so sorry, sweet blog.

You have every right to be mad at me.  I have completely ignored and abandoned my blog, and I feel sad about it.

Things have been a little upside down here lately.  Not bad, just different.  Kacie, our youngest, started Kindergarten and everything changed.  My kids were all of a sudden...big.  I expected lazy days to read 10 million books and have a clean house every day and study and sew and blog and have Barefoot Contessa caliber dinners and lunch with friends and volunteer and have an overwhelming sense of great personal accomplishment at the close of each day, and it just hasn't turned out that way.  go figure.  There's just so much to do.

I've been a little surprised by how hard it's been for me to make this transition.  It's just being a different kind of mommy now and I didn't think it would take getting used to for me, but it has.  It's still about the kids, and always will be, but now there is this element of me in there that has thrown me for a loop.  Now what do I do?  Now who do I be?  They're growing up, dang.  I really didn't expect these growing pains.

Oh I love my kids.  My crazy wall climbing ninja children.

So forgive me while this dear blog waits for me to get it together.  I will share my life and my makings with you...eventually.

I think that's the theme word of my life.  I may put it on a necklace...

eventually.

moving on.

We went to Canada this summer.  I have 10 million pictures to share but they are all stuck in Conan's computer because I already have 10 million other pictures in my computer and I don't have any more space for 10 million more and so there they'll sit, in Conan's cyber emptiness, until I can buy an external hard drive.  Or find another solution to my picture problem.  lame.

For now it's instagram.  I grabbed some for you off my phone so you could have a glimpse of what I'm missing.

School is in and Kacie started Kindergarten, which means I'm alone.  I thought I'd be excited about being alone, but I pretty much feel...well...alone.  I don't like it much right now.  All my kids are in school, and so begin the days when all my time management dreams are supposed to come true.  It's a new chapter of motherhood I will embrace by watching every available season of The Wonder Years.  alone.

Theoretically this means I'll have more time to blog.  I have some good projects to share {Girls Camp Craft ideas, a few bags, Dani's Hogwarts replica made of clay and cardboard, and something exciting for Sarah Jane}, so lets hope my theory holds true and I can make a sweet bloggy comeback.

I miss our vacation.  And our babies.  They're gone.
sniffle and sigh.

I hate socks.

This is my laundry room.  I'm not showing you my washer and dryer because that's not what I want to talk about.  And pay no attention to the I heart laundry bologna.  ignore it.  It was a positive affirmation I was using to trick myself, that I'm mad at.

I want to talk about this:

My Lonely Sock jar.  My INCREDIBLY OVERFLOWING Lonely Sock jar.

I share this desperately crowded container with you because I have a deep feeling that someone out there may be able to relate to my darkness and help me find the inner domestic peace I have been so longing for.

I put this jar in my laundry room months ago so all those sad lonely socks who had lost their sweet companions would have a place to go.  Friends to hang out with until their pair was found, you know?  That's a righteous desire, yes?  NO!  

I've created a sock swallowing abyss.  

my problem = overflowing sock jar and naked feet because nobody has any socks to wear because they can't seem to locate that big jar labeled SOCKS.

My solution = Empty the thing, and every sock drawer in the house, right in front of the tv and politely request that the sweet naked footed children MATCH THE SOCKS!  Or live forever in their bareness.

(The little pile off to the side are Conan's socks, so as not to be confused (and stolen) as little boy socks.)

The reaping went rather well.  I didn't take pictures because there was much weeping, wailing, and gnashing of teeth which I chose not to document.

Each pair-less sock was successfully eliminated!  I had to add a rule that if any sock had a hole larger than their pinky toe it was also thrown out, along with its pair.  And the rest made it safely back to where they belong in their drawer of choice...together...forever.  

Aaaaahhhh.  empty jar.  sigh.  life is good to me.

It's been 3 days.  

I repeat...THU-REE days.

And may I present to you, my once upon a time empty Lonely Sock jar:

Wha, huh?! 

WHERE DID THOSE COME FROM?  WHY ARE THEY HERE?  WHY CAN'T THEY JUST LEAVE ME ALONE?!!  For all that's good and lovely in this world.

i totally quit.

"Where the whooey are my hair bands?"

 

"What the?  Why are these...murmur murmur...
stuck around the...murmur murmur..."

"Wha huh?...."

