But then a friend made a comment the other day:  “I miss your menu posts.”

What?  Someone reads this ol’ blog?  And they’re interested in what I have to say?  Like a neglected child who gets a glimmer of positive reinforcement, my inner blogger did a little twirl:  someone cares?!!  Then I should menu plan!  And post!  And after a life of family-visits, end-of-the-school-year-madness, surgery, recouping, rockin’-the-rec-at-VBS, trip-to-Kansas, soul-sucking-heat, I actually found time and space to plan out the munchies.

What cookbook are we planning from this time?  The Vegetarian Mother’s Cookbook.  Not that I’m a vegetarian intentionally.  It’s more that a) meat takes time to prepare, 2) wrongly prepared meat can cause death, iii) I’m lazy and would like not to kill off my family.  And, dairy and I are fast friends.  So I read vegetarian recipes:  plus, honestly, a lot of them are quick and easy and don’t deal with potential cross-contamination.

Sunday:  Breakfast at church before the outdoor worship (took store-purchased granola as my cereal offering – shocking for me not to bring a baked good – that’s how out of it I’ve been – and how non-stove-oriented – cause it’s hot – and we’re doing one-window-unit a/c – gotsta keeps the bebes cool!); Pb banana shake, sugar snap peas (from our CSA – love them!), whole wheat ritz with raw milk yogurt cheese; Whole wheat english muffin pizzas (with Trader Joe’s pizza sauce:  thanks for the recommendation, Ashlee!)

Monday:  Molasses toast, herby (CSA) scrambled eggs, cherries (CSA and our backyard); whole grain waffles, bananas, peanut butter; Veggie breakfast burrito, fruit salad

Tuesday:  Summer muesli, bananas; Tofu salad sandwich, chips, carrots, dried strawberries; Breakfast potatoes and veggies, scrambled eggs plus

Wednesday:  Almond butter orange sandwich; Bean quesadilla, chips, cherries; Scrambled tofu, almond pancakes w/homemade butter and homemade raspberry jam

Thursday:  Soaked apples’n'spice Bob’s Red Mill cereal, string cheese; Rice and beans casserole, chips, salsa, carrots; Tofu and udon noodles (known to the boys as peanut butter noodles, like the kind that beloved Miss Ashlee makes for her boys, cause tofu and udon is yuck, but who can say no to peanut butter noodles?!!), applesauce, snap peas

Friday:  Almond butter pancake sandwich, bananas; Curried rice salad, toasted cheese english muffins; Grilled chicken mango sausage, new potato and pea salad (Thanks, Mere!)

Saturday:  English muffin cheesecake, cherries; Black bean and sweet potato enchiladas, snap peas, homemade strawberry fruit leather; Potato kale quiche, fruit salad, garlic toast

It’s amazing to recognize the changes since I’ve last posted a menu.  I make a lot more stuff myself, or I get a lot more ingredients locally.   On Saturday a friend and I drove past the house I get eggs from which happens to be in the hills of Dundee.  My friend, who was driving, said, “So we turn around to get to your house?” to which I replied, “Oh no, there’s a back road.”  A back road that’s gravel with crazy amounts of small and large potholes, including a turn that drives you over really really loose gravel where it’s not so obvious where the tires of the car should or actually can go.  And yet their house is a mere few minutes away from my house which is firmly located in suburbia.  At times like that, after doing my weekly egg pickup, and as I hear my youngest littles babbling to hear their voices change as we bounce from pothole to pothole, I must admit: I really do love my life. 

JJ enters room, wearing a green long-sleeved shirt from the morning and shorts just a few shades bluer than the green shirt, close enough that the eyes naturally squint.  He’s holding a kleenex to his chin.

Mama:  “JJ, you’re wearing shorts.”

JJ:  “Yep.”

Mama:  “Why?”

JJ:  “Cause it was quiet time.”

Abe comes trundling in the room, wearing his swimming trunks and lacking a shirt, carrying a kleenex.

Mama:  “Abe, you’re wearing your swimming trunks.”

Abe:  “Mama, owie!  I gotta scratchie!”

Mama:  “You have a little scratch?”

Abe, trying to stand on one foot while holding the other up to show it off:  “SCRATCHIE!”

JJ:  “No, Mama, it’s a BIG scratch!”

Abe, smiling:  “I BLEEDING!!!”

JJ:  “He’s bleeding a lot!”

Abe:  “Yep!”  Puts both feet firmly on the floor and trundles off.

JJ’s kleenex was never explained.

