i'll tell you about it someday. but right now, duty calls. off to smell some baby hair and kiss some baby toes...
life is rough, isn't it?
many thanks for your love and well-wishes!
xoxo,
c
********************************
You may have noticed things have slowed down considerably around here as we prepare for the arrival of "Baby Orange". (Or "Baby Angel", depending on which of my children you ask.) Admittedly, my mind is on other things besides blogging at the moment--washing tiny clothes, rearranging bedrooms, pushing another human out of me--but just so you don't think I'm completely ignoring you...
what say you: pink or blue?
(Alas, definitely not a puppy, much to Asher's disappointment.)
Big news in Olivia Land...
her Very Own Library Card.
May she be more responsible with it than her mother. (I'm doing better, really. But, well, punctuality has never been my strong suit. It's what? June? July? I still owe both our parents a Christmas present...)
Two places you're likely to find us on any given afternoon: the pool (106 degrees last week--yowzah!) and the library.
Behold the library basket:
Fancy storage system we've got going there, isn't it?
Look closely and you will see the requisite Nancy Drew Notebooks, as well as a few other mystery novels. Girlfriend has started to branch out a bit, recently adding Flatfoot Fox and the American Girl mysteries to her list of must-reads. Both are fairly quick/easy (Flatfoot Fox more so than the others) and highly recommended for fellow mystery-lovers of the 6- to 8-year-old set.
[Note to self: Encyclopedia Brown! Soon. I think she will like him. Even if he is a boy.]
[Note to readers: Anyone else I'm missing?]
You may have noticed the plethora of Titanic books in the library basket as well. It seems to be the topic du jour for both children, prompting a multitude of questions from the hilarious ("Can we get a boat?") to the unsettling ("Why do bad things happen to people?"). The first one is easy (um, no) but the second, well, ask your mother. Oh, wait, that's me. Um, Grandpa...?
And speaking of questions I am ill-prepared to handle...
"How did that baby get inside your belly?"
<Blush. Fumble. Pray. Read.*>
What's on your summer reading list?
The littlest one in the house is sick today, so I'll keep it short...like my mom. Heh. Here she is, third from the left and somehow managing to look tall (-ish) in this photo:
I love this photo of my mom. (And her mom, actually, next to her, on the right.) She looks so young and fabulous. It's fun to imagine her as a twenty-something "girl about town" in San Francisco in the 1960s. I'm not sure I would have been cool enough to be her friend then (short hair + coastal humidity = not a good look for me) so it's lucky I got to call her Mother first.
Friendship has come over the years, especially as I've had my own children and experienced motherhood from the other side of the counter. ("What? Moms are people too? With...feelings? Ohhhh.") I treasure that friendship and my mother's presence in my life, even as present circumstances keep us physically absent from each other.
I also treasure the other women in my life who have played mothering roles--K's mom, grandmothers on both sides, each of my sisters. I never would have guessed that the older I got the more I'd need my mothers. Seems backwards, but it's true. Thank you, all of you, for being you.
Happy Mother's Day.
xoxo,
c
