Wednesday, June 30, 2010

The Beauty, The Beast and The Brawny Man

Our 7th wedding anniversary was last weekend. Grandma Honey offered to watch the piglets while Brawny Man and I had some time to ourselves. (Thank you, Gram!)

I think we were a little bamboozled (how do you like that word?) at the prospect of spending time alone together. Really. Like so much that we didn't know what to say to each other. We kind of stared at one another and then looked away. Smiled. Snuck another peek at each other...grinned, shook our heads and ventured a few, non-child related words.

The words turned into sentences. The sentences turned into jokes and memories. The grins turned to full on laughs and we were us again.

Cheers to seven years.

I know, that looks like a lot of wine on the is.
We were wine-tasting at this cute lil place.
We didn't finish it all...and what we did finish gave my tough, man-o-steel a tummy ache that lasted through the rest of our meal.
At one point, I think he said, "Look at me. So lame. I have no idea how to do this dating thing anymore." As he made his way, green-faced, to the bathroom...again.
He'll love that I blogged that.

Smoked duck appetizer. Delish.

He's like, totally hot.
I can't tell if that's the look of love or the look of nausea.
I'm good with whichever...

He mustered up the gastric strength to go on with our plans of seeing Beauty and the Beast on stage. My man loves Beauty and the Beast. To the point of quoting each and every word. And that's okay, because I love it to. I actually find it quirkily charming. Mr. B's got quirkily charming down pat.

Let me tell you, the man positively glows when Gaston comes on the stage. What kind of person decides that Gaston, a french sociopath, is his hero? I think it's the biceps. And I don't blame him really, I'm a sucker for chiseled musculature too.
At one point, when his adoration for Gaston was at it's peak I said, "You do realize that Gaston does not get the girl in the end. You remember this, don't you?"
He smiled. He squeezed my hand and kissed my cheek.
Yes, we were us again. And it was good.

Tuesday, June 29, 2010

Kids in Summer

...his bare toes curling and uncurling as they soak up the summer sun for the first time...

...the way her blonde hair comes out of its "pony" around her face and springs into tiny ringlets...

...his determined way of practicing throwing and hitting the badminton birdie. for close to an hour...

...her toenails painted a chipping, neon orange...

...the way they munch their corn on the cob, butter dripping down their chins, in no particular organized way...

...his rounded baby belly in a grey onesie... popsicle dripping stickily down their chins and onto their chests...

...nerdy looking sunglasses that they feel so "cool" sporting...

...doughy, exposed thighs just begging to be kissed...

...squeals and splashes coming from the kiddie pool...

...his fascination with squirt guns...

...her fascination with baby dolls in the stroller...

...his baby-fascination

...crunching popcorn in the cool dark of a movie theatre...

...a sweaty hand reaching for mine in the last few minutes of our walk...

...wet heads resting on my shoulder for story time after an evening bath...

A Day in June

Good morning, world.

Our day actually started sometime around 2:00 am with a middle-of-the-night feeding. Sweet and cuddly as it was, there was no room for a camera in our nest made of sheets at that hour. So you get a 7 am shot - and this is the beginning of A Day in June: A Photojournal.

Evie appears complaining of a ", a belly, a headache." The ache is gone within minutes. "Ache? What ache?"
Good morning, Evie.

Searching the under-the-bed storage for Mr. Britt's outfit for the day. Did I mention yet that my baby - 3 1/2 months old - is wearing 6-9 months clothing? Yes, he is. This is why my back aches.

Getting dressed.

An admirable start to the day's laundry pile.

Evie makes her bed. She's an expert folder.

Unfortunately, Evie is also a klutz. She tips over the bin of dog food.
Sasha - the trusty pup - looks on...

Let us pause in our busy morning to kiss some chubby baby piggs.

Moving on.

Britt squeezes his thunder thighs into the Bumbo to watch me make breakfast.

