The Farmhouse

via Pinterest

2012-01-23T21:32:00.005-05:00

So. I have a new addiction for 2012. A new perfectly fabulous way to waste time during the day and evenings... all from the comfort of my home, all while avoiding the ever-growing pile of laundry on my neatly made bed. I say neatly made because well, I want you to know that while I do have a massive Mt Laundry, at least it's all atop a freshly made bed. Adds to ambiance, I say.

The addiction I speak of? Pinterest. For those of you who have yet to discover, think of it as an online (and wonderfully stylish) bulletin board, where you can "pin" you favorite ideas. The best part is being able to see other people's "pinned" ideas... everything from recipes to crafts to gardening to haircuts. Quotes, artwork, photography tuturials... and, um, ways to organize your laundry room ::cough::. It's all there for the browsing. The hours and hours of browsing. ::swoon::

So, in between cups and coffee and matching socks, I am dreaming up / making plans to build a headboard out of old wooden shutters, measuring ingredients for my own homemade laundry soap and whipping up a new casserole recipe. All in the name of Domestic Goddess. Here's a few things you might enjoy.

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Annie's Eas {{making your days taste better}}

I discovered this fabulous blog via a "pin" of her entry on what to make / pack / send / consider when sending a meal to a family. In the South y'all, we all send over meals when you might be sick, have just had a baby, or for any other of life's celebrations or sadnesses. This entry should be in the Southern Lady Handbook. You DO have a copy, RIGHT?

Now, I like food blogs. I reaaaaallly like food blogs with practical food I would actually prepare for my family. You can imagine my extreme happiness when, via Annie's Eats, I discovered her recipe for Peanut Butter Chocolate Chip Muffins. Oh yes, I said heaven. I made them for breakfast (x2)... they were every bit as delicious as you are imagining them to be right this very second.

And so,this is how Pinterest will start to consume mass, mass amounts of your time. One recipe here, one craft project there and before you know it, you're redecorating you living room in zebra print ... It's kinda like crack for the lot of us who suffer from ADHD...

I also made Rosemary Skillet Chicken this week... recipe discovered via Pinterest, from an adorable and useful site called Pass the Sushi. Josh told me I could make it again. Score. If The Boss likes it, then everyone is happy. This is the Farmhouse Kitchen Rule.

So, in between bites of Peanut Buter Chocolate Chip muffins (seriously, did I mention those already?), I happened upon the "pin" of a dear friend, which linked me to a tutorial entitled "Giant Picture"! Well, Helloooo, doesn't that just sound right up my alley? Sugar Bee Crafts has this tutorial for the taking / endeavoring / attempting. I suggest a strong GO FOR IT, because I did, and it's already finished AND hung on the wall. In case you might be wondering, these two worlds of Project and Finished NEVER intersect for me, EVER.

The resulting photo is a mounted 3' x 4' wall hanging of The Farmhouse Chirren. It was possibly the simplest project ever, and lo, it only cost The Boss about $16.00 . Josh likes anything that costs less than $20. Just for the record. Be sure to read the post at Sugar Bee for specific directions. I can tell you it's a simple as a trip to your local office supply store and your local Home Depot. And then, just like magic, it will be on your wall, and your friends can marvel at how much you (DID NOT) spend on photographs.

Don't worry... I already have the next fourteen ideas lined up ... I am sure right now Josh is running away screaming, checkbook in hand.

Oh, and I am leaving you with possibly my favorite finds ever on Pinterest... a few life affirmations, just in case you might be like me, and you know, need a couple.

Reassurance.

2012-01-07T16:48:00.004-05:00

While the rest of the world has been doing it's thing, I have been busy raising a teenage daughter. She has somehow survived in spite of this fact, and is now a beautiful fifteen year old, complete with attitude, 1.6 million pictures of herself on her facebook page, and a great sense of humor. I'd call her the total package. I mean, I do good work, right?

Right.

However, despite my best "city girl" intentions for this one... somewhere along the way she learned about horses, cowboy boots and boys in trucks. Give her a good time with some loud country music, boys with Justin's on, and a Jeep or a pickup truck... and the girl is in heaven. Sigh. This was not part of my master plan, but it's worked so far. The kid loves some camo, what can I say?

Last summer, she moved in with her dad, for some "higher education." Dad lives in The Big City, complete with Starbucks within walking distance of home. I was sure I was sending my child right into Culture Shock. I was right. She quickly retired her beloved pink and camo purse. Its hanging in her bedroom now... Her cowboy boots stay here, at my house as well. She has three or six other pairs of boots now... none of which can be remotely described using the word "cowboy." I guess a sign of how times, they are a changin.'

For a while, I worried about how she would adapt from country life to city life. However, a couple of weekends ago, when she opted for new Topsider shoes at Christmas and later flung her brand new, sparkly, REAL Coach Purse into the front seat of the car, I ceased my worrying. Turns out, she's doin' all right in The Big City. And I reallllly want her purse.

She describes her new high school and friends to me... they all wear Topsiders (see above) and boots, have no idea a tractor is, and don't know much about country music. They wear polos and know about soccer and golf. Sigh. A preppy kid. Ok, I guess.

Last weekend two brave souls, my dad and Joshua, took her and a friend to the local Mud Bog. Folks who aren't from the south - you'll just have to Google that one. I've thrown a few pictures in for reference purposes. Josh and my dad "mud bogged" before they became organized events ... even Josh said it was less fun as a "spectator." I say that Josh had a great time, and only ceased having fun when some "young 'uns" referred to him as "Sir." Um, what was I saying again?

OH YES! Sarah Beth. Mud Bog. Right.

So off she went, in camo jacket and cowboy boots, out to basque in her true "element."

When she came home, a confession that assured me that she still knows where "home" is... "Mama," she said.... "I was really starting to give in and just like the boys in The City. Thank goodness Josh took me to the Mud Bog. There were boys with boots on everywhere. I think there's still hope."

And all is well in my world.

I'm pullin' for the boot wearin' type myself.

Resolution 101.

2012-01-01T15:49:00.003-05:00

Blah blah blah. A post of resolutions for the year. Y'all ready? Y'all read one to many of these posts this week? Sigh. You're welcome.

I'll try and keep it short. Maybe.

I really only made one general, overall goal for this year... Live. A. Happy. Life.

I spent alot of this past year being.. well, sad. I destest admitting that. Josh says it to me all the time. Then we argue because hello, we all know he is ALWAYS wrong... even when he is right. When he is right I feel the need to argue with him just to keep him guessing. Can't have him knowing the truth of it all.

The sadness ... sigh. I have a very troubled relationship (not even sure the word relationship is a good term anymore) with my sister, and I miss her tremendously. Three years since I have seen her. THREE. YEARS. She has not met my babies. She has not seen my girls as teenagers. I sometimes (read: way too much) let this sadness get the best of me.

This sadness... It's kinda like having a hole in your heart you cannot fill, no matter what you try to pour or squeeze or shove into it. There are always leaks and gaps. I have finally given into the fact that these gaps are unfillable. Boy, that battle only took a year.

In this year, I am sure I forgot to smile and complained a lot and lost and left behind a great deal of the person I am. I got to the end of this very long year and heard myself telling my mom that the whole thing had "destroyed me". Man. I heard myself say that. It made me even more sad. I was just ... lost. Seriously and completely - lost. There is no making this better - no repair... as my "Jewish parents" used to tell me... "It is what it is."

Combine the above with an evening spent looking back over pictures of my girls when they were small (now halfway grown, don't make me talk about it) and looking at my precious babies everyday, I have just decided there is simply no time to waste on sadness in this life. Not one second.

Because you know, the terrible truth is - our babies grow up, our parents get older, and our lives change faster than we can shake a stick at. The worst thing that can ever happen is to look back at your past and wish you could go back and change something... wish you could go back and get back every minute you missed. I can't do that again this year, y'all.

My babies are fifteen, twelve, three and two. (My friends who don't have children just rolled their eyes at me... it's okay, I love them) I have, as my wonderful Aunt Karen shared with me (bet she had no idea I have remembered it ever since) a " table full" of healthy, happy children. 75% of them adore me. Save 25% for the teenager, who likes me well enough. (I can live with that) I have a hard working, dedicated man and father of my children, who lives and breathes to make us all happy (which, as he points out, is a full time job plus overtime in itself). I have my parents right next door - a daddy who STILL saves the day... and a mama who loves to come and collect my ever-growing laundry to wash ... and I usually add an extra seat or two at the dinner table.