And this darling face:

And this darling face:

And this darling face:

[I know, I know:  food shots of the boys, and a glamour shot of the girl?  Well, she's not so into that whole Eating Food Like Humans Do thing.  That is, until tonight when we figured she will not be *fed* but will feed herself.  Purees, shmurees:  smooshed bananas and homemade waffles for this little lady.  We'll see how she digs the French Peas tomorrow:  Mais, oui, Jean Claude, mais oui!].

I’m a lucky girl.

• buying milk from a local farmer
• making butter
• making yogurt
• in a food dehydrator
• reading about all the amazing things you can make in a food dehydrator
• the upcoming bounty of zucchini for this summer that I can turn into zucchini chips
• in my food dehydrator
• giving my husband a decent haircut
• a quart of raw, local honey
• reorganizing the toy closet
• pulling out the entertainment center and cleaning the nasty scary dusty muck that now has taken residence in my lungs
• seeing that the Star Wars Lego Dictionary will be coming to the library soon for my son
• and my son doesn’t know that I put a hold on the Star Wars Lego Dictionary, but boy howdy, will he be excited
• sock yarn
• mending the torn pages from the stack of accumulated books
• under-cabinetry kitchen lighting

Seriously.  How did I turn into a housemarm?

At least one thing on my excitement list was finishing reading my Civil War-era steampunk Seattle apocalypse/zombies book and beginning my upcoming selection of Abraham Lincoln:  Vampire Hunter.   Somehow I think these reads are bringing balance to my life …

All of them.

The *extended* versions.

Yes, he is that hard core.  Actually, it’s mostly that he’s friends with folks that are that hard core, and he likes to hang out with them.

A facebook event invite was sent out.  People rsvp’d.  The viewing local?  The social hall of the church (that’s what you get when the pastor is the event coordinator).  Sound and visuals taken care of by one of the church sound techs (something about upgrading projectors so it was blu-ray quality, even though the blu-ray editions won’t be released until April – duh).  Sound tech’s wife (our children’s pastor) set up the comfy chairs and padded pews for those with “sensitive” tooshies.  An area for non-chatters and an area for chatters designated.  My comment:  the only thing lacking was a person live-blogging the event.

Oh, and that other minor detail lacking:

CHILDCARE.

Today, I have been a Lord of the Rings widow, and I would like to say that I have triumphed!  It’s my first day feeding, dressing, shopping for, entertaining (thank you, Michelle, for hosting the widows – our own elven sanctuary), feeding, cleaning, napping, entertaining, feeding, cleaning, entertaining, bathing, feeding, reading to, cleaning, and putting to bed three tykes all by my lonesome.

It’s 9:43:  one tyke is is swaddled and snoring, the other two are “cuddling” under a sleeping bag (well, one has his midsection covered while the other has buried his head) on the top bunk bed.

I’d like to see a Melissa and Doug Responsibility Chart with all my duties, because they’re checked off, and I’d like my sticker now, pleaseandthankyou.

First, we wrap a Boo in a bunting from a GrandMom.  Yes, it’s big, but it’s pretty and fuzzy and red and from Nordstrom’s (I think).

Then we voyage outside:  yes, the bunting has ears.

Oooh, all pretty and white.  We watch as the professionals take to the field.

They survey the territory, assess the situation, take in all the details.

Cold.  Wet.  White.  Yep, it’s snow.

The girls hang by the sidelines, letting the experts get to work.

We make do with snow gear:  pockets are used to dethaw hands.

Time to get to work:  man making.  Small man of snow making, because the women-folk were inside whipping up something yummy and warm.

Watching the mama do her thing in the kitchen.

Pope Boo?

Whatchu giggling at, woman?

No more pictures, Mamarazzi!

When the Menfolk were done with their heavy lifting, they came in to defrost with some made-from-scratch hot cocoa (dude, the IKEA frother thingie is *awesome*).  Oh, and pjs, and later breakfast for dinner, cause that’s how we swing around here.

Making Giant Pancakes for dinner:  a logical choice to match the giant pancake snowflakes.

Some wondered where their hot cocoa goodness was:  all in good time, Little Miss, all in good time.

Some snow bunnies passed out during dinner time.  Literally.

The ferocious snow kitten monitored the situation from his command center.

And that, ladies and gentlemen, is how we deal with snow.

NOOOOO!!!  That time during the afternoon, about 2-4ish, is a time when I had not a lot more to give:  not kind words, not fun activities, not books to read, not coloring books to decorate.  It’s a time for me to rest:  be quiet:  pull myself together for the Second Shift until the kids get to bed.

JJ has not napped in I don’t know how long, and ever since he and Abe started sharing a room, neither sleeps.  They have to remain in their room until Quiet Time is over, but staying in their room seems to be interpreted differently.  Such as today:

This would be my room.

