I hate daylight savings time

I've always hated changing the time. After watching this, I hate daylight savings time even more.

Sheep Thoughts

"To be nobody but yourself in a world that's doing its best to make you somebody else, is to fight the hardest battle you are ever going to fight. Never stop fighting."

- e. e. cummings

My philosophy of trying new stuff

"Try a thing you haven't done three times. Once, to get over the fear of doing it. Twice, to learn how to do it. And a third time, to figure out whether you like it or not."

- Virgil Garnett Thomson

Have I ever told you my rule of 15 when trying new foods? It takes as many as 15 times eating a new food to see if you like it. If you've tried it that many different times and still don't like the taste, you probably really don't like it. This is especially useful to remember when trying new foods with children. It helps you get through the annoyance of having sweet potatoes spit in your face for the ninth time.

Justification

Sometimes, I think my husband wonders if I'll ever be like "normal" people. The answer is probably not. I am who I am and that person is a little crazy and definitely different. Despite a love of wool, I'm not a sheep and I'm going to continue doing what I want to do. I think too many people get caught up worrying about everyone else. They lose their joy, their ability to understand the simplest things in life. They're too caught up in being "une grande personne." I hope I never become that way. How sad it would be.

"We don't stop playing because we grow old; we grow old because we stop playing."- George Bernard Shaw

The day after

If I put on my wings the day after Halloween and look cute, do I get more candy?

I was thinking of you Bridgette

Remember Pride and Prejudice and Zombies?

This is better.

Lessons I've Learned Recently

1. I have a lot of stuff.
2. I don't use most of that stuff on a daily basis.
3. Despite the fact that I don't use all of my stuff regularly, I have a strong emotional attachment to it and can't get rid of much of it.
4. Lots of stuff is heavy.
5. I hate moving.
6. I love a short drive to work.
7. More sleep is good.
8. The living room is the most important room in the house for me. Once it was arranged and de-cluttered, I lost my will to keep unpacking.
9. The loss of unpacking mojo may have been linked to exhaustion.
10. A labyrinth of boxes makes a house seem like a playground.
11. Children value different things than grown-ups. What I thought was important to my girls wasn't what they thought was important. I've learned a lot about my girls in the last two weeks.
12. The most important thing we have is each other.
13. I never want to commute more than 15 minutes again in my whole life. I didn't realize how tired I was until it was over.
14. Full speed is not a natural speed for me.
15. I need to practice being more grateful and less annoyed when people are trying to help me and I don't agree with how they're doing things.
16. I'm not like other people and I shouldn't expect them to understand me. If it hasn't happened by this point in my life, it's probably not going to.
17. Never, ever stand within 35 feet of a large chain pulling huge, overgrown bushes out of the ground via a truck.
18. I need to do the things that make me feel happy and not the things that others think are the most important.
19. Flowers in the pots outside my front door are a priority for me even if others think I should unpack kitchen boxes.
20. People who are going full speed rarely listen to directions if they think they know more than you.
21. Frustration is easy to hide if you're exhausted.
22. Love manifests itself in different ways. How people show love is as different as the people themselves.
23. A house without t.v. really is as blissful as I'd imagined it would be. Bliss ends today between 1 and 4 when Optilink comes.
24. Life is short. Time is fleeting and I'm another year older. Happy (belated) Birthday to me! It was a miserable day. I should have known better than to do something else significant close to my birthday. I made the same mistake 8 years ago when I got married.
25. Happy (one day late) Anniversary to me (and Chris)! I got him a house. He got me a card but he's helping to pay for the house too so I'll let that slide.

I'll be back soon. With Optilink, we'll have Internet too. I do like that. It would help motivate me if I didn't feel like I was talking to myself here. A note every now and then wouldn't be remiss.

The packing chronicles, part 1

Okay, I knew I had a lot of stuff, but it's surreal just how much stuff is in my house. If I didn't recognize it all, I'd probably look around and think, "Where did all of this come from?" I can't do that though. I remember it all-- the curse of a good memory. Sunday afternoon, I was working in the basement and it was like a trip down the craft aisle of memory lane. I found all the cloth I bought to make a "rustic" angel tree topper for the basement Christmas tree in one bag. (The angel wasn't made due to the lack of a yarn cone to serve as the base. Happily, I found one of those the other day while packing! Now, if I can just find it again...) I found a huge stack of fabric that I spent months collecting for a quilt for my own bed. (I am undaunted by the scope of a project. It's a failing of mine. In my mind, I know I should have hesitated when I decided that I could make a king sized quilt after having only made doll quilts but it never occurred to me that it might be too big of a project to tackle.) I found a stack of clothes in need of mending. Sadly, they won't be mended for the child who tore them but for the next in line. I guess that's a hidden benefit of having children every two years and then burying the mending pile for two years. Convenient, yes?

I feel like I have a constant clock ticking on the packing. It resonates in my very soul. Tick...tick...tick...tick...I feel the passage of time keenly but I can't seem to find the motivation to pack like a maniac. I usually find the motivation in a desperate push at the end, but this situation is different. I'm scared and I'm in trouble. I don't know which is worse...

I guess actually packing something would probably help. On that note, BYE!