I got it made y'all. And I am going to find the time to celebrate that every day this year.

So, my suggestion to you - turn it up, turn up the happiness you can scrounge up REAL LOUD - drown out the heartache you might be carrying around, and find a way... a place... to dance.

(my teenager probably just deleted me from her facebook friends, but I think it was worth it.)

(One of) The Greatest Story(ies) Ever Told

2011-12-07T12:30:00.005-05:00

Like I said, y'all, I could never, ever be a career blogger. I have to have the luxury of throwing my hands in the air, slamming the laptop, and pretending my online existence never happened. Then of course, like any good Drama Queen, I must also be able to return, with flair, whenever I see the need... and ask, in my most southern-eye-lash-batting-voice, "Miss me?" Ahhh yes. Mommy Bloggers.

I thought y'all might enjoy this story... you know, to kick off your holiday season.

So to make a long, complicated story four chapters shorter, with much less eyebrow-raisin', Josh and I have known each other most of our lives. There are, indeed, pictures of us together in a sandbox here or a pool there. I remember when he dyed his hair with bleach (cough, yes, he did) and he remembers thinking I was a nerd.

As we entered high school, two seperate worlds divided us socially. I knew he was there, he knew I was there. He says I was a snobby band nerd, I say he was a loud, hell-raisin' redneck. I am not really sure the laws of physics allow "band nerds" to be combined with the word "snobby" in the same sentence. Annnnnyway. I certainly would have never been caught with the likes of him, and he would never associate with us "band folks." Ahhh... can y'all feel the love here already? His high school buddies often tell me that they remember seeing me as well - but that my nose was always too far up in the air to notice them. I say this has way more to do with the fact that I am exceptionally tall (for a girl) and they disagree. Oh well. At age 34, I am more than willing to admit I was missing out on one hell of a good time with those hoodlums. Boy have I heard some stories.

Are y'all ready for me to get to the point? Boy, I am !

I asked Josh the other day what he tells his friends about his Baby Mama.... like you know, because I call him "my hardworkin' man," and "Mr. Bullock" and other sweet things that will surely make y'all roll your eyes. But really, what DO dudes say about their significant others to their buddies? And so he answered with....

"I tell everyone I got the Homecoming Queen."

Gulp. Um.

So here we are, almost 18 years out of high school, four kids, a house, two horses , a minivan and the whole nine. And HE thinks I was Homecoming Queen? Oh my. Houston, we could have SERIOUS ISSUES.

We live in some kinda crazy bliss we can't describe - partly because yes, we are having the most fun we've ever had with the life we lead ,and partly because most days we have no idea how we get from coffee to bed time. When you have four children, this is life. We sync our email calendars to remind the other where they need to be and when... and somedays I don't see him after he leaves until I realize it's his face I am lookin' at on the other pillow.

But y'all, I swear, I was never, ever the Homecoming Queen. Not even laughably close.

And so, I prepare to give him the news of our lifetime, the sentence that COULD BE a dealbreaker.

((SUSPENSE!!!))

"Josh. Love. I was never a Homecoming Queen."
(insert me starting to babble on about my BFF, who actually WAS our homecoming queen, and then, my other cheer friend, who was Homecoming Princess, and blah blah blah)

And he says

((SUSPENSE))

Well. That's okay. You're MY Homecoming Queen.

Man. I love this guy.

Yes, really. That's the story. No, really, you can't get that five minutes of your life back. Just consider it a donation to the arts.

guest starring

2011-07-31T22:52:00.005-04:00

So, while I am busy overseeing Joshua's progress on refinishing the hardwood floors here at The Farmhouse - and - pondering my return to bloggy greatness - I am guest posting today at Lacy's fabulous blog, Living on Love.

Enjoy.

2011-07-30T07:21:00.002-04:00

The past week has been a wonderful inspiration. So yes, that's my flowery excuse about why I haven't had anything brilliant to say. I have been busy reading, stalking and researching a lot of fabulous new blogs. Blogs about big city life, food, motherhood, photography, books, children - and every category you can think to fit in between.

I invited them all here to read too, and have now realized I have been so busy wiping the drool off my chin, I forgot to set out the cookies and coffee, for any passers by. This is grounds for expulsion here in the South.

And so, to make my week of bad hostessing worthwhile, I decided something. Pound Cake! Just kidding.

I am ready to get The Farmhouse moved on up (yes, Jefferson Style) to the next level. Let's face it... my design and content could use a little... direction. Turns out, this blogging thing is totally catching on, and there are ladies out there rocking the internet. And you know what? I am pretty sure I could be one of them... with a few small adjustments.

So, I am officially hanging our "Please excuse our mess," sign on the door. You're welcome. Stay tuned.

Weekending.

2011-07-25T09:27:00.002-04:00

We survived another Weekend here at The Farmhouse.

No thanks to this Little Cherub, who is quickly becoming, shall we say, Quite A Handful. She gave everyone a run for their money this weekend.

Speaking of money. Disregard the shaggy hair. And hairbows? Forgetaboutit. I have established a Hairbow Graveyard, in tribute to the lots of dollars I have spent on fancy, cute bows that match our church dresses. It's a sad, sad place. Josh cries everytime he visits. So does his wallet.

Daughters. So fun.

Summer Reading, Defined.

2011-07-21T20:26:00.002-04:00

(*I write this very post LIVE from The Farmhouse master bedroom. "Master" is a relative term in a 125 year old house... there is alas, no bathroom with a garden tub attached, and the only thing close to a walk-in closet is the laundry room, which IS attached. I swear, nothing in this house makes any sense at all. I am patiently (not really) waiting on The Toddlers to close their little eyes and mouths and sleep for two hours - an experience everyone else calls "naptime," and I call "maintaining my sanity." Josh is blissfully out of town for the week, and The Middle Schooler and I just had tomato sandwiches (surprise!) for lunch. She only ate half, just sayin'. )

Well, I guess if I am getting ANYTHING done this summer, it's reading. Oh. And paying for the cheerleading adventure. Two things that I guess, in the end, can be deemed important. Right?! I hope you have found yourself lost in at least one good book. Since you too might be interested in making up your own reading list ... so you can feel as if you are accomplishing great things in your life... I decided to break down my list for you by "how" I chose the books on my list. Enjoy.

First and foremost, everyone needs a
1. A popular, New York Times Bestseller.

You know this book, right? The one on all the shelves that you avoid for MONTHS because it looks, well... you know, waaaaay to mainstream for the likes of you! And then you realize, aw, shucks, who was I kidding, I just wanna be part of the crowd. Part of the dream. And thus, I picked up, loved, and still discuss "The Help." To think I avoided it for WEEKS on the bookshelves, turning my "I-heard-about-this-on-NPR-before-anyone-else" nose in the air.... A SHAME! Jump the shark for at least one title, ya'll. Otherwise, we'd miss out on great books like the Harry Potter series, and yes, Lord Have Mercy, The Twilight series. I can't believe I just let those words appear on the screen. Don't tell anyone.

2. An author who you already love

An author who you already loveChoose a book you've never read by an author you have... Listen, this is just a little secret way to make youself look well-read in literary circles. Since we're all hanging out in literary circles. If you have already read one book and loved it why not go for a second? I read Robert Hicks, "Widow of the South" a few years ago. So when I saw his name again on the bookshelf, I knew it would be a sure thing. Besides (see #10) I love a good history book. Fiction or otherwise.

3. A Guilty Pleasure

For you, it might be Harry Potter or maybe something way more sophisticated, like something by Danielle Steele. For me, it's Carrie, Samantha, Charlotte and Miranda all the way. Come on now. Ya'll know you love you some Carrie Bradshaw just as much as I do. I grew myself into my thirties watching Carrie and Big. I even saw the second movie with my MOM. Yes. I sat in a theater WITH Mimi while inappropriate words and body parts flew across the screen. It was, in a word, awesome. When I heard that Carrie had a whole life before Manhatten... I had to know all about it. Sex and The City is definitely my Stay At Home Mama closet obsession.

