And we're off!

Hey, faithful blog readers (if there are any of you left!) Things have been a leetle crazy lately, what with Chet taking the bar, family vacation, moving out of our house, and planning a six-month road trip/farming adventure.

So for the next six months, come find me blogging over here. Hopefully we'll make it through the road trip and onto the farm ;)

5 years

About a month ago we celebrated our FIVE year anniversary. Sometimes that seems like so much time and sometimes it seems like nothing at all (most days I still feel like a newlywed) .

Five years is still five years, you know? But the time has passed so quickly.

I guess we must be having fun.

Time flies, am I right?

Anyway, thanks to some generous family and friends, we got to have a whole weekend to ourselves. One night here in town and then to a bed and breakfast at a winery nearby.

We relaxed. We rested. We enjoyed.

We used to be theoretical. We used to talk about our vision for our family and our hopes for the future. But this time we didn't.

We laughed.

Maybe what we needed back in the day was to plan and create a vision. Maybe what we need now is rest from that. Or maybe we are a little more realistic with ourselves three kids later.

Whatever the case, we are the Lord's. We are thankful for our five years and three kids and are hopeful for many more to come.

Smiles and hugs forever

You need to watch this. Repeatedly. (Or once. It'll have the same effect, i.e. once it's in your head, it will never leave.)

Goes without saying that it's the Number 1 Most Requested Song here in Hutchville.

(At least it's not annoying.)

I plank, you plank, we plank

After my sister showed Sharks some pictures of her planking, he wanted to try it.

First attempt:

Planking on the couch. Also known as lying on the couch. Little did I know I've been planking for years.

Next attempt:

Planking on a chair. Creative.

Third attempt:

By jove, I think he's got it.

They say silence is golden

This time, silence was an overturned aloe plant and a one-year old throwing dirt.

I'm dying over here

This five-year old girl wandered over to our yard to play yesterday and we got to talking.

I asked, So do you have any brothers or sisters?

Yeah. I have a brother, but he's really sick. Like, really, really sick. You know the kind of sick where you die? Umm, I can't remember what his sickness is called though...but I know that it makes you die.

(I'm thinking, cancer? And I was really sad. Because having a sick brother who is going to die has got to be tough.)

Then she says,

Oh! Yeah! I remember! It's called DIahrrea!

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Gold medal for my effort in keeping a straight face?

Finis

These law school years have felt like a really, really long pregnancy.

Growing, stretching, and discomfort.

Sleepless nights.

That sense of expectancy, the knowledge that there is a point to all of this pain.



So graduation was a pretty awesome night. We decided not to bring the kids because all we wanted was to be able to soak in the moment, and I wanted to yell really loud when Chet crossed that stage to get hooded.

(I was thisclose to yelling, "I WANT TO HAVE YOUR BABIES!" but I've already had his babies, so it seemed a moot point.)

You know when you have a baby, how you are more proud than you have ever been, and you just look at each other and say, "We did it, babe! We did it!!"

And you are amazed and humbled that the Lord brought you to that place?

Well, that's what it felt like.So very proud of this man.

By God's grace, WE DID IT, BABE!!!

The straw that broke the camel's back

I've got some big things to post about, like Chet's graduation (which was last week) and Chet's birthday (which was two months ago.) As you can see, I am on top of things as per usual.

But for today, I want to tell you about why I am never going grocery shopping again.

Ever.

And that is not an exaggeration.

Within the last six months we have successfully:

1. Knocked over a six pack of beer.
2. Knocked over a display of tomato sauce.
3. Dropped a glass bottle of iced tea.
4. Knocked over a full bag of groceries at the counter.

But today took the cake.

Maybe it's the Grocery Store's passive-agressive way of telling me to LEAVE AND NEVER COME BACK without actually saying it. Well, Grocery Store. Never let anyone tell you that being passive-agressive isn't a good way to express your feelings. Because it worked.

Like I said, NEVER going back.

We did our usual Grocery Shopping Configuration. Buckled Finn into the front of the cart. Plopped Deedo into the back. Sharks was walking.

There was that one time I let both Sharks and Deeds walk and that ended badly. So now the general idea is to keep as many kids contained as possible, and we (usually) manage alright.

I stopped to get some hotdogs for our camping trip and as I was deciding how many packages to get, there was this CRASH. A really loud one.

Followed by some screaming.

I turned around in a hurry to see a tangle of flailing legs and arms and the cart tipped over sideways on top of Sharks.

Much, much screaming.

I did not know it was possible for all of my children to hit their heads on the floor at the same time, barring a tornado or car accident or something.

(It's possible.)

Poor Finn was stuck, hanging there upside down. It's a good thing he was buckled, or he could have also been squished under the cart.

Deeds was the least injured and the loudest screamer. Go figure.

Sharks, unfortunately was trapped under the cart and ended up with the worst injuries (which were just big bruises on his shins and a bump on his forehead.)

It was one of those things where everyone is screaming and you don't know who to help first and you kind of want to lose it too and join in the screaming.