Quote of the Day

I know that quotes aren't the best way to maintain a blog, but I'm a little busy and I'm sure you are too. This quote is funny at least.

"If you put the federal government in charge of the Sahara Desert, in five years there'd be a shortage of sand."
- Milton Friedman

Quote of the Day

"You must be the change you wish to see in the world."
- Gandhi

Am I a bad mother if...

...my kindergartner hides under the table just so she can take a nap?

We live in a cruel society now that doesn't allow 5 year old children to rest during a 7 1/2 hour school day. A is not adjusting well to no naps. It's a challenge I wish we weren't facing.

And so it begins...

Boxes packed: 10
Boxes still to be packed: more than I care to think about

How do you eat an elephant? One bite at a time.
How do I pack up my house? One box at a time.

Hmm...

I've been busy. I also think I might be crazy. Two mortgages? What are we thinking? I guess we're thinking that it will be nice to not be commuters anymore. I guess that we're thinking our children will enjoy a fifteen minute drive home instead of fifty. I guess we're thinking that some sacrifice is worth it to get rid of a few burdens. I guess we're just flowing with it knowing that it feels like the right thing to do. It's hard though.

The thought of packing is starting the give me bad dreams at night. The worst part is the reality of it. During the summer, packing was completely hypothetical. If I didn't do it (and I didn't by the way), it didn't matter. Now, there's a date and that means I'm in trouble. Our loan officer is aiming for September 30. What!!!! I'm a fierce pack rat with an emotional bond to my stuff. I have a lot of it. What am I going to do? I'm in so much trouble! I can't even begin to adequately describe the daunting nature of the task that lies before me. As always, when confronted by a task such as this, I freeze. I don't even know how to get started. If I had the entire month of September, I might be able to pull it off without stress, but I don't have to whole month because I have a life that includes a 90 mile commute, three children with activities, a husband, and no food from restaurants because we're trying to save money. What am I going to do? HHHHEEEEELLLLPPPPPPPP!

Finally...I hope

We verbally accepted a counteroffer on a house in Dalton yesterday. I started to feel a little excited late last night when I was searching the Internet for rugs. Somehow, that's become a priority. The house needs the floors cleaned and new paint on the walls, but otherwise, it's in move-in condition. The floors are hardwood or laminate throughout and A is hung up on the hard floors and how she'll get hurt if she falls out of bed and how much she loves carpet. That's why we need a rug. Several would be nice but money will be tight when we start paying two mortgages so the only rug that has to be bought is one for A and L's room.

I'm giving up a few things that I love having at this house like a mantle (where will I put our Christmas stockings!?!) and a separate dining room, but I'm trading it for enough space for my family to live, places to put all our things, and a drive to work that's 10 minutes instead of 50. I'm also getting a craft room. The basement has several finished rooms that could be bedrooms but we'd rather everyone sleep together upstairs so we'll sleep in three bedrooms just like we do here and use the extra rooms downstairs for things we've only dreamed about here. There's a large room that will be the "family" room but mostly, it will be the play room. There's a separate room with a closet that will be the office to hide the messy filing cabinet/bookcase, desk, computer and laundry hanger, I mean treadmill. In the bedroom off the hall, I'll have my craft room. I'd never really thought about the fact that I could have a separate room all my own until my husband offered this morning to build shelves in the closet for all my supplies. That's when it hit me. This house will be ours. I've been hoping in my heart for almost a month but I was too afraid to actually plan what each room might be. This is the fourth house that we thought might be right but it's the first one that's truly felt right.

As my husband and I lay in bed talking this morning, I realized why. It has what we need. There's another finished room that's separated from the rest of the basement by an unfinished part. That room has a door to the outside so even though it has nice floors and finished walls, it will belong to my husband along with all of the unfinished space. He'll finally have room for his tools to all live in one space. It's a lot of room but it will be full by the time we move in all the tools he's acquired. I hope it's enough because it's all he's getting. Of course, it's twice the space he has here and it won't force him to park in the driveway so that his tools have a place. Even better, it's under the kitchen/dining area not the bedrooms. He likes to work on projects at night after the girls go to sleep but he's not really able to do that here because the crowded garage at this house is directly under their bedrooms and he makes too much noise.

Even as I write this post, I feel like crying. We've waited so long for something to work out. My husband started working in Dalton almost three years ago. For three years, we've driven 90 miles a day. Our family has aged. Our girls have started having things to do like dance class and swimming lessons. We had another baby in that time. With each passing year, it became harder and harder. I've never admitted it out loud, but I've felt like there were times I was about to break but I couldn't because what good would it do? Even now, I know this move won't make everything perfect. The girls will still fuss with each other. A will still be hard to wake up in the morning even if she gets to sleep an extra 45 minutes. Money will be a bigger issue than it's ever been. We'll have new challenges and problems to face, but, in my heart, I know this is the right decision and I have faith that it will work out. And the cherry on top? I realized this morning that I get a craft room. That was always a room in the dream house I've been building in my head. This isn't my dream house. It doesn't have a library. However, when I look at this house, I know that we can make it our home. I know that we can be happy and raise our children there. When I look at it, I see the possibilities it holds. I see hopes and dreams waiting to be hoped and dreamed. I see my family's future.