4. One Good Reccomendation

Translation : A book everyone and their brother suggests when they find out you are making a list of books to read. For me, it went something like this... "What's that? You're looking for a good book? OMG, you HAVE to read "The Shack." Oh yeah. YOu have too. It's so heartbreaking. So life changing!" Gee. Great. CAN'T WAIT. If one person suggested "The Shack," I swear, so did 43 others. SO I WROTE IT ON THE LIST ALREADY, PEOPLE. The truth is, if someone else (or 4356 others) read it and loved it enough to tell you about it, it could never hurt to try it. Peer pressure, people... peer pressure.

5. A Major Motion Picture

Don't you just wanna roll your eyes at your friends who go see a movie with you, and then after, tell you the book was way, way better? This way, you can roll in the pompous movie critic crowd, and inform everyone with you that yes, YOU have ALREADY read the book and found it much better than the silly old film version. This happened to me when "Like Water for Elephants" came out. I had no idea it even WAS a book. FOR SHAME. Get out, get cultural, and "read" a movie.

6. An Inspirational Title

Maybe you like to paint or draw or cook or do Soduku. I don't really understand Soduku, and try to stay as far, far away from it (and math in general) as possible. I kinda itch when we start talking about it. What were we talking about again? BOOKS! YES! "So You Want to Write" was a title suggested by the author of a blog I read everyday, called "EnjoyingThe Small Things," by Kelle Cryderman Hampton. I am sometimes afraid of truth and getting way too authentic with my writing, Like taking something I am good at to the next level (*there, I said it) scares me. So I put it a little down on the list. It's kinda like denial. Only better. Read something that improves something about you. YOU are special, and have many talents, even if you don't like to talk about them. Other people do. Like me, for example.

7. Something Funny.

A few years ago, when I worked for my Jewish Parents (aka, my bosses) in the fancy Stationery Store, my lady boss handed me a copy of Billy Crystal's book, "700 Sundays." She said it reminded her of her childhood in NYC. I rolled my eyes and accepted it, cause you know, I am nice and all. I never in a million thought I would laugh so hard I cried. I did. It was a wonderful, heartwarming, FUNNY read about the 700 Sundays Billy spent with his father. He counted them. Who knew Billy Crystal could WRITE? So, fast foward to this spring, when I read an excerpt from Tina Fey's book, "Bossypants," online. I love Tina Fey. I love Billy Crystal. Made sense to me. Everybody could use a reminder that life is a blessing - and we ALL need to lighten up, most especially about ourselves.

8. A Before or an After

So, the men have all those crazy Star Wars movies... with the prequels and the sequels and the Clone Wars and blah blah blah. Find yourself a good beginning, or a follow up to another book you already read, and loved. I read "The Glass Castle," a couple of years ago, on one of those crazy (see #4) recommendations from about a million + friends, when I mistakenly asked Facebook what I should read next. Turns out, it's now one of my favorite books of all time. The prequel to "The Glass Castle," is "Half Broke Horses," which is the story of Jeanette's maternal grandmother, and her days as a horse-breakin' cowgirl. The icing on the cake? It's a true story. Find a good before or after is just like watching a makeover show on Oprah. I miss Oprah.

9. A Piece of History

I had the best two high school history teachers. They were the Mr. and Mrs. Universe of history education. One wrote all his notes in chalk on the big board, and we spent the entire hour copying down everything he had written, while he lectured on something completely different - because, well, he frequently shall we say, "digressed" into politics and what was / is really wrong with this country. I learned all about The Civil War and other southern history from him. The other, a refined southen belle, who drove a silver-blue vette and big Jackie-O sunglasses, taught me about the history of The World. She had a huge, wall-to-wall map of the world in her classroom, and frequently reminded us that history ALWAYS repeats itself. I also had, for one brief and amazing year, a political science class that probably changed my life. It was the trifecta of social science education. A storm was a' brewin'. Now, sixteen years later, I read almost every history book I can put my hands on, for the love of country. I decided I should branch out of my historical nerdiness, so I only allowed myself ONE for The List. David McCollough writes EVERYTHING historically wonderful. It was an easy addition.

10. A Pretty Book

Hey, maybe you CAN judge a book by it's cover. I hope so, anyway. Go to the bookstore, run your hands across the tops of all the books, and stop on the one that catches your eye. Sometimes, it's all about the cover...in life and otherwise.

Well. I think I have now officially spent waaaay too much time on this ... and not enough time, say... vaccuming. Ahhhh... nevermind. Time well spent.

Homegrown.

2011-07-16T08:30:00.005-04:00

Here we are, in the midst of summer. I am not even sure where the past three weeks have gone, I am barely keeping my head above water. Just keep swimming, just keep swimming... Dori the Fish is my hero.

As we speak, there are rainclouds overhead, and fresh coffee brewing. It's a perfect Saturday morning in my book. We've got a "cold front" moving through the south, it's a chilly 85 degrees... which is a nice, frosty break from the 104 degree heat index during the past week. The AC at The Farmhouse is breathing a deep sigh of relief. There are red tomatoes all over my kitchen table, and I am trying to decide if it's okay for us to eat tomato sandwiches for lunch and dinner every day til say, September. You'd have to live in the South to understand the love of a tomato sandwich. Stop by. I'll make you one.

The transition of The Teenager to living with her dad full-time is going well. She has a full schedule every week, which includes tutoring, a part-time job at her dad's office, and lots of babysitting. She has her very own money in her very own checking account. Last weekend, after she bought herself new clothes. she said "THIS IS FUN." Yes dear. For me too. In more ways than one. She spent last week on a church youth trip, made new friends, and is already gone again for another week at the beach with her BFF. Last night, on the way to the BFF's house, we rolled down the windows, turned up the radio, and sang at the top of our lungs. Life is good.

Middle Schooler just returned from her very first week at Sleepover Camp in the north Georgia mountains. I knew she was homesick. I knew she was cryin' for her mama every single day. I knew it right up until I pulled up to her cabin to pick her up - and I realized I was totally wrong. She'd had a wonderful time, made a million new friends, and hadn't thought about her poor, sad Mama all week long. I packed her right up again and shipped her out with her Grammy for a week with her cousins.

They're growing up. And I can't find the "Slow Down" button on my Remote.

Summer Reading UPDATE / REVIEW

2011-07-12T10:03:00.003-04:00

Another book off The List!

I wish I could say the same for The Middle Schooler... who actually, only had one required book on her list. Shall we say it's... "Slow Going." The Social Life tends to get right square in the way of books.

Here's a review of My List so far...

1. ~~The Help~~, by Kathryn Stockett
2. A Seperate Country, by Robert Hicks
3. The Carrie Diaries, by Candace Bushnell
4. The Shack, by William P. Young
5. Water for Elephants, by Sara Gruen
6. If You Want to Write... by Brenda Ueland
7. Bossypants, by Tina Fey
8. Half Broke Horses, by Jeanette Walls
9. Mornings on Horseback, by David McCullough
10.~~Heaven is For Real~~, by Todd and Colton Burpo

You'll notice I did a fancy, "Skip to the End" move.

I added "Heaven is For Real" to the end of my list after seeing it in the famed Target book department. It looked bright and cheery, cute and - most of all - it looked, LIGHT! I figure everyone who is making a Summer Reading list should include at least one "easy" read.

Grabbed it up right before our Fabulous Fourth Weekend at the Lake adventure, and threw it in my bag... along with my unread "Country Living" issues and my "Farmhouse Ideas" notebook. Afterall, when one plans to spend the weekend at the lake, one should assume there will be PLENTY of time for reading, decorating and creative brainstorming right? Wrong! Keeping toddlers ON the boat deck is way, way more time consuming. Grumble. Dang kids.

Thanks much to Josh and his willingness to do all of the heavy lifting and life saving, I was able to pick up the book and "dive in". WOOO! Another summer pun. We're 2 for 2 now folks. Keep your seats.

"Heaven is For Real" is the story of Colton Burpo, a four year old boy who becomes seriously ill with a nasty case of appendicitis. Misdiagnosed and largely untreated, when his parents arrived at a larger hospital, his outlook was, at best - grim. His father, a Wesleyan minister, even found himself angry with God. However, miraculously, after a couple of surgeries, and several weeks in the hospital, Colton was discharged, having made a full recovery.

The story is the chapters following - as Colton begins to recount his "out of body" experiences meeting Jesus, and in heaven. Colton meets more than just Jesus and angels... without spoiling the story for you, I can just tell you that his stories moved his family in ways that changed them forever.