Thankfully they hire friendly people at Trader Joe's (I'll be honest - sometimes they are too friendly and a little creepy-like, but today I was thankful, even for the creepy-friendlies) so we were quickly assisted and given lollipops.

The funny thing is, we had just been at Target and the lady in line behind us mentioned how well behaved the boys were and how sweet they were.

(Pride comes before the fall, anyone?)

Somehow, she was standing right next to us at Trader Joe's when this happened and was the first to run over to help. She was kind enough to hold Finn while I tended to the other two. And she didn't make me feel any worse than I already did.

Anyway, the boys are all fine. Ultimately I think it was more dramatic than traumatic. I mean, it was a scene. People all over the store kept asking how the boys were doing, which was nice, but I still felt all adrenalined up and it was stressing me out. Even after a relatively normal trip to the store, by the time we make it back to the car, I usually feel like I am about to have a panic attack. This time I just wanted to cry.

So that's it, Grocery Store. We're through.

There's room on the bandwagon

This is what my sis-in-law was working on a week after her sweet son, Elijah was born.

Impressive, no?

Her video is sooooooo close to 20,000 views! Check it out and get her a few more.

Pretty please?

Cutest thing I've ever seen

Pretzels

We made these. After that terrible horrible no good very bad day. Totally worth it.

Seedlings

Radish seeds in empty strawberry boxes.

Here's hoping they grow.

Why I am not a fashion blogger

1) Throw up and/or poop don't count as accessories.

2) Waking up with my hair stuck to my face is not the same as gently tousled "messy" hair.

3) Just because the dark circles under my eyes match the purple in my shirt doesn't mean I coordinated my outfit.

4) My photographers are less than three feet tall. And no matter how hard we try, all we end up with is this:

Clean Food even if I don't have a Clean House

(photo)

I think I mentioned that I meal planned every meal for the whole month this month. For maybe the first time ever. Well, I have planned before. It's the follow-through that gets me every time. And I'm a little worried I'm not going to make it this time either.

You know how I go crazy over library cookbooks? This time it was this cookbook called Clean Food. I totally judged a book by it's cover. What can I say? It did look...clean. Everybody needs a little clean somewhere.

I'm going to go ahead and blame Clean Food for my meal plan attempt because everything looked fantastic and fresh, and since the book is split seasonally, I was dying to make a bunch of the Spring recipes. (Even if the weather still thinks it's Winter, at least our bellies will think it's Spring. Take that, rain.)

I picked out a ton of recipes from Clean Food for our meal plan because they were all sounding amazing. They reminded me of the stuff I would make when we were part of a CSA and got a bunch of weird veggies every week. That kind of cooking really gets me excited.

Somewhere round about the Cashew Cream and the Flax Egg (say what?) I got to thinking that there was something strange about this here cookbook.

Oh, and where'd all the meat go?

Turns out, Clean Food means Vegan Food. (Is this something everyone else already knows and I am just late to the game?)

So the other day I whipped out my meal plan. I had been avoiding it since I had no groceries, but after (finally) successfully making it to the grocery store, it was time to get down to business. It had been another one of those days, and I was hoping the Meal Plan said that bacon and eggs with lots of cheese was for dinner.

But...it seems that I was delirious when I planned those meals.

Sweet Potato, Corn, and Kale Chowder?
Swiss Chard with Roasted Golden Beets?

The Black Bean Burgers with Pineapple Guacamole we ate last night really was delicious. And I love a good beet. Truly, all the food does (still) sound wonderful.

But when dinner time rolls around and you are starving and the little people are screaming and you have been chopping this veggie and that veggie and then you plop a mound of greens on the table...oh, the silence.

I mean the kids do not care that the beets are special, non-purple beets. Or that the greens (swiss chard) we had last night are totally different from the greens (kale) we are having tonight.

They are all, Where is our dinner, mama? This looks like weeds.

Inside Out

"Do you see it, Mom? Do you?"

"I wrote your NAME!!"

To laugh or to cry, that is the question

Long day yesterday. In the morning, we tried to go grocery shopping but ended up leaving with no groceries because of tantrums from both older two. Later that afternoon, there was a point when I was stuck in rush-hour traffic, all three kids screaming and hungry, when I thought, It can't get much worse than this.

Then Deeds threw up his dinner all over the table. (Yes. Yes, it can get worse.) For awhile we all just sat there in stunned silence.

Note to self: it takes throw up to calm everyone down?

But after that he was totally fine. That seemed like the end of it.

We had been planning another assault on the grocery store this morning, seeing as we had nothing in the house (which is ironic since I actually took the time to plan every meal for the whole month.) I guess meal plans don't work if you don't have food. Rookie mistake.

But then, Sharks threw up his breakfast.

So we gave up the Big Grocery Trip and determined a quick trip for the basics was in order.

I should mention that I was wearing a button down dress shirt of Chet's, you know like in the movies? How a lady will wear her man's shirt and look all sexy?