(I'm crying for real now.) To all my former students that I love who are reading this: I'll invite you over when it's ready. I'd love to be able to finally share my life with you when we share a hometown. I'll make dessert :) It will involve chocolate.

Reflections on Letting Go

I've had to let go a lot lately.

On August 10th, I had to let go of my baby and let her grow up to be a kindergartner. In a blink, she went from being my tiny little girl to a beautiful little lady. Her new backpack made it even worse. It's a junior backpack so it fits her just right. She looks so big with it on. If it hung down and knocked against her legs as she walked, I could pretend in my mind that she was too young to be in school but it doesn't and I can't so I had to let go. I love you sweet girl.

I had to let go of my hold on what I think my classroom should be. It's too much this year. There are too many students and not enough time. I'm having to go through lists and mark who I think shouldn't be in there. Do you know how hard that is for me? They're mine. Many of you have been with me. You understand. When you come in my room, you're mine. Giving up students feels like betrayal. I felt so depressed today that it was all I could do to keep going. Thank goodness for chocolate. I wanted to keep them all but I couldn't so I'm letting go but I miss them already.

Fourteen years ago this month, I started college. I remember moving my things into my room. I remember meeting my roommates for the first time. I remember feeling so lost and alone. I was letting go of who I had been and starting on the journey to become who I am. I sometimes wish that I'd enjoyed that journey more. I wish that I hadn't held on so tightly to the past. I wish I'd embraced the change that was swirling around me. I wish I'd enjoyed the ride just a little bit more. I wish that my loved ones had been happier for me, but I remember the feeling of knowing how proud they were of me. I'm proud of you, Jeffrey but I'll miss you. You're the son I might never have. Enjoy the ride you've just started but don't feel guilty if the past begins to slip away. It will happen to a greater or lesser degree. Embrace your new life. Don't regret the things beyond your control. Just let go.

Time passes. Things change. Life moves on. I need to let go. Resistance only makes it hurt more and I hurt enough as it is.

Little Strawberry

The look on her face seems to say, "Why did you do this to me?"

Does it help to know that she put the hat on herself?

Strange but oddly appealing

An Ode to Summer

An Ode to Summer

written by Mme Hester (as she contemplates the coming year)

Summer,

Why hast thou forsaken me?

Is it because I do not worship the sun

And the (not so) great outdoors?

Is it because I spent your season crocheting the doily that would never end?

Is it because you know that you are not my favorite season?

It is not my fault that July makes me want to cry with its’ hot weather

And that the very thought of going outside

Makes me feel despair deep down in my heart.

It is not my fault that you are filled with endless, unfinished lists

Of things I will never do.

I looked upon you with such hope

When June was but a young child.

Where has your promise of hope gone?

Where have you hidden away your joys?

I feel the creeping gray inching its’ way into my soul.

The loss of freedom is palpable in the air.

Summer, oh summer!

Why hast thou forsaken me to face the first day of school?

Ice Cream Sundae

Where'd my spoon go?

How am I supposed to eat my ice cream?

Oh, well!

Forget the spoon!

I don't really know how to use it anyway! 

Mmm... yummy bite bites.

I love ice cream.

Snapshots from my life

Life is busy right now. Of course, I have three children which has a lot to do with that. There are other reasons too. To let you into my life, I present snapshots of my life right now. Literally. I just took these pictures.

A sink full of dishes. They seemed to appear out of nowhere. We washed the dishes when we got back from our trip and then, the sink was full the next time I looked. What!

I hate doing laundry. One of the worst things about taking a trip is the pile of dirty laundry when you get home. It's just depressing.

This is M eating her first Little Debbie Fudge Round. It's also a picture of her eating her last Fudge Round for a really long time. There were crumbs everywhere. I have enough to do without adding to the mess with my stupid lunch choices.

Messy children's room exhibit A.

Messy child's room exhibit B. Sadly, these two rooms were both clean two hours ago. They're already worse than these pictures show. My children work fast.

My mother-in-law is having a 60th birthday party next weekend. I'm in charge of chicken, plates, forks, napkins, cups, lemonade, and framing an invitation among a few other little details. This is one of the few tasks I don't actually mind. My mother-in-law is a nice lady and I like to plan parties.

This is an irrelevant picture but doesn't this hot pink Strawberry Shortcake wig just look freaky?

As a present for my mother-in-law, we're having a whole family portrait made. The granddaughters are all wearing coordinating dresses and hair bows made by me and my sister-in-law. I've got a few details to finish up along with the rest of the hair bows and M's top. I should probably get on that with a bit more enthusiasm since the appointment for the portrait is Saturday morning.

So, that's a bit of my life at this moment, but only the clean, easy to photograph parts. It's really much worse than this shows when you add in the house hunt ordeal, the quickly approaching start of school and a few other sordid pieces that I don't care to share via the Internet. Thank goodness for chocolate to help me through these troublesome times. I've also memorized the Serenity Prayer and find myself saying it quite often throughout the day. Now, off I go to attack the summit of Mt. Washmore and make some hair bows.