This was a VERY easy read - I finished in about two days. In some small way, I was a little disappointed with how quickly I finished it up.... I had to remind myself that I chose the book for it's simplistic story and look. On that note, it delivered. Also, for a girl raised in Sunday School and Wednesday Night Suppers, the stories Colton tells about the angels and their swords and about how many children are in heaven - were fulfilling and warmed my Jesus Loves Me heart.

There are over a million copies of this book in print, and the Burpo family has donated a large portion of the proceeds. That's pretty special in itself.

The New York Times shares a review / article here.

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Remember our first book, "The Help"? There's a movie on the way! Here is the official trailer. Looks pretty awesome. However, ALWAYS glad I read the book first. RIGHT?!

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Ps. Josh would just like me to say again that he did all the heavy lifting and hard work while enjoying our weekend at the lake.

Off to the next book on the list.

Just keepin' it real, folks.

2011-07-08T22:39:00.002-04:00

I wouldn't want you to think it's all roses and sunshine around here.

I brag and go on about reading and snuggling and meal planning and gardening... but, despite what you might think... we have our... um, you know, moments. Boy, "moments" is such a nice, pretty word, isn't it?

Just like the photos, our lives are not always in perfect focus.

We fight over stupid stuff. Like, alot. I save the important stuff we need to "discuss" for the most perfect time. "Discuss" is a lot like that word, "moment," isn't it?

We are late almost everywhere we go.

There is never anything to snack on in this house.

Who even KNOWS what happened to the missing remote or the fingernail clippers?

We forget Garbage Day like, every week, without excuses.

And let's not even talk about the unmatched sock problem.

Just thought I would share.

(PS! My next "Summer Reading" is complete! Review of "Heaven is for Real," tomorrow!)

three.day.weekend.

2011-07-04T15:55:00.002-04:00

been "camping" at the lake this weekend

with two toddlers

realized that

life is pretty simple

when you remove yourself from the world

for forty-eight hours

splash

jump

kick

play

came home

amazing nap

even more amazing shower

off to celebrate

the red white and blue

Summer Reading UPDATE / REVIEW

2011-06-29T07:30:00.005-04:00

It's so fun to be reading again. I hope you are too!

Remember, a few weeks ago, I made a Summer Reading List? Well. Things are going swimmingly (summer pun; you're welcome). I finished my first book on the list SO quick, I had to wait a week or so to start the next one / tell you about it - just so I could pace myself. Boy, if only all things in my life could go this well.

Let's review, shall we?

1. ~~The Help~~, by Kathryn Stockett
2. A Seperate Country, by Robert Hicks
3. The Carrie Diaries, by Candace Bushnell
4. The Shack, by William P. Young
5. Water for Elephants, by Sara Gruen
6. If You Want to Write... by Brenda Ueland
7. Bossypants, by Tina Fey
8. Half Broke Horses, by Jeanette Walls
9. Mornings on Horseback, by David McCullough
10.Heaven is For Real, by Todd and Colton Burpo

First up on my list this summer was Kathryn Stockett's, "The Help." I heard about this book a while back on NPR's "All Things Considered" radio segment. (Side note. I LOVE NPR. If it's reccomended on NPR, it must be good. I am an NPR-aholic. There I said it. Let's move on.)

I jotted down the title on a scrap of paper in the car, and knew it had to be at the top of my reading list.

This is an amazing story of the deep south in the 60's, in the midst of the Civil Rights Movement... and really, far beyond that... it's a story of generations of southern women raising generations of southern women. Isnt that powerful? I had never considered this before.

For me, as a good southern girl, raised in the Bible Belt... the perspective the book provides is heartbreaking and wonderful, both at the same time. (The NY Times review can be found here.) A review from Entertainment Weekly described the book as "graceful and real." I couldn't find a better way to say it if I tried.

(In her notes, the author notes the name of another book, "Telling Memories Among Southern Women," which is a collection of oral histories dating Civil War to 1900, of black women serving as "domestics" in white households. It's saying something ya'll, when I dig through the "Notes" section of a book. I already ordered it, in case you might be wondering.)

**oh. AND. Special thank-yous to the people in my life that taught me READING was super-cool.... a couple of fabulous English teachers (Mrs. Lee and Ms. Shuster) and READING! ABOUT HISTORY! yes, that would be one super-amazing-whistler, Mrs. Julianne Earwood.

Fathers Day.

2011-06-20T13:57:00.002-04:00

A few years ago, before The Great Falling Out, my sister and I asked my dad what he wanted for Christmas. If we had skipped him, and just asked my mom what my dad wanted, we already knew her answer would involve some exciting gift like "socks," or "undershirts." After approximately 30 years of gift giving from your children, I am just betting socks and undershirts get old. Fast.

Unfortunately, no credit card could prepare us for his answer. Like maybe all these years, we just hadn't asked him if he actually preferred socks and undershirts. My dad said he "just wanted everyone to be together."

What?

Oh yes... We made fun of him for several years after. I thought about even getting him one of those sweaters that Mr. Rogers used to zip up while he sang, "It's a Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood," just to pour salt in the wound.

Now, several years later, this answer has changed my life.

Holidays come around and I find myself perfectly content with the same gift.... just having my entire family together, in one place. Togetherness is one of the things we most take for granted. Practices, jobs, errands, school and the like keep us in 52 million places... it's a breath of fresh air to look around and know, we are just all there... under one roof. Pretty much the greatest gift one can receive.

So I don't mind giving this to my dad so much anymore.

Sweaters and singing not required.

This was a year that changed everything. And we didn't even have to buy socks. (whew)

Summer Reading.

2011-06-15T21:35:00.004-04:00

So much to read... SO MANY good things to choose from. So. I made a list. Yes, while I was standing in the bookstore. With a notepad feature on my phone. All for you, dear follower of my little blog.

1. ~~The Help, by Kathryn Stockett~~
2. A Seperate Country, by Robert Hicks
3. The Carrie Diaries, by Candace Bushnell
4. The Shack, by William P. Young
5. Water for Elephants, by Sara Gruen
6. If You Want to Write... by Brenda Ueland
7. Bossypants, by Tina Fey
8. Half Broke Horses, by Jeanette Walls
9. Mornings on Horseback, by David McCullough
10.Heaven is For Real, by Todd and Colton Burpo

So there you have it. I better get started.

Now that you know what I'll be reading, I should also tell you that I am about to wash my hair. You're welcome.

::edit::

2011-06-12T07:52:00.007-04:00

::the toddlers have taken to removing their diapers before I gather them from their cribs in the mornings... sheesh::

::as I type these very words, I hear them undoing them::

:sissy is saying "uh-oh uh-oh"::

::josh is out of town for ten whole weeks. it hasn't even been a week, and I miss him::

::don't tell him that.::

::supposed to be potty training right now. ugh. ::

::i have been retreating from everyone lately. dont really know why. double ugh.::

:: i posted about this last night, but decided to edit when in a better frame of mind.::

::just not sure where I am right now, or where Im going::

::better frame of mind = ingested more caffeine::

::did i mention i gave up caffeine a week ago::

::you see where this is going, don't you::

::hoping to find my way out of this funk::

::teenager has a job, and amazing tutoring. surprise. she's bored.::

::wondering who is going to mow the dandelions while josh is gone::

::i say dandelions because we don't really have grass::

::need a good book to read::

::plan to solve that problem today, in fact::

::books are good when you need alone time::

::missing the beach almost as much as josh::

::wouldnt want him to know that either::

::so shhh.::

Last Days.

2011-06-01T07:00:00.003-04:00

Hello, June. How've you been? We've missed you, for sure, but could really do without record-setting heat... think we could compromise somehow?

Last week was the frenzied Last Week of School. I don't really remember much past Monday, I just know my bank account is empty and my laundry room has now spilled out into my bedroom. At the end of the week, I became the proud owner of a Middle and High Schooler. Lucky. Me.

Really, the reason I can't remember most of last week is because it was filled with bittersweet emotions. Both my girls attended the same elementary school I did as a child - and last week we left it for good. Jordin did the famous "Fifth Grade Walk," and with that, we said goodbye. A bunch of us "cool" moms went in and rented the infamous "Furbus," sending them out of carpool line for the last time in loud, obnoxious, zebra striped style. Naturally, there are no pictures of said occasion. Sorry.