Breakfast is so not exciting this morning. Corn Flakes...that's it. No fresh fruit or fabulous pancakes. Cold cereal. Milk. Bam, welcome to the day.

I need some fruit. Starting a list...
Coffee. Need coffee.
Yes, you read that right, it's decaf.
But I still need it. Just the ritual of making and drinking coffee - caffeinated or not - makes me feel like I can be a person in the morning.

So, I make a cup of person hood, really. Not so much coffee.
(Dramatic enough for you?)
(Drinking decaf because my naturally strung-out baby really gets a terrible jolt from caffeine. If caffeine makes me a person, caffeinated milk turns him into a monster.)

After breakfast Evie whispers sweet nothings to Britt while I clean up the mess.
This girl should win the Best Big Sister prize.

Grumpy-Pants Baby goes down for his first nap around 9:00 and the big kids meander to the backyard.
(Meander: I shove them out the door and throw their shoes after them.)
Examining the progress on the pear tree.
And now it's time for my breakfast. Usually whole wheat toast with Nutella aka. Nectar of the gods. But alas! My Nutella is almost gone. Enough for one piece of toast...I'll add it to the grocery list.

Nutella toast + coffee = much better than corn flakes. Shhh...don't tell the kids. They're still checking the pear tree for worms.

Now I tiptoe quietly through my room where Sweet Baby is sleeping (Notice he's turned from Grumpy-Pants to Sweet Baby - this is what the sight of a sleeping baby does to a mother. Completely changes her attitude about him.) so I can prep for my day.

Here I am. I need a shower. I have no time for one. Yay.

What's a mama to do when she's got greasy hair and no time to shower? Pull out the baby powder. Slap a little on the roots, rub it in and you've soaked up the unsightly stuff. Fluffy, greaseless hair. Ready to go.(Note: Don't do this if you have dark hair. It will look really stupid. I'm blonde so it works.)

It's about 10:30 now. I pile the big kids into the car (Britt is fed and happy - home with my Brawny Man who took the day off..."yay" for days off!) and we head to the outdoor farm market.


I've been making more of an effort to buy locally. So here we are pulling our little red wagon instead of a shopping cart at the great big supermarket.

Cantaloupe, potatoes and sweet corn in the bag.

Here's where Evie starts complaining about needing to go potty. There is no potty. We're at a farm.

There's a big, blue free-standing port-a-potty. I cringe. She dances. We go.
Afterward, in my haste to squirt some hand sanitizer into her grimy hands, some gets in her eye. Her eye. Yes. And she screams. Bloody murder. And we run to the lady at the cash register and beg for water. We flush out her eye. She's fine.

I got no pictures of the scene because, well...that would be terrible. Can you imagine? Stopping to take a photo of my alcohol-in-the-eye daughter for my stupid blog. Ridiculous.

I did get a picture of afterward though:

See? It's tough having sanitizer in your eye.

We come home to this scene. Britt, in his walker for the first time ever, watching Little Bear. What?! What does he think he is? A 12 year old?

Hasn't Mr. B. heard about the perils of children under 2 watching television? That their brains will rot and they will have no chance of ever living a normal life if they watch tv this early? Ugh.
(He watched the whole episode and loved it.)

Noon. Lunchtime! And Britt goes down for his 2nd nap.

Left over chicken tacos for lunch. Probably leftovers are as bad for your stomach as tv is for your brain...

After all the piggies are down for naps, I go outside and decide to do something about my cilantro that has gone to seed in it's little hanging basket.
I replant it in the ground. Along with some of my other herbs that have out-grown their pots.
I end up tearing tons of weeds out of the garden - I've neglected it a bit...

By the end of this little assault on the weeds, no amount of baby powder will save me so I take a shower.

On a whim, since Mr. B. is home, we decide to go to the zoo.

(I am secretly relieved that he decides to get off his derriere and do something other than watch the blasted - cool - World Cup.)

Miss Evie gets a watermelon snow cone.