Optimism has a place in this world

"People are often unreasonable and self-centered. Forgive them anyway. If you are kind, people may accuse you of ulterior motives. Be kind anyway. If you are honest, people may cheat you. Be honest anyway. If you find happiness, people may be jealous. Be happy anyway. The good you do today may be forgotten tomorrow. Do good anyway. Give the world the best you have and it may never be enough. Give your best anyway. For you see, in the end, it is between you and God. It was never between you and them anyway."

- Mother Teresa

Lessons I'm learning...

I've often said that a day you learn something is a day not wasted. If that's the case, I'm not wasting my life lately. Here's a summary of what I'm "learning":

1. If patience is a virtue, my children are helping me to be the most virtuous woman on the planet this summer. Lunch time is especially educational for me.

2. Just because someone says you can buy their house doesn't mean the actually get to buy their house even though everybody signed the contract. There are forces at work in the real estate market that are beyond my comprehension. That's okay though. We decided we don't want to buy their house anyway (signed the notice of termination an hour ago-- just waiting on them to sign it) and we really don't like their real estate agent (we figure he'll make the termination difficult and pitch a fit like the arrogant, self-absorbed person he is). He's been extremely rude and condescending to our real estate agent. I like pretty much everybody, but I don't like him. That says something very bad about him. I almost relish the thought of him trying something to cause problems with the termination. If I can handle 35 freshmen in a room or an overbearing coach, I can most certainly handle him with no problem. Bring it on. He has no idea who he's dealing with if he decides to mess with me.

3. Renaissance women are cooler than renaissance men. Here's an example: My real estate agent is a woman of many talents. Her coolest is not that she's working so hard to find us a new home. It's that she makes soap and it's the most amazing soap ever. She has many other talents as well. I'm totally addicted to the soap she calls "Beach Baby." Who would have thought I'd like a soap called "Beach Baby"?

4. When we open our eyes to possibilities and stop getting hung up on what we think in our heads, life goes much smoother.

5. This flow chart sums up so much. I'm going to print it out and put copies in places where I'll see them frequently.

(found by me on http://www.rootsimple.com/ but originally from  Mark Frauenfelder of BoingBoing)

Now, I'm off for a not so relaxing little vacation. Taking three small children somewhere is never really relaxing. It's easier to stay at home. I'm sending them to Mim's house tomorrow just so I can pack. It's all good though because I'm not going to worry :)

Too Funny

I'm sorry. This may be inappropriate but I just had to share...

Via Piccsy

Movie Monday

You're aware that I don't like television much and that movies aren't really my thing. I prefer books. Books are like movies you control inside your head. Much better than someone else's idea of how things should be.

I've been trying to limit my children's exposure to television this summer and feel pretty good about our progress. However, I'm not completely heartless. They like to watch things. My solution has been books made into videos and movie Monday. Books on video is pretty self-explanatory concept. Movie Monday means that if they were good, we've watched a movie every Monday. It hasn't always gone smoothly. Generally, someone is unhappy about the choice or I find myself bored out of my mind, but overall, it's gone well.

A and L both agreed on last Monday's movie choice though. It was a miracle. My husband was hesitant but then I pointed out the very short length of the "movie" and we both agreed it was a good choice because we were running late. I had no problems with the actual "movie." Why? Because both of my daughters got terribly excited and wanted to watch "How the Grinch Stole Christmas." It was the original cartoon version which I love and, well, it was Christmas and you know how I feel about that. It warms my heart to know that I'm spreading the joy of year round Christmas planning to my children. Monday's movie choice wasn't just a miracle. It was a Christmas miracle.

Long live Christmas in July! And in every other month!

The Pirate Series Part 1 or How to Build a Pirate Ship

My husband, L, and M got lost in Lowes one Saturday. A and myself were simultaneously getting lost in Hobby Lobby. To each his or her own! While in Lowes, they found little kits to build stuff and ended up with two wooden pirate ship kits for A and L.

One afternoon, they finally found time to put them together. Note that all girls were wearing dresses during the construction process. Me too but I'm behind the camera. Of course, you could have guessed I was wearing a dress. I'm me!

Note the intent looks of concentration and my husband's snazzy French Club t-shirt. Concentration is important when small children are hammering close to your fingers.

 The wood was surprisingly hard even though the holes were pre-drilled. My husband eventually ended up getting his drill to drill the holes better. The drill bits are still on the table. I wish they weren't. Hint, hint, my darling husband.

M couldn't help build the ships but she could certainly sit in her chair and offer screams of encouragement while gnawing on a plastic hammer. It made her feel like she was a part of the action.

The Beaver

My husband's grandparents are elderly and all of them are still alive. That's a strange thing for me because most of mine are not. He's blessed in ways he doesn't even understand. It's like the line from the Joni Mitchell song, "You don't know what you've got till it's gone..." I know what I had because it's mostly gone.