(If you are looking for a picture, there isn't one. I am forbidden to post pictures of The Teenager on my blog OR Facebook. Just to clarify. She's beautiful and lovely and postively hilarious in photographs. SIGH.)

Middle Schooler left behind her friends and everyday family for a new adventure... on Memorial Day, we moved her in with her dad for her high school experience... putting her on a path to possibilities she can't even begin to imagine. The Farmhouse is uncomfortably quiet. I read on Facebook last night that she was getting her nails done. The best choices for our children are always the hardest to make... even harder to live with. Did I mention how QUIET the Farmhouse is?

And so, the summer begins... swimsuits, watermelons, and record-breaking temperatures. Sunburns, plastic pools and homemade lemonade all have an appropriate place in our summertime adventures. And, somewhere along the way, we plan to throw in potty-training. Yay.

Miscellany.

2011-05-25T07:25:00.003-04:00

It's almost the end of the school year - two more days to be precise - and life is busy as ever. Parties, picnics, graduation walks, more parties, teacher gifts and did I mention parties? My girls are about to emark on middle school and high school... life changing things like lockers, football games and trumpets are what we have to look forward to... and no, we're not discussing prom, boys and driving. Really. I don't wanna talk about it.

So I have been doing a few fun things lately.

I think I might be into sewing. Don't tell anyone that. I haven't fully embraced this idea completely, that perhaps gardening and sewing are my "things". I guess I should call my mama and apologize for all those years I whined, complained and stewed over working in the yard with her.

I made a Peach Cake. The recipe is from Barefoot Contessa. I would have taken a picture for you, but the cake didn't last long enough. You should try it. Yum. I have decided you can make it and count it as a breakfast food, since the recipe includes eggs, milk and fresh fruit. PERFECT!

Do you really have Quints by Surprise? It's just a question I'm asking.

I hate grocery shopping and meal planning. HATE IT. Coming up with seven days of meals that keep my family interested and fed is ... well... it sucks. So, I signed up for a little program called e-Mealz , which has almost revoluntionized our household grocery budget and mealtimes. Until the other day when I went "off" the plan and cooked a huge southern Sunday supper. And Josh said the words WHY DONT YOU COOK LIKE THIS ALL THE TIME? And I collapsed in the kitchen.

I love, LOVE! the show Sister Wives. Don't tell anyone that either, mmmk?

Well. I think that's it. I have far more serious things to discuss, however, the coffee is ready and the toddlers are awake. Until naptime....

Farmhouse Food / Cast Iron Cookin'.

2011-05-21T01:51:00.002-04:00

Roasted Brussel Sprouts (*note, YUM!)

Fresh Brussel Sprouts
Olive Oil
Salt (I used Kosher, but whatever you have on hand is fine)

(prepped and ready for the oven)

Preheat oven to 350. Coat iron skillet (if not seasoned already) lightly with olive oil.
Trim brussel sprouts.*
Toss in a bowl, coat evenly with olive oil and salt, pepper if you like.
Pour brussel sprouts into iron skillet, forming single layer.
Roast for approximately 35 minutes.

*(I found a great tutorial on trimming sprouts here)

(let's eat!)

Catching my breath.

2011-05-17T13:08:00.002-04:00

Well. Here we are ... again. Me making excuses for my lack of words. Apologies in advance if you are a loyal reader and there has been no new material for you to raise your eyebrows over. Rest assured, it has not been for lack of material. There seems to be plenty of it here, everyday. Toddlers on a mission to free the guinea pig from her confines and a schedule that would make a professional organizer cry are our latest debacles. Did I mention we added cheerleading in? Ok, just checking.

Last time we were here... you know, a month ago.... I was speaking about some serious personal emotions. I have been busy trying to put them in order - mostly for myself - but also for the sake of sweet Joshua, who is probably tired of cleaning the mascara off my cheeks with baby wipes. Why don't I invest in some waterproof mascara? I think it should come standard issue in the Teenager Parenting Kit. If I happen to find such a kit, I will let you know.

I am being all dramatic here, but you shouldn't worry. We're all happy, healthy and entirely blessed. Yes, and I mean even Poor, Pitiful Jordin, the Middle Child. It's really lovely when The Baby (read : Princess) is forced into the role of The Middle Child. I could write a book on that transition. It's been, in a word... delightful. And I am just saying that for the sake of the internet. In any case, these decisions and changes I am lamenting over are really "a good thing," just rather hard to swallow.

Mothers Day came and went uneventfully - and I mean that in the best way. I escaped for most of the day in search of a Yellow Beard (yes, literally) for the school chorus preformance... enjoyed my quiet day complete with handmade cards. I happened over to one of my favorite daily read (yes, some bloggers are quite responsible about their blogging activities), Sipping Lemonade, and found some wonderful quotes. One put things into perspective ... perfectly, even. Are you ready?

And with that, I found my voice. My heart settled... and guess what? My mama was right (yes, I know, AGAIN) ... the sun came up the next day. And it was just as beautiful as ever. More to follow. I promise, this time.

The power of Realization.

2011-05-03T07:34:00.002-04:00

Been a bit... distracted lately. Making rather large, emotional decisions about my nest. You know how we Mama Birds are about our nests. And everyday, I would come here and stare at the blank screen and be sad that I had nothing to say. That the perfect, painful and right words hadn't all come together just yet. So. Close the laptop. Walk away. Spend the day lamenting my changing world. After all, if I have nothing to blog about, life is... changing.

Amazingly, in the midst of all this change... life - and the world.... carried right on in front of, and all around me. Despite my best efforts to retreat to a dark bedroom and cry and lament, I never found the opportunity. Divine intervention?

Birthdays. Easter. Royal Wedding. Celebrations. Friends. Family. Lots of lovin'.

Then, just this past weekend... it hit me. In a wave A strong wave of powerfulness. I couldnt really share my wave with anyone, but I heard words coming out of my mouth that put my life in perfect summation. And after they exited and made their way to the ears of everyone in the room, my heart smiled for the first time in quite a few weeks.

"Well, really, considering everything, my life is really quite blessed."

Yep. I said it. The words rolled outta my mouth in spite of me. As soon as I heard myself say it, I woke up a little outta my personal fog. Here comes the sun.

More on the changes at The Farmhouse soon. I am still searching for the right words to put my story together.

Good Friday.

2011-04-22T10:02:00.003-04:00

There is one sure way to know Spring has arrived at the Farmhouse.

Mimi's prize-winning (oh yes, I am serious) Iris have bloomed. She plants them, watches them grow, and totes them all over the southeast to various flower shows. We have a few blue ribbons in there. In the fall, she digs up the plants, divides them, and passes out extra bulbs to her friends. Mimi's Iris are all over the county.

Tall and lovely, just like all the women of the Farm. We are never stumpy, crooked and disagreeable. Not ever. I am sure Josh and Pa would agree, wholeheartedly, even.

Because it's Easter weekend and we should all say nice things about each other. Like how tall and lovely we are. Yes. Indeed.

Here's to a weekend of celebrations... renewal... and lots of chocolate.

Wordless Wednesday.

2011-04-20T08:09:00.001-04:00

(did I mention how hard it is for me to be quiet? oh, sorry. Shhhh....)

Ode to Messy.

2011-04-16T11:38:00.004-04:00

Here at the Farmhouse, the babies are the ... the Thing. Most of our friends' children are a little older... so the toddlers are quite a commodity. The most common thing we hear when we go out as a family is... DO YOU HAVE THE BABIES WITH YOU?!? We must prepare ourselves for disappointment and sudden unpopularity when we don't have the little bundles of joy with us. Some people come with candy in hand... others with sunglasses or other miscellaneous toddler friendly paraphanailea. Those babies know exactly what to expect, from who, and where.

People say things like... "They look JUST like their daddy!" (sigh, they do... it's true) or... "They could be twins!" (well really, we consider them so, just google the term IRISH TWINS if you really want to know how we get away with that one) and, the ever popular "They are just so CUTE!" (why yes, they are, as long as things go entirely their way... and I do mean ENTIRELY)

And just the other day, another phrase was added to the list of things we hear all the time.... "Oh, I just love seeing those babies... they always have the cutest messy faces!" Hmmm. Really? My babies have messy faces? Joshua just fell over. He carries two different kinds of wipes every where we go... one for cleaning, and one for sanitizing. It's a cleaning crying shame, I'm telling you. I think he has probably cleaned fifty layers of skin off their faces already in their short lifetimes. REALLY?!? MESSY FACES?? I don't even know how that's possible.