Apparently there's a secret Barbie Underground.

joey and kacie.

Joey started kindergarten today. He's ecstatic. I'm happy for him.

Kacie's miserable.

She misses her best friend.

She told me today while shopping at Sam's Club,

"Mom, you're nice. But this would be a lot better with Joey."

Then she cried because she knew Joey would want an ice cream.

When we came home she decided to watch Power Rangers for her quiet time.

She hates Power Rangers, but Joey loves it.

When the carpool dropped Joey off, Kacie was first to the door.

They got themselves a bowl of ice cream

and held hands as they went to finish her quiet time.

Watching his show.

In one year Kacie will be in school, too.

and it all changes.

I'm ready.

But I don't think I'm ready.

I love how they love eachother.

this blog has been officially swallowed by summer.

with only two weeks left, I'm giving in.

I will no longer pretend I'm going to blog about our days.

Summer wins.

see ya in a few.

moments.

Crouched on the concrete, Joey watched it flutter and land, flutter and land. With 100 kids splashing and yelling in full swimming pool pandemonium - he and a few sat watching that flirtatious butterfly swoop and stop on the edge of the deep end. With palms open he sat, carefully studying and waiting.

Still, steady, patient.

Flutter, land.

...slap.

With a satisfactory smile, he slowly opened his hands to reveal his prize - but didn't even lift his head to notice it fly away. He stared in amazement.

His palms dusted.

I could barely hear his astonished whisper...

"it's magic."

It was a brief keepsake, watching Joey in the midst of chaos.

And a sweet reminder...

There is magic in mayhem.

Happy Tomatoes.

I have this tomato print {found on Etsy} hanging above my sink. It has become the perfect place for me to organize mealtime.

I don't like making the same thing for dinner over and over. I get bored easily and I want my family to eat good food, so I try new things a lot. Dinner time can be hectic, so I have a system.

The Happy Tomatoes.

I have a great collection of cookbooks (I love them), a binder with recipes I've ripped out of Food Network Magazine, a nice array of online recipe boxes from various websites, and food blogs bookmarked like crazy. These are my resources...plenty of them.

Every two weeks I make a new menu. I pick just one resource...one cookbook, or my binder, or a website, etc. This way I know where to find each recipe and I don't confuse myself.

Then I spend an hour or so picking out around 10 good recipes. I write them down (with a dry erase marker) on the happy tomatoes, and then right down all the ingredients I need on my grocery list. I try to find recipes with similar ingredients, to save money and not waste anything.

Then I pick 3-4 "flex" recipes from my head. You know, the easy quick ones you always remember. The ones you can whip together at the last minute.

I put a little circle by the recipes with the ingredients that will go bad quickly, so I remember to make those first (not pictured. I was lazy this week). There's nothing worse than buying green peppers just to throw them away a week later. ugh.

In the top right hand corner I write down some side dish ideas.

The bottom right is dessert, snack ideas.

So while I'm standing over the sink snarfing down a brownie after breakfast, I can choose what to make for dinner and I know I have the ingredients for it. I have a variety of recipes to choose from (which is good, I like choices...I might not feel like having Italian on Tuesday, or Pizza on Friday. Sometimes I want Rigatoni on Mexican Monday...you know? variety.), I know exactly where to find the recipe, and I can prep anything I know I'll need for the 5:00 dinner rush.

I'm happy.

My family's happy.

We have Happy Tomatoes.

Dress up like you're 100, for the 100th day of school.

Andy is all or nothing.

He moaned when he walked out the door.

And complained he had a hernia.

Dani made him a hearing aid out of modeling clay.

Andy chose not to listen to me all day, just to stay in character.

He said he was sorry, he had his aid turned down.

just in case you needed to know.

Gloop.

Options of removal:

cream of tartar or vinegar.

Neither are pleasant.

fyi.

i'm making a dress

{staring in the mirror contemplating

the unwanted poofiness of the first draft.}

and a quilt

and bowties

and hemming pants

and two bags

and a pillow

and dolls

and a mad mess.

waiting for the simplicity of lists.

why does one believe it is possible

to do 50 million things at once?

maybe I should just make

dinner.

there.

simple.

and everyone's happy.

my kids won't eat ramen.

what's up with that?

we kept this birthday simple. and happy.