That being said, his grandparents are not in perfect health and memory issues are starting to become a problem. Last April, we had an egg hunt with one side of his family and his grandparents (the oldest, least healthy set) decided to go shopping for all their great-grandchildren. There was an odd assortment of balloons, 14 foot long jump ropes, cheap Easter baskets, and stuffed animals. Stuffed animals are fairly common around Easter but the grandparents had apparently wandered off the Easter aisle at some point during their shopping excursion and found animal toys that they mistook for stuffed animals for children. I realized it quickly when a few of the adults were assigned the task of distributing the bags of randomness. So, my children ended up with two pet toys. I'm ashamed to admit that I don't know the exact location of the strange squeaking black and white skunk-like blanket toy M was given, but I believe it may still be in the trunk of my car. My other girls ended up with a beaver that also squeaks when pressed on the stomach. This is the beaver toy.

As strange as this may be, the toy actually helps with a game L made up a few weeks before receiving the beaver. She calls the game "Beaver Dam." It involves her and sometimes A hiding in a corner or tight spot, barricading themselves in, and periodically yelling, "I see a beaver. Hide!" or something along those lines.

Well, what do you know? The beaver doesn't have to be imaginary anymore and he squeaks! In a pinch, he also wears a doll dress and gets to play with the other dolls in their room. What could have been a sad, chewed upon life in a dog's mouth has turned into a warm, cozy life as a beloved toy. Weird how things work out sometimes, isn't it?

Where I've Been a.k.a. Why Madame Hester is (a little bit) Crazy and (very) Tired

I disappeared for a while, but I have a great excuse. Well, it's more like excuses. Anyway, here we go. You know that I hate to clean. You know that I love to cook. You know that I have three children. When you combine all those things, you get the predicament I was in last week and a bit the week before that.


I've talked a little about my spirituality but not my church. I won't give a ton of details or try to justify anything because chances are good that it wouldn't make any sense to you. Suffice to say, between July 9 and July 17, I went to church sixteen times. With three children. And a husband who didn't sit with us all the time. The wee-est (I think I made up a word!) of my children is very wiggly and very loud. We took away her pacifier during all waking hours on July 8. Whose dumb idea was that? Oh, wait. It was mine. Bad move on my part. I caved a little as the week progressed and gave her the pacifier when she got way, way, way too loud. She wasn't bad, just loud. And she sings! But it's really more like screaming. Where I go to church, services last as long as they last. That could be an hour and a half or more. Not knowing when it will end makes one lose heart a little bit when the screaming, I mean singing, gets too loud. The end is never in sight at times like that.


In addition to the marathon number of church services which occurred morning and evening, there was lots of going to eat lunch with people from church, sometimes at houses and sometimes at restaurants. We feel that it brings the church closer together when we spend time fellowshipping together outside of church. We don't have Sunday school or youth group or anything like that so this is it. Of course, you can probably guess that one of the houses was mine.


Now, on one level, that's not a bad thing for me. I love to cook and (modestly lowering her head) I'm really good at it. I'm also fabulous at planning meals that are balanced in nutrition, color, content, and required refrigerator space while being mindful of the fact that everything has to be ready three hours before mealtime but still taste good when it's time to eat. I'm a pro. The problem is my house. It's never clean. 3 children + hatred of cleaning = perpetually messy house. I half-heartedly started cleaning the week before revival but I didn't get anywhere significant on the road to a clean house. My husband and I also became minorly obsessed with the idea of packing, not actual packing mind you, just the idea of packing. That's another post for another day though. Suffice to say, it distracted us.


So, the actual cleaning didn't start until Saturday, July 9. People were coming to my house on Thursday, July 14. For normal people, that would have been plenty of time to clean and prepare food for an unknown number of people. I'm not normal people. My husband is a real trooper though. We're in this together, 100 %. I came up with the idea of working on cleaning and prep work for 30 minutes to 1 hour at three key times of the day, morning, afternoon, and after we got back from church in the evening. I also created a food prep schedule that would help me to get it all done at the appropriate time.


We did surprisingly well. I didn't feel a hint of despair until Wednesday afternoon around 3 o'clock. My mother-in-law had my girls so that what we cleaned stayed clean. I was in the kitchen cooking up a storm and my husband was cleaning. We had been working the previous days according to my plan and some progress was evident. Then, I looked at the clock and saw what time it was. I went in search of my husband and found him in our bathroom scrubbing the floor with a toothbrush. There was still so much to be done and he was scrubbing the floor with a toothbrush! Chances weren't even good that anyone would go into our bathroom. It needed to be sort of clean and presentable but not spotless. Inside, I freaked out. Outside, I remained calm, gave my husband some advice and went to make brownies.


We stayed up late that night, got up early the next day, and pulled it off. If you ignore the basement where we just closed the doors, our house was cleaner than it has been in a really long time. It made me feel so happy that I wanted to cry. It's over now and everything's slowly falling into disrepair even though we've straightened and cleaned a bit here and there since Thursday. I'm going to make a good 30 minute effort this evening to regain some control. We'll see how that goes. Perhaps I can make everyone help and it will go well.