Except maybe that it is. I better amp up the cute clothes option to disguise the Dirty Face look. Until then, I have come up with a new logo for us. Enjoy...

Weekending.

2011-04-10T17:58:00.006-04:00

Long, wonderful weekend. Springtime that felt like summertime at all the right moments.

Friday morning... breakfast with girlfriends I don't see often enough. Girlfriends who have coffee and lunches and just come to me and the toddlers when we ask. Fruit Pizza, a Farmhouse specialty...

Girlfriends who bring fudge for breakfast... note to self: I need more of those. They may not be good for my waistline, but they are amazing for my heart and soul. I think it's a fair trade off.

A few long-time pals leftover for enjoying the sunny weather... and Monopoly, of course. These girls are all viscious future real-estate agents. In Malibu. Or New York City. Just to clarify.

A quiet weekend with no internet, no cell phone... just us, some friends, and the lake... calming. Amazing what lack of access to Facebook can do for your soul.

Early Saturday morning at Trade Days... a huge flea market with every imaginable thing under the sun. Josh wouldn't let me take a picture of the lady holding her toddler on one hip and a rifle on the other one... so I settled for a picture of the Snowball Hydrangeas instead. Party Pooper. For the record, he also wouldnt let me photograph the rebel flag display... "THIS IS NOT A TOURIST ATTRACTION," he said. Hmmmph.

A sweet walk in the woods with my favorite hell-raisin' toddler. Yes. I said "Hell-Raisin' " . I meant it, too. Don't let the sweet little pink shoes fool you into anything. It's all part of her master plan.

Now we are back to life... connected with the world again... internet, cable, cell phones... and sadly, I miss not being able to get in touch with anyone.

Me and Martha / March

2011-04-05T07:21:00.011-04:00

There are so many things going on at The Farmhouse... springtime, puddles, rainboots, egg hatching, guinea pigs, bunnies, traveling, cheerleading and the ever popular You-Are-Grounded-Because-Of-Your-Math-Grade. Ahhh, yes... spring.

As my friends "spring break" in New York City, I am home, holding the fort together. It's a big job, let me tell you

. Me and Martha is a project invented by my hip and stylish friend, Janet, from sunny southern California. Yes, we have met in "real life," right here in sunny Atlanta. I joined in on Janet's project not only because of the fabulous inspiration, but also to throw a little "southern" of a different brand into the mix. I mean really, a little sweet tea and grits never hurt anybody.

I jumped right in with two feet in February - threw open the pages of my issue of Martha Stewart Living and turned right to the Creme Brulee recipe. PERFECT! Except, it didn't go so great. Martha beat me, and so did the Creme Brulee, which was way more like a fancy Chocolate Soup, and really, I still can't bear to discuss it.

To say the least, I knew the March issue would require a less confident approach. I clicked "FOLLOW" on Martha's Twitter feed (she had dinner last night in Tribeca, just so you know) and buried myself in "research" mode. The cover alone was a bit more comforting... gardening is something we southern girls are trained to do. It's just like walking and chewing gum. In a good way.

Let's review, shall we? First, I asked Joshua for that fabulous tree bookshelf. Since it runs around $2800, he said "maybe next time." I'm holding out for a "Project Graduation Gift". I think I have a chance, don't you?

*********************

Since we are reading a gardening issue, and there was so much to choose from in terms of projects, I used the inspiration to get our own Farmhouse Garden (2011 edition) going, and planted some seeds. I like raising babies around here ... what can I say? A few Jiffy Greenhouses, and several packets of seeds - and we were in business. The Greenhouses are super easy to use. As of today, we have about ten Zuchinni plants, ten banana pepper plants, five watermelon plants, fifteen cucumber plants, and lots of herbs sprouting and going strong. Still to plant are pumpkins, beans and possibly a special hybrid bell pepper. Oooohh... I'm getting fancy. Someone should email Joshua and tell him to get started on my garden plot.

*********************

I call the Farmhouse Kitchen "my office." Determined NOT to let Creme Brulee get the best of me, I flipped and found some yummy Coffee Cake recipes. I went with the simple Cinnamon-Streusel version, mostly because I had most of the ingredients on hand. We ate every bite in about two days. Super yummy, super easy, and most of the contents are already in your pantry. Pecans tend to be pricey here in the south in the winter... walnuts could easily be used as a more budget friendly substitute.

So. There we go. March's issue is done.... and chalked up to success. The magazine itself is thoroughly wrinkled and well-read, due to all my "research" and onto the April issue, which I think someone has conveniently borrowed. Don't they know I have homework to do? Off to raise babies, cucumbers and teenagers....

Rachael.

2011-03-28T07:06:00.006-04:00

A few tidbits from our weekend...

Tween made middle school cheerleading squad.

I became a Cheer Mom.

We did not go to the BIG! Flea Market as planned. (RAIN!)

We DID go shopping at Sams Club; I bought nothing.

Josh bought himself a television. (FAIR?!?)

We let our babies play outside in a mud hole.

Bought Landon his first pair of boots.

Tonight, dinner with some pretty girlfriends. I do love having pretty girlfriends around at all times... More on life around here later, including my Martha and Me Challenge Update for March.

Things I Love. A collection.

2011-03-22T15:27:00.004-04:00

If you are, perhaps like me, and you type blog posts one handed while balancing a coffee cup in another hand and dance around two toddlers all at the same time... you must realize the need for organization. Wait. Allow me to clarify. I realize the NEED for organization. The NEED. I wouldn't want my mama to call me out in front of the whole wide internet.

While my socks may remain mismatched and I can't find my list of meals for the next two weeks, I am good at one particular area of organization... IDEAS! Don't you just LOVE IDEAS!? This is part of my terrible ADHD, I am sure, however, IDEAS! are what makes my world go round. It should be noted here that IDEAS! are what make poor Josh shudder with fear and hide under the guise of "I HAVE TO WORK SO I CAN'T BUILD THE TREE HOUSE CASTLE YOU WANT OUTSIDE THIS WEEKEND, MMMMK?" Hmm. I wonder if he remembers I want air conditioning and hardwood floors? I better make anote to remind him. JOSH? JOSHHH?!?

Recently I discovered the perfect place to store all my IDEAS! I discover on the internet... a perfect, tidy little place to file, label and share them with the world. Pinterest is a relatively new, hip and trendy online community of great IDEAS!. There you can share your IDEAS! with the world, and find other ones to add to your own collection.

These lovely stairs are a great find, aren't they? They are filed under my "Home Sweet Farmhouse" category. You can see all of my pins here. Art, cupcake liners, pretty staircases, recipes and just about anything else FABULOUS I find in my daily travels 'round the world wide web.

Now, my coffee's getting cold, and the toddlers are quiet... and that is NEVER a good thing. Enjoy.

Closet Confessions

2011-03-21T08:15:00.002-04:00

Well, a girl can dream, can't she?

Love Kyle Richards, and love the Real Housewives. Of course, I also love being nosey and looking in their closets. Bluefly.com, my new favorite way to be a peeping Tom. Or Tommette.

Sunday Cookin'.

2011-03-20T11:49:00.005-04:00

The Southern Living version of my Great Aunt Vera's Coca Cola Cake...

(or, as she would call it... Coca COLER Cake. Because, as we southern girls know, all good recipes include a little Coca Cola. )

Enjoy!

THE CAKE
1 cup Coca-Cola
1/2 cup buttermilk
1 cup butter or margarine, softened
1 3/4 cups sugar
2 large eggs, lightly beaten
2 teaspoons vanilla extract
2 cups all-purpose flour
1/4 cup cocoa
1 teaspoon baking soda
1 1/2 cups miniature marshmallows
Coca-Cola Frosting
Garnish: 3/4 cup chopped pecans, toasted

Combine Coca-Cola and buttermilk; set aside.

Beat butter at low speed with an electric mixer until creamy. Gradually add sugar; beat until blended. Add egg and vanilla; beat at low speed until blended.

Combine flour, cocoa, and soda. Add to butter mixture alternately with cola mixture; begin and end with flour mixture. Beat at low speed just until blended.