Well, since we're being honest here, you should know that my wearing of his shirt is not an attempt at hotness, but more of a testiment to how long it's been since I've done laundry. We were cracking up about it this morning because it was not cute at all, just big and hideous...oh, I think part of the problem was that I was wearing pants.

Note to self: sexy shirt thing only works WITHOUT pants (and I'm guessing without throw up on it? Jury's still out on that one though.)

Since we determined that a) we had no groceries, and b) I looked like a frump-monster, it was clearly my job to hit up the store.

After I made it back to the car with the groceries, I looked down and realized that the middle button on my shirt was completely and utterly unbuttoned.

Fantastic.

I probably shouldn't say this, but it can't possibly get any worse than this.

There will be mud

"He was covered in mud, like a...umm...like a brown dog!!"
~Sharks

Sweet Sixteen

In our house, The Wiggles is contraband. Chet figures that there is better shows for the boys to watch, and let's face it - The Wiggles aren't exactly manly.

Yesterday though, Sharks asked if he could take a Wiggles dvd on an upcoming road trip. Chet said no.

Of course Sharks tried to go all lawyer on us:
Mom! I have an idea. Maybe when Pops is at school we can watch The Wiggles!

(I tried my best to nip that in the bud - and explained that even when Pops isn't here we still remember and obey his words. I think he understood because he didn't ask about it anymore that night.)

The next morning at breakfast though, Sharks started chucking to himself and said,

Mom! I thought of something really silly. What if Pops died, and the rest of us were still alive - then could we watch The Wiggles?

(Sharks almost got his wish because Chet and I both just about died of laughter right there in the kitchen.)

After we recovered, Chet told Sharks that when he turns sixteen he can decide for himself whether or not to watch The Wiggles.

So my son is looking forward to being sixteen not because he'll be able to drive, but because it means the freedom to choose...to watch The Wiggles.

And I for one cannot wait for the day when I get to remind him of this moment.

You talk weird

My husband has many gifts but one of them is not doing fake accents. Actually every time he tries I tell him he sounds like a constipated, drunk Irishman whether he's doing an Irish accent or not (you might think that means it sounds legit - but in this case not so much.)

Let me think for a sec about how to describe this to you in all it's glory. Ummm...ok. Here goes. He sounds like he was terribly constipated, then got drunk to forget about the constipation, except he got so drunk he forgot where he was from or what language he was speaking and yet somehow what comes out of his mouth still sounds constipated, with a twist of gibberish - there's his fake accent in a nutshell.

Lest you think I am being mean to the hubs, let me just say that few things in life bring me as much joy as his Irish accent.

-----

Most of you peeps know that I spent my junior high and high school years in Scotland. I came back with a funky accent, a sort of American-Edinburgh hybrid. My first week back here I overheard some girls talking about me and they were like, "Why does she sound so weird?" Awesome. Every high school girl wants to be told they sound weird.

Like most teenagers, I wanted to be like everyone else and tried my best to get rid of my accent as soon as possible. (Boo to my high school self.) So now, though accent-less myself, I love listening to other people talk.

Which is how Chet and I ended up watching Celtic Thunder infomercials last night (him for tips, me for enjoyment.) So many levels of embarrassing right there that you will only comprehend if you have seen Celtic Thunder yourself. I guarantee that no matter what you watched yesterday, it was less embarrassing than that.

Anyway. Fast forward hours later and we were getting ready for bed when out of the blue Chet bursts into song and sings, "Damn Birdie Show!"

If you are wondering, What's a birdie show and what is so awful about it? then you are thinking the same thing I was.

Turns out he was actually singing, "Down by the shore." Apparently that's a line from a Celtic Thunder song.

Somehow he is convinced that my miscomprehension of what he said means that his accent is good.

Fur pillows are hard to actually sleep on

If you haven't seen this, (originally found here) you should. Josh Groban mocks quite effortlessly, but let's be honest. Kanye was kinda asking for it.

For the record, I would be totally ok with Josh (first name basis, why not?) singing my facebook statuses. I'd particularly like to hear his rendition of: "Still puzzled over how Deeds actually managed to swallow a foot-and-a-half of dental floss..."

Yes. That really did happen. Yes, (sigh) I really did give him dental floss. Now that I think about it, it doesn't seem all that intelligent. But at the time...

I really did not think he would EAT it. That never even crossed my mind. He came to me all proud and said,

MOMMY! I ate it!

You ate what?

The floss!

No, really. (dumbfounded. completely.) Where did you put the floss?

In here! (opens mouth. points inside.)

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That's going to be a treat on the flip side, ifyouknowwhatimean.

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I was going to try to wiggle that fur pillows comment into something on this post, but all that jumps out at me is the (bad) grammar.

Split infinitive, ending with a preposition (apparently Winston Churchill disagrees and I like Churchill so I may have to rethink my position on this). I realize that it was a tweet, but something about hearing it Josh Groban-style raises expectations, you know?

However, fur pillows now sound quite intriguing.