The menu for the day was super simple, not my normal labor intensive insanity. I made:
-boeuf bourguignon (in the crock pot without the red wine 'cause it was the church crowd (including four preachers) and that would have been weird)
-buttered egg noodles (to go with the boeuf bourguignon)
-pizza style pasta salad (my own recipe and my newest favorite pasta salad-- I could eat it every day and I have since Thursday because I made way too much!)
-salad bar (lettuce, carrots, cucumbers, tomatoes even though I dislike them because I'm the hostess with most-est, bacon bits, feta cheese, croutons, etc.)
-sandwich bar (good bread--Italian and wheat, turkey, ham, chicken, swiss, cheddar, provolone, condiments including pickles because little Miss L loves pickles, etc.)
-fresh fruit (strawberries, blueberries, and grapes that we went to the grocery store twice to buy)
-tea, lemonade, and water
-praline brownies (my recipe-- TO DIE FOR!)
-cherries in the snow (a fantastic concoction of angel food cake, a cream cheese whipped cream mixture, and cherry pie topping-- I like this and there's no chocolate in it-- that says a lot about the quality of this dessert)
-cheesecake (because I make the best cheesecake in case you were unaware of that fact-- every time I make it, people ask me for the recipe-- people who think they don't like cheesecake usually like my cheesecake)


That's all but it was more than enough. I have a philosophy of feeding people. I want there to be so much food that everyone can have as much as they want and there will still be leftovers at the end. I always make double and triple batches of things so that that happens. Of course, sometimes I get carried away and my family has to eat pasta salad for one meal a day for five days before we're able to finish it off. Do you know the strange part? When I ate the last of it for lunch today, I felt sad that it was all gone. Shouldn't I be tired of it by now? No, because it's that good!


As I close this very long post, I'd like to leave you with a fuzzy picture and a story. It's a picture of my favorite thing I cleaned-- the mantle over my fireplace. When I put away my Christmas decorations last year, I never put my regular stuff back on the mantle. I was tired of it and was trying to think of a new way to arrange it and some new things to add to the mix. Having an empty mantle and three children was too tempting though. If there was something we didn't want them to get, we put it on the mantle. If there was something that got torn up and needing mending, we put it on the mantle. A new item that had no home, the mantle could hold it until we figured it out! But we never did. I was a mess and it made me sad. So, one day early last week, I spent my half hour in the afternoon cleaning it off and later in the week, I put some stuff up there on purpose, not to get it out of the reach of grubby handed Hester girls. It was some old stuff, some newer, pictures finally put in frames, silhouettes printed out, treasures from all over.

The elephants are from my cousin-in-law's trip to Africa a few months ago. The blue vase/pitcher on the left is from France. The vase on the right was made by a hippie wandering around the southwest making pottery for a living and given to me by a hippie friend of mine who was on a similar soul searching quest but with weaving instead of pottery. Almost everything up there has a story of some sort. I think that's why it makes me happy. My Christmas tree is very similar with ornaments filled with memories and stories. Of course, the mantle will be an absolute pain in the neck to dust but I don't do that very often so it's all good.

The why of making stuff

Here's a quote from Eunny Jang, a knitwear designer and editor of Interweave Knits.

"...I do think a lot about this handmade life we lead as knitters, people who make usable things out of sticks and string. It's an extraordinary thing in a larger culture that praises speed and disposability—our craft is methodical, meditative, thoughtful. Its gratification is delayed. But we do it for the joy of making wonderful things with our own hands, adding usefulness and beauty to the world with every stitch."

This has been food for thought for me over the last week. I wish I truly had a handmade life instead of the real one based so much on store bought items.

How needing shoes leads to making lemonade

A needed a new pair of Crocs. They're an essential summer shoe here in the Hester household (for the girls anyway) and her feet had grown quite a bit since last year's pair. Crocs are the perfect shoe for summer activities in my opinion because they don't smell when your feet sweat in them and they're perfect for jumping in puddles, digging in the dirt, etc. I can throw them in the sink, scrub them, and VOILA! They're as good as new.

I have multiple children though so buying things can be difficult at times. M is small and doesn't care, but A and L expect to be treated fairly. That means that even though L has hand-me-down Crocs from A, I can't leave her out when buying new ones. That's what led me to the discovery that buying Crocs online from the the manufacturer was cheaper than going to Raspberry Row (which A calls "the Croc store"). Crocs.com had free shipping and I found a coupon code online for $15 off.

I had perused the styles and availability beforehand to narrow the choices. Then, I let the girls look. My goal for L was a dressier pair that she could wear with skirts and dresses. She wanted blue crocs. I thought she meant aqua. She meant navy. I was okay with that because it would match more of her clothes. Matching is important to me.

A wanted a dressy pair too. I knew that without asking because she is 100% girl and she only wants to wear skirts and dresses. When I showed her the available colors for the style she picked, she chose pink of course, her favorite color. The shade was called pink lemonade.

In the style of "If You Give a Cat a Cupcake"...

If you say the words pink lemonade, the Hester girls will want to make some. As their Mama searches the kitchen to see if that's possible, the girls will argue about who gets to stand on the stool. When L wins the stool, A will pout. When A pouts, her Mama will sit her on the counter. Seeing A on the counter will make L want up there too. When her Mama puts her on the counter, they'll start to discuss who gets to stir. Success! Mama finds frozen pink lemonade mix. Seeing the pink lemonade mix in the pitcher will remind A and L of how much the love ice. Talking about ice will make Mama declare how much she doesn't like ice. Talking about ice will make Mama start to get water from the refrigerator dispenser. As Mama gets water from the dispenser to make the lemonade, A and L will begin to stir. Seeing A stir will make L want to stir so A will give her a turn. Seeing L stir will make A want to have another turn so L will give her the spoon. Seeing A stir will make L want a turn so A will give her another. (The stirring will go on for a long time. You get the picture. Without a doubt, it was the best stirred lemonade ever.) Seeing the finished lemonade will make A and L declare that their Mama is the best Mama ever. Hearing that will make their Mama love them even more.