Stir in marshmallows. Pour batter into a greased and floured 13- x 9-inch pan. Bake at 350° for 30 to 35 minutes. Remove from oven; cool 10 minutes. Pour Coca-Cola Frosting over warm cake; garnish, if desired.

Note: Don't make the frosting ahead--you need to pour it over the cake shortly after baking.

THE ICING

1/2 cup butter or margarine
1/3 cup Coca-Cola
3 tablespoons cocoa
1 (16-ounce) package powdered sugar
1 tablespoon vanilla extract

Bring first 3 ingredients to a boil in a large saucepan over medium heat, stirring until butter melts. Remove from heat; whisk in sugar and vanilla.

*******************
Made this last week, it's already gone. My cake took the entire 35 minutes to cook plus a few... :-) I omitted the pecans, however, I would leave them in as an ingredient... for a little kick. Have fun, and Happy Cooking!

Me and Martha : February : Review

2011-03-19T12:25:00.008-04:00

A while ago, I took the Me and Martha Challenge with my friend, Janet. Janet is hip, fashionable, and has a shiny new law degree under her belt. She decided it might be time to get going on that Martha Stewart subscription that was piling up. Stewart Sisterhood unite! I was all in for the challenge. I wrote about it. I made it public. I shouted it from the internet rooftops.

Never shout anything from the internet rooftops. Because Martha, and her friend, Karma, are always listening. ALWAYS.

I flipped through the pages of my February issue and decided to go for two recipes. Recipes, after all, are my forte'. I love to cook and cooking sometimes loves me.

SUCCESS! Well. Sorta.

**************************

Individual Chicken Pot Pies (from Martha Stewart Living, February 2011)

This recipe is SUPER simple and VERY easy to prepare. Here at The Farmhouse, with dance lessons, guitar practice and two incredibly busy toddlers, we are all about EASY.

Why is there no fabulous picture of my own individual pot pie? WHY? Well, let's just say that one should never by PHYLLO instead of the PUFF PASTRY box that resides right beside it in the freezer section.

Phyllo is not NEARLY as photogenic as the fabulous Puff Pastry. Sorry. That's just the hard truth.

************************************

Chocolate Creme Brulee (from Martha Stewart Living, February 2011)

My second attempt at a recipe was just... an epic fail. Chocolate Creme Brulee and I? We are not friends. I had pictures. Lots of them. I carefully documented every step. I got a little testy when the Creme Brulee came out like Jello Pudding with a crispy sugar top and deleted all of them.

Since I am a good sport and all, here's the recipe if you feel so inclined. Just don't tell me about it. Ever.

I have already carefully reviewed my March issue, and have decided that one bad batch of Creme Brulee can't justify throwing in the Martha Handtowel. Stay tuned.

Spring.

2011-03-08T09:01:00.007-05:00

The south recently got a tease of warmer spring weather... a week or two of flip flops and short sleeves... this week we've been quickly reminded of what March weather is supposed to be like - bitter chilly, windy and rainy... and I have begrudgingly dug back out the jackets and socks for one last hurrah. Really, maybe Mother Nature could make up her mind. Our closets can't handle it. And if we're gonna go ahead with this "Spring" thing... I surely need a pedicure.

Of course, in true Southern Weather form, this morning, despite frigid temperatures yesterday. it's pouring down rain. Unfortunately, there is just no middle ground here. Feast or famine. Sunburn or parka. Take your pick.

Where have I been? I would fail as a career blogger I guess, jumping off the hiatus bridge whenever I feel like it. The past few weeks have been a blur of "busy" being creative for other people, which leaves few brain cells left at the end of the day for anything personal. I am always grateful for these phases of busy, a little extra money in my pocket... my laundry room and kitchen would have never survived without Josh's wonderful mama stopping by at least once a week to recover the domestic situation. Fortunately, she stopped raising her eyebrow at me a couple of years ago and now she just asks for a pot of coffee. I do love her.

When I wasn't photographing or chasing down elementary and middle schoolers clear across the county, I took a few walks with the babies... we really like climbing up and down Mimi's porch steps, feeding the horses, and looking under every rock along the way in search of "Bees" (read : crickets). We have yet to find a cricket that has thawed itself out yet, but we continue our search. I'll keep you posted on our progress. It's really kinda sad for the Bees, Landon just smashes them with his feet as quickly as possible. Maybe he's had a change of heart since summer. Let's hope so. For the crickets.

I've been reading. READING. For the first time since the toddlers showed up around here, I picked up a book, and finished it in a weekend. In case you don't understand, let me just tell you... as CEO of The Farmhouse, my life is busy. I can barely fold a load of laundry without any "help" from my Fanclub, much less read a page of a book without pictures.

The local bookstore is closing, and it was the additional 20% off that tempted me. So, in true Rachael form, I bought not one book, but three. I like to GO BIG, people. I have been happy so far - Jeanette Walls "The Glass Castle" was one of the best books I have picked up in a long, long time. I finished it in a weekend, give or take a day or two. For the first few hours, everytime I would sit down and open up the book, both babies would rush over and each take half of my lap with a stack of board books.

YAY! MOMMY! READING! WE LOVE READING! GGGGREAT IDEA!

Thankfully, after the seven millionth time of putting them in the floor beside me, they gave in and started Lifting the Flaps and telling Biscuit the Dog that it's bedtime on their own.

Josh kept asking me if anything was wrong. Like maybe instead of reading, I was really plotting his demise or sudden mysterious disappearance. He lived, so I guess he believed me on the whole "I'M JUST READING" thing. Next on my reading agenda is Barbara Kingsolver's "Animal, Vegetable, Miracle." I decided to start with a true story of hers, rather than her fiction. Besides, I'm all about a good garden.

Now, instead of worrying about what I am doing when my nose is buried in a book, I'll be sure to get Josh busy plotting out our garden. Because soon enough, I plan to tell him we're going to grow all our own food. Like I said, I like to go big.

Celebrating.

2011-02-23T07:37:00.002-05:00

In the midst of winter, I found within me, an invincible summer...

Time to celebrate. Throw me and my cousins in an empty room with some crepe paper and balloons... we'll do a little magic. We're known for our punch 'recipes' (a very relative term) and famous shower games. They are the only group I will play dreaded games with at a baby shower.

Healing to the soul. Bittersweet. Each one of them a bandaid on my heart. Makes me wonder when my sister will return. Not sure I will meet her when she does anymore.

Times like these remind me of what it is to have family. How we should love each other. Celebrate with each other. Enjoy each other.

How one day, we will all be looking back... so glad we have held hands on the journey together. Teaching our girls how to make punch and spread confetti. Teaching our girls the "sisterhood" of family.

Saturday Morning.

2011-02-19T04:48:00.005-05:00

It's about five am. Saturday morning. House is still. Very still. Only sounds are fire in fireplace... teenager snoring (how could I ever possibly write anything about that, jeez how embarrasing) and coffeepot... doing what it does oh-so-well.

Josh said last night before we closed our eyes that he hoped the babies would sleep "in" this morning. I didn't tell him that I don't think they know what that means, cause I thought it might ruin the moment. I just sighed and dreamily asked him to define "late." I think he fell asleep before he could answer. We'll be up and passing out Cheerio rations before seven.

Big day today. Baby shower for the sister-in-law. I am sure to be on the road by nine and not home until late afternoon. Veggie tray to prepare. Decor to deliver. Celebration to enjoy.

Sisterhood is a funny thing for me now. I appreciate the relationships of others around me in a different way. A change of definition in my life. It's surreal. Bittersweet. I miss her.

I am fascinated with the relationships of other "sisters" that I know. Amazed by their partnerships and roles in each others lives. What it must be like to be an aunt or for your children to be neices and nephews. What it must be like for children to be spoiled, loved and enjoyed by Aunts and Uncles. A very sad, little dark hole in my heart.

But despite it all, I am filled with joy. Two fat little toddlers, sound asleep, blissfully unaware of my internal sadness. Two toddlers who make everyone around them smile. Landon with his harmonica playing and Lauren with her sly smile. They love to tickle and dance and laugh. They back themselves up (literally) into my lap with storybooks because they know I will read it to them, everytime. I receive 345 plastic teacups full of "tea" everyday, because they know we will sit and share it and pour some more. Lucky am I.