He's celebrated,

and can tell me all his secrets,

and can eat whatever he wants for dinner.

we all have a happy day.

You're pretty remarkable, Andy. I'll write a book about you someday.

egg.

We walked down the road to see the neighbors chickens.

All the kids got to keep a souvenir egg,

which they were real excited about.

Some more so than others.

After we'd been home for about negative 2 minutes

Andy walks up to me with a little smile on his face.

He says, "Mom, I found a nice comfy pillow

and I sat on my egg. But it didn't hatch."

no. no it didn't.

I keep a notebook by my bed. And a dictionary.

Whenever I want to feel smart I read the dictionary.

And whenever I think I'm smart, I write it down in my notebook.

So I don't forget.

When I go places, I like to take my dictionary and my notebook, in case I hear or see something I want to know more about, or someone wise says something I want to remember. Then I have somewhere to put it.

I don't trust my mind to remember.

Sometimes when I feel tired, or impatient, or distracted, or selfish, or hungry, or weak, or grouchy, or greedy, or confused, or sad, or worried, or busy...I like to read my notebook.

This last Mother's Day Lara gave a talk in church and she spoke about her mother. She said, "My mother was joyful. She sang while she did the laundry..."

I wrote that down.

I thought that was wise, and I wanted to remember; so I could read it months later in a tiring moment when I kind of wanted to cry, so I could feel again how I felt when Lara talked about her Mom. The joy and gratitude I felt for the job. The love I felt for my children and for my Heavenly Father. and for laundry.

So in that moment, I could brush it off and remember

to sing.

I'm glad I wrote that down.

yes.

I went a little crazy and let him open an umbrella inside.

My sister told me a while ago about how she was watching a show with a cool family on it and the Mom said "If you can say yes to your kids, say yes often."

Hmm. We thought about how often our first response is no or not now, and we don't really have a good reason for it. So we tried for a full day to say yes, if we could.

The day has turned into a month, and I still think about it. I'm still trying.

It makes a big difference, if I can remember. They are much more willing to wait or to accept the no's when I say yes more often to the little things. They're more understanding of me because they feel like I understand them.

This doesn't mean to let them do whatever they want and go all crazy, it just means to allow yourself to let go and not have an immediate selfish response to requests. Not to worry about the mess, because {almost} everything is clean-up-able. It means to let them open an umbrella inside once in a while. no big deal, right?

I love their faces when I say "uh {this is where I pause and ask myself if I have a good reason to say no, and I usually don't}...yes, you can."

surprise. delight. gratitude.

it makes for a much less whiny household.

and sometimes broken umbrellas. but that's okay, right?

yes.

to my kids.

I love them.

logic.

We went to the park this morning. Unknowing they had turned on the fountains. The kids played nicely on the playground, following an apologetic request from mom for them to stay where it was dry. They did fabulously, and even came to the car on the first request when it was time to go.

However. Since we've been home, Joey has used every strategy he can think of to go back to the park with the water. A million of these: "Mom. I wanna go back to da park dat had da water." "I know sweetheart. Not today, sorry." "Pwease can we go to da park with da water?" "No Joey. Not today."

So he threatened he would go on his own if I didn't give him a ride.

He told me he'd never let me make cookies again if I didn't take him.

He said he'd never eat bean soup in his life if I didn't say yes.

And then he thought of it. He'd draw on himself. Because if he was covered in x's, I'd HAVE to take him to the park with the water.

"If I can't go to da park with da water, I'm going to have these marks on my body forever. And that will make you sad."

seems logical. smart dude.

we're not going.

tomorrow is a difficult concept for a kid.

ps. I heard him tell Andy the x's on his body were all the places people couldn't hit him. Andy said, "that doesn't make much sense." And Joey said, "yes it does. because mom won't dwop me off at da water."

makes perfect sense, really.

sometimes you miss noodles.

I've been out of town; in NYC.

being away makes you realize how happy you are to come home.

eating in New York makes you realize how boring your food is.

subways make you realize how clean your house is.

i sure love home.

I sure love cute noodles.

padded.

We picked up Andy from school and went to Hobby Lobby.

I overheard Joey whisper to Andy

that he had on 10 underwears.

huh?

So I checked him out, unbelieving,

and sure enough, he was padded.

Oh, the mysteries of the 4 year old thought process.

I dunno.