Trix are not for kids

I sometimes imagine my life as scenes from a movie. I think about the plot, the developments, dialogue that would make it more interesting.

I had an episode the other day that could have been from a movie. In fact, it would have been more interesting in a real movie than in my real life.

I was in the middle of getting breakfast ready when the phone rang. M's breakfast wasn't ready but I didn't want to listen to her cry while answering the phone so I quickly poured some Trix in a bowl, sat them in front of her, and answered the phone. It was my husband with news from the house hunt front. I sat down on the couch with a good view of M in her seat eating breakfast. As I listened to him talk about comps and short sale contingencies, I watched M throw Trix one by one from her bowl. Her focus was intense as she dropped them. She watched each one land before choosing another to drop.


In a movie, this would have been amusing because you could have seen the scene taking place in my living room and kitchen while hearing a voice over of the phone call. The contrast would have been a wonderful dramatic effect, the seriousness of the conversation juxtaposed with the kitchen destruction which mirrored the internal turmoil surrounding the housing issue.

The Trix were flying but I tried to wait patiently for my husband to finish telling me the news, thinking that it wouldn't be much longer. M starting throwing them farther and farther as I waited. Then, all of a sudden, she had a napkin. I don't know where it came from, but she began to rip it into pieces and drop them on the floor. Rip. Lean over the side. Drop. Watch. Sit up. Repeat. Ah, gravity, you are a wondrous thing.

I watched the scene unfold, unable to do anything, paralyzed by the absurdity of it all, as I listened to my husband spell out the timeline for the current house dilemma and watched M create a widespread disaster on the kitchen floor. At this point, I thought there was no reason to stop him or her. I thought he should finish soon and her mess was already made. He continued. She continued. I felt like laughing. He reached what I decided was a stopping place and I stopped him. I explained the situation, got off the phone a short while later, and went to inspect the damage. This picture is only a small snapshot at the base of her chair.

I found Trix everywhere. The farthest was probably a good ten feet away, maybe more. Some had bounced off the walls and ricocheted under my pie safe. A few made it into the living room. In my haste to answer the phone, I had poured more in the bowl than intended. I didn't realize how much more until I was able to look at them spread out on my kitchen floor. That helped me truly grasp the quantity I had given her. I won't make that mistake again.

I had to leave her in her seat while I cleaned everything up. She cried because I was using the vacuum at one point. She wasn't crying because she was scared. She loves vacuums. She was crying because she was mad she couldn't chase it. It took me almost fifteen minutes to clean up with her making her displeasure known the whole time.

Who said Trix are for kids?  They're wrong, horribly wrong.

Vocabulary Lessons

A: Mama, you look very sheep.

Me: What? (recovering quickly) Where did you learn that word?

A: Fancy Nancy.

Me: Oh, you mean chic. The word is chic.

A: (repeating the word) Chic. Chic. That means you look extra fancy.

Understanding is only the first battle of communicating with small children. Comprehending is much more difficult at times...

Butter Battle #1

Well, we made butter. Here are some observations about the process.
1. It's like magic watching the milk and cream suddenly turn into butter.
2. You have to shake it for a very long time, much longer than I would have suspected. That might have had something to do with my little helpers' shaking techniques. They were a bit lethargic. It was a heavy jar though. Also, A was more concerned with her chef's outfit than shaking vigorously. She's such a girl.

3. You should stop shaking sooner. The loose butter gets looser if you keep shaking, not firmer. After watching the kitchen happen the way it did, I was a little surprised by this.
4. Fresh butter tastes really good, crazy good, amazing.
5. Watching milk ooze up from the butter is weird.

6. My butter never got firm enough to make a ball and rinse in cold water.
7. I think #6 means we need to eat it quickly before it has time to spoil. According to what I've read, leaving excess liquid in the butter leads to faster spoilage.
8. I don't think spoilage will be a problem since my children are begging to eat it with a spoon instead of waiting for rolls at dinner.
9. I said no.
10. I licked some butter off my finger when they weren't
looking.
11. They were really looking.
12. I got caught.
13. Everyone got to lick butter off of a finger, no spoons.
14. This led to knowing #4.

Growing Up

My children are growing up. It's undeniable at this point. Last week, A and L went to what they refer to as "dance camp." It was L's first real dance and gym classes because she's finally three much to her joy and my desperation. I look at M and feel like it should be A, but then I look at L and she looks just like A at that age. Of course, the fact that A is going to kindergarten in less than two months still feels surreal. I love my girls though. I'm so proud of them for completely legitimate reasons. In the wonderfulness of who they are now, I see glimmers of the wonderful young ladies I hope they'll be one day.