And you know what, I don’t even care what was going through their darling little brains, because they were out.  Simultaneously.  And I have yet to find the lotion in my night table, but hey:  something to look forward to, eh?

But then I saw the time:  8pm.

I know, I know:  not all that late.  But see, by 6pm, my goal for the day is to get to 8.  Because at 8, the children are contained in their room (in theory).  Eight o’clock, glorious eight o’clock, when I can have a non-interrupted conversation with my husband, or when I don’t have to have a conversation at all, because no one’s constantly asking me for screen time or a snack or why does Dad drive so much (which I asked him why he thought he did.  Answer: “Because he has to!”  Oh, yeah, that’s it).

So, how to get my children to have some of the normal American Christmas experience?  (which I don’t know if they really should, but enh).  Hulu to the rescue!

Funny thing, though:  they’ve shortened the show.  The not-even-a-half-hour-show has been cut down to 21 minutes.  Leaving in all the instances of saying “stupid” (a word we try not to use so much in the home).  With about 21 minutes of online commercials.  Really?  Really?!!

So then I suggested watching Rudolf.  Dude, that sucker is 54 minutes!  Give them some JJ-made chocolate covered sprinkled pretzels and string cheese, brush teeth, and throw them into their rooms!  Of course, as they were playing football in a box of a sleeping space an hour after we put them “into bed”, I commented, ‘Oh, did I forget to mention that they both took a nap today?’

Oops.

I’m sure this was only one year.  I can’t imagine that Mom bought me Bright Hideously Pink Corduroy Pants every year that I lived in her house.  But it was That Scarring.

When I was single, I did the ol’ “wear every item in the closet, perhaps a couple of times, before doing laundry”.  I scared a college roommate more than once by emerging from underneath a ginormous pile of laundry on my bed:  my slumbering self blended right in with the mammoth pile of fabric.

When I got married and even had my first born, I still did laundry only in dire circumstances.  I remember the highlight of my mom coming to visit is that I could actually fold laundry after I washed it:  novel idea!  And since I had a child who liked to decorate any surface with the meal he had just partaken of, laundry day meant washing EVERYTHING we owned.  Plus, we lived in a townhouse with on-area laundry machines that required quarters.  In this day and age of debit cards, who has change?!!  Quarters were a coveted commodity:  I’d go to real laundromats or car washes to get them with a harried look in my eye and dried-on-food somewhere on a garment I was wearing.

Now I do laundry on Mondays.  For a while I did a load whenever there was enough clothes to fill the washer, but then my mom commented on how interesting it was that all our white clothes were turning gray, and I thought, “Huh.  They’re not supposed to look that way?”

I actually read a book (yes, I am that much of a geek) teaching me how to do laundry.  It was FASCINATING.  The tags:  you know, those things that itch at your back and curl with repeated washings and are generally annoying?  They have information on them.  Information that actually *means* something.  And makes the clothes last longer and look better.  I had NO idea!  It was revolutionary, like when I watched my first episode of Alton Brown when he explained how when putting honey in a cake instead of sugar that you would reduce the liquid to account for the honey, and it just made sense:  you mean, there’s a reason behind it?  Same with laundry.

The laundry book said to do wash once a week so that enough clothes would pile up to do a full load of whatever washing conditions were required.  So I do.  I read tags, I sort, and I actually find it a bit more interesting.

Tonight, for the second time ever, I made my own laundry detergent.  I know the book wouldn’t agree (she said that laundry detergents were painstakingly researched for the best color-preservation/cleaning-action), but the sustainable side of me says “phooey”.  I figure the reading of the labels, the sorting, the doing laundry on Laundry Day, the not-walking-around-with-crusties-on-my-pants-having-not-washed-them-in-a-month should count for something, eh?

Sewing Circle Lady 3 – Hazel: Well that’s how life is, Lars.
Mrs. Gruner: Everything at once.
Sewing Circle Lady 2 – Sally: We brought casseroles.
Lars Lindstrom: Thank you.
Lars Lindstrom: [Lars looks around the sewing circle. The three ladies are knitting and doing needlepoint] Um, is there something I should be doing right now?
Mrs. Gruner: No, dear. You eat.
Sewing Circle Lady 2 – Sally: We came over to sit.
Sewing Circle Lady 3 – Hazel: That’s what people do when tragedy strikes.
Sewing Circle Lady 2 – Sally: They come over, and sit.

Someone commented on how that’s not done a lot anymore.  Maybe we should do more of that – just coming over, and sitting.