In the primate house, Britt literally sweats through his clothes, so he goes shirtless - like a cool guy should - for the rest of the day.

You'd sweat too if you had rolls like that.

On the way home from the zoo we stop so I can run into the store to get some things for dinner on the grill tonight.
Berries were on sale.

6:00 pm.
Britt takes the role of sous chef.

I cannot handle that he's in this walker! And his feet touch the ground!

Mr. B. brings in lettuce from our very own garden. I love this. We wash it and decide that it will grace our turkey burgers tonight.

Sweet corn: from the farmer's market this morning.
Lettuce: from our garden.
Tomatoes: from our garden.
My heart feels all warm and glowy.

6:30 pm.

After dinner it is bath time. After bath time it's baby massage time.

Oh Johnson's pink baby lotion. Oh. This stuff...heaven.

Time to read our story.

Currently: The Boxcar Children.
I remember this one from when I was younger. Nostalgia.

8:00 pm.
Britt's nighttime feeding and then down for bed.

Nursing is my favorite. Have I said that before? I think I have. But...nursing is my favorite.

Children's bed time is my second favorite. Because now I can sit and turn-off for awhile. I can watch Last Comic Standing with my husband and browse my favorite blogs; read a chapter or two of my current novel or Bible study...

...and then. Go. to. bed.

*Disclaimer: Okay, listen to me. I did a lot this day. The reason? Mr. B. was home. When he's home it's like I have a new lease on life. I am Super-domestic-Woman. Usually the man works from 8 am until 9 pm with a little break in the middle (during which I take a nap) and I am happy if I can get a load of laundry done and maybe run the vacuum cleaner. What I'm trying to say here is, this day is not typical. Come back for my Day in'll see how it really is.

You're doing this with me next month.
Yes, you are. :)

Monday, June 28, 2010

Hydrangeas and Tonka Trucks

Could I get a more perfect depiction of my life these days?

The beauty of a hydrangea bush nestled amongst the weeds alongside a Tonka truck loaded with mud.

That's life, folks. As Star-Crossed as it gets. Striving for picturesque beauty and thwarted at almost every turn. But it's okay...because even when perfection gets marred by real-life, it's still beautiful; even breathtaking at times.

This brings me to my little project I hinted at in an earlier post. I've been taking photos all morning. Of ordinary-ness. Nothing special. Just brushing teeth and pouring Corn Flakes and pouty kid's faces. I'm going to assemble them and post them all tomorrow for you to see.

A Day in June.

That's what I'll call this photo journal of a post.
The ins. The outs. The pretty and the Star-Crossed.

Here's the catch: When we come to the end of July, and it's time to post "A Day in July," you post your day in July too. If we get enough bloggers involved, we can have a good (not) old-fashioned blog hop.
I'm off to snap more pics of my day...

Sunday, June 27, 2010

Seven Years Ago

I did this...
and I'm so glad I did.

Saturday, June 26, 2010


I'm only 1/2 way through the first chapter. It's like the new chronicles of Little Women. Oh how I love those March/Alcott girls.

Ready to settle in for a good summer read...pass the iced tea, please.

Pardon Me.

I've been scrolling through this month of posts...boy, are they lame.
Apparently, my new format is three words + a photo and that makes a sufficient entry. Hm.

So, pardon me and my less than inspiring Star-Crossed. Hopefully I can return her to her original splendor (ha!) in the next month or so.

He sure doesn't seem to mind:

Could you just gobble him up? I do...multiple times a day.

In the next couple of weeks:

My seventh wedding anniversary.
Trips to the pool with the Three Little Piggies.
A fourth of July baby dedication.
Me, singing to my babies at that dedication.
A trip with my Brawny Man and my Little Man to the West Coast.

...that should give me sufficient blog fodder.

(I've got an idea for a new, monthly feature. I'm contemplating the involves audience participation. You'd better get your point-and-shoot all batteried up, it's gonna be a good one!)

Friday, June 25, 2010