I couldn't get a good picture because L was much too distracted by the fact that her first dance class was about to start any minute. Who cares about pictures when the purple door is about to open and you'll be invited into a world you've been waiting to visit for all of your memory?

Sunday Dinner

I'm a person who values traditions and I often find myself attempting to force more traditions on my family. That being said, I've decided that the way to avoid restaurant disappointment on Sundays is to create an elaborate family dinner every Sunday complete with bread and dessert. I marvel at the fact that some people in the world don't know how to cook. There is such joy in it (for me).

Today's menu:
- herb crusted sirloin roast
- roasted potatoes and carrots
- Jello salad ('cause we're just weird like that)
- French bread (warm from the oven and slathered liberally with butter-- not homemade... yet)
- chocolate silk pie with one of the most beautiful meringues I've ever made

Memories are born of joy and peace, love and laughter. That's what "Sunday dinner" conjures in my mind. It's family time. It's a crazy, loud time. It's important time. Make that time in your own life. You won't regret it. Remember, it's the time we spend on things that makes them important to us.

With every meal my family eats together, we become a better family. The planning and care that go into it help my children to understand that this is something important, special. They help to set the table. We light a candle. We say a blessing. We're a family.

(The pie was A-M-A-Z-I-N-G by the way. Did you doubt it?)

Sewing Lessons

A, my dear #1 daughter, has been asking me to teach her how to sew. I'm willing of course, but I wasn't sure how to go about it. The process is simple enough but the devil is in the details and I couldn't figure out how to remove enough details to keep it truly simple. So, I kept putting it off.

Then, I watched a video about the lace makers of Lefkara, Cyprus. You may have seen Lefkara lace called Lefkaritika. It's not a traditional woven lace but an embroidered lace. True Lefkara lace is made in a labor intensive process by spending countless hours making tiny stitches that pull and manipulate the linen cloth until it has a lacy appearance. Because I've dabbled in embroidery and many other handicrafts in my life, I know the incredible amount of time and skill it would take to make something like this. The problem in Lefkara is that traditional embroidered lace is a dying art. Traditionally, the skills and patterns were passed down from mother to daughter, but nowadays, the daughters and granddaughters are leaving the village for larger cities and other professions. Embroidering all day isn't their only option to earn a living. The ladies in the video I watched were all aging without anyone to take their place. It made me feel incredibly sad.

So many things are dying art forms. The skills I possess that make me a bit unusual were considered necessary for caring for a family two hundred years ago. Sewing wasn't a hobby. It was how you clothed your family. Knitting gave them socks to wear instead of being a way to pass time while riding in the car. Canning and other methods of home food preserving insured your family didn't starve. The things I do because I find them interesting and enjoyable were a way of life a few lifetimes ago. I personally feel that many of the problems in our society come from a loss of connection whether it's a connection to others or, in this case, a connection to the origin of the things we take for granted.

After the video ended, I felt an incredible burden to pass my knowledge on to my girls. I want them to realize that things don't have to come from a store and that they mean more if they don't. I want them to understand what quality is. I want them to appreciate the time and effort it takes to make something. With that in mind, A had her first sewing lesson on Friday afternoon. She made a little bag. She sewed up the sides and I attached the handles. It was so simple really, almost nothing, but she's so proud of it. She asked if I could help her make a dress next but I told her we should probably work on a few more simple projects first to perfect her skills. She's already planning another bag as a present for my mother's birthday complete with hand drawn pictures on muslin cloth. It's fitting really. Sitting beside my mother as she made dolls, my five year old self learned to sew many years ago.

Next up on the list of understanding where things come from, homemade butter and perhaps homemade bread.

Fun Food Friday

I hate the conversation that starts with "What do you want for dinner tonight?" It leads me down a horrible path of frustration. I was sick and tired of it so I changed my way of thinking about six weeks ago. In the interest of making meal planning easier for me, I came up with a weekly rhythm to what we eat. For example, if it's Saturday morning, we're having pancakes for breakfast. On Thursday, it's red (marinara) pasta for dinner. You get the idea. I struggled with Friday night dinner plans though. Previously, when we had higher salaries and weren't attempting to have two mortgages, Friday night was the night for eating out. I think that mentality is what caused me problems with Friday's dinner. I couldn't think of a category that encompassed both the ease and excitement of paying exorbitantly high prices to have someone else prepare mediocre food for my family. After weeks of struggle and trying out different ideas, I think I've found the winner-- fun food Friday, a night when I make easy, silly things for us to eat, kid food at its' best. On the menu this evening were swirly dogs and tater tots. For dessert, mud, dirt and worm parfaits. The girls had a great time. The pictures are of A and L building their parfaits and M eating an Oreo because I just couldn't bring myself to deal with the mess that would have came from her feeding herself pudding. Note the intense looks of concentration as they carefully place each broken piece of Oreo. On a slightly disturbing side note, the gummy worms had eyes and smiles. I felt a little bad eating something that was smiling at me.

I think one of the funniest parts of dessert might have been my husband's struggle with the realization of the concept. He's too literal. Oreos don't look like dirt to him. He finally rationalized the whole thing by deciding that it wasn't just dirt. It was potting soil with vermiculite. What?! How could I not love him when his brain works like that?