Two beautiful teenagers who are talented, lovely and generally amazing. Who share hair curlers and blush and are now trying to wear each other's clothes. Growing. Women before I know it. I can no longer help them with math homework, have become totally uncool, and watch terrible reality television with them. Lucky am I.

And I realize, I am truly missing little in life. My cup runneth over. Where I have always wanted to be. One major thing removed from my life, and so much poured back into it. Spending my days reading stories, pouring more juice, and PTAing. Yes, I said it. PTA-ing. My, how life changes.

Off to spend the day celebrating my sister-in-law and a sweet baby on the way. A renewal for me, of sorts.... in more ways than one... you can just call me Aunt Rachael.

SWAK.

2011-02-15T22:09:00.006-05:00

On Valentine's Day Eve, I blew up thirty balloons. With my own lungs. I placed them all over The Farmhouse. I made garlands for the dining room curtain rod. I placed numerous boxes of candy and stuffed animals on the table. I know how to throw a party, people. Even if it means collapsing a lung.

The next morning, it was the usual smiles and oooohhhh and HOW MANY BALLOONS ARE IN HERE, EXACTLY? And sweet little Landon, who is a toddler of few words... walked right in the room and proclaimed, "BALLOOOOS!!!"

And my Valentine? Sweeter than chocolate and worth more than a few diamonds. Handmade by my creative offspring, who, despite their shudders to hear it, are more like me than they care to realize. SHHHHH. Don't tell.

Jordin made me some Mommy Time "Coupons," free to use at my discretion. Here is my favorite one. WILD CARD. I am thinking about presenting this one and saying - "See you guys next week ...WHEN I GET HOME FROM THE BEACH." I should probably use both of them at the same time for something like that, do you think? I mean, leaving town is really worth two "wild cards" - just to be fair.

I hope this one wasn't a swipe at my noticeable grey hairs. I sure hope this is not their way of begging me to go ahead and get the "Mommy Hairstyle" I have feared getting most of my adult life. Like, I have the Mommy Van already and if I get The Hairstyle, then people will just know by looking at me that I have four children. I feel it's coming sooner than I would prefer. Like, now that I have this coupon, I would say the icing is on the cake. Even though the thought Hair Cake makes me not want to eat any breakfast.

Movie Night. Ahhhh. A non-G Rated movie. One that might have kissing and a few good swear words. One that includes popcorn and candy just for me! ME! I don't even know what movies are out right now that don't include animated characters of some kind. To use this coupon, I will need to do some serious research. SERIOUS. I think these coupons also mean WE WILL KEEP THE TODDLERS. YOU GO. Hmmm. Maybe these also include the bonus of telling me that my shirt that is on backwards is smeared with banana and possibly I should change before I go. Is that a bonus part of this package? Or is watching me leave stained and disheveled just part of the fun? I need to read the fine print, I think.

In my previous BEFORE THE TODDLERS life, I got my nails done. They really haven't seen the inside of a nail salon since... since... well, that's embarrassing. Once again, checking the fine print on these... wondering if this means my manicurist will be eleven and in my living room ...? Does this coupon include free clean-up of spilled nail polish on carpets? Maybe I will just stick to the professionals for this one.

There were more coupons than just the ones shown here, including one "HOW ABOUT A FREE HUG" (I don't personally "charge" for hugs - but hey, IDEA!) and PICK THREE GIRLS FOR A GNO (Girls Night Out)... I love them all and can't wait to use all of them. However, admittedly, I am not sure which I am more excited about - actually using the coupons for all the fun stuff and outings, or the looks on their faces when I throw one down for redemption. WAIT! DON'T LEAVE US WITH THE BABIES! (Haven't I heard that one somewhere before?)

Oh, and yes... I included a picture of the models shown in my photos... aren't they just cute? Also because, who really needs them forming a Union? Trust me, it's hard work keeping The Farmhouse happy.

Valentines Day.

2011-02-14T06:55:00.004-05:00

Wishing you a Happy one... from The Farmhouse... where today, we will be busy eating lots of chocolate.

By the end of the day, we are sure to be a little fatter, on a total sugar high and completely sticky. It's a way of life we've grown rather proud of.

Martha and Janet. (And Me, of course)

2011-02-07T13:38:00.007-05:00

Several, several years ago, before I had four children and some grey hair that we won't discuss right now, I started this whole "blog" idea. I met lots of friends and stalked my comment section everyday to make sure that someone besides my Dear, Sweet Mama had commented.

That's how I met Janet. Adorable, SO CAL (southern California) Janet. A couple years later, we hugged in Starbucks in Atlanta. She was here with some smart kids who build robots. Now, of course, she has given up her teaching career and become an attorney. And to think, I knew her when she was just a blogging babe. Her husband would say that she still is a babe. But let's keep it G-rated, shall we?

Janet is a talented writer and super creative personality. She likes cupcakes, pink stuff, reading, writing, fizzy drinks and bicycles. She sends out adorable holiday cards. We have exchanged mail - cookbooks, cards and other goodies. I consider us real friends when you address and envelope to me. As you can see, it doesn't take much.

True to form, Janet recently decided to put her subscription to Martha Stewart's Living magazine to proper use... with monthly posts describing her own attempts at Martha's fabulous and oh-so-glossy ideas. You can read more about her first attempt here. I thought that my subscription would enjoy the same attention.

For reference, just to see if I was up to this rather industrious challenge - I double checked Martha's personal calendar, published monthly in Living. Should I be planting bulbs or cultivating my linens? No worries. Today she isn't doing anything. However, it should be mentioned that by the weekend, she will be jetsetting in NYC for Fashion Week. Color me green-with-envy. I wouldn't even know what to wear.

This month (February) has some sweet ideas I will be trying over the next couple of weeks. Stay tuned for what is sure to be a disaster of epic porportions, which should involve glue, glitter and a couple of sticky toddlers. Read Janet's blog for the elegant results posts - and just stop by here if you want to have a good laugh. Don't worry, I won't even be offended. (sniffle)

Test post

2011-02-03T07:53:00.002-05:00

Teenager Chronicles.

2011-02-02T11:30:00.008-05:00

(sigh)

Who knew mothering daughters - teenagers... could be such a challenge. Where is my big, red "EASY" button when I need it most? Must be with the missing tap shoes.. snickering. Hmph.

I woke up one day and my baby had disappeared. In her place was this tall, curvy fourteen year old. She just showed up, I swear. I looked around, under and behind to see where she dropped the "Instruction Manual" I am SURE she must've came in with - but, again, things seem to go missing around here... just ask the socks.

At first I said, "I am just not sure what happened."

But I am. I am sure.

You've seen my MOTHER OF THE YEAR Trophy Collection, right? At first it was pretty small and we just stored them on the mantel. I would receive one or two for sending kids in costume to school on non-costume days... for missing dentist appointments... forgetting what days were "early release" from school... Those were kinda funny.

Then it grew so big we had to build a Trophy Case for the living room. For some reason, we Mamas just never learn. We keep right on screwing up and humiliating our kids or making them go to school when they really have strep throat. And the trophies just pile up. If we learned when they were sick then we were sending them to school in shorts on an otherwise very chilly day... with blue jeans that were too short... or without breakfast. Battle scars.

Now, we have built on a seperate wing to the Farmhouse for my collection. Mother of the Year "Trophies" from floor to ceiling. I'm startin' to get a little embarrassed.

The biggest trophy arrived a few weeks ago. Instead of showing up in a nice little package, this one dropped right outta the sky and hit me on the head. It knocked me out for a while. Ignorance is bliss, afterall.

I dusted off the plaque on the front, and it says, clearly,

"FOR GIVING YOUR TEENAGER EVERYTHING SHE WANTS. DUMMY. "

And I was sure then. Sure what my part in this new, rather-distatesful version of my daughter I was responsible for.

Since the stork dropped off the toddlers two years ago, I have done my very best to be a COOL MOM. THE mom. EVER POPULAR FUN mom. This worked. There are teenage girls here every weekend - lots of new, name brand clothes all over the floor, an empty checking account, a couple of failing grades (that are OF COURSE not HER fault) and a house ruled by a teenager. I wanted her to grow and do and be. Instead, I have a teenager who really doesn't care about brushing her teeth. And that's the least of my worries. Can you say FAIL?

This trophy came with an envelope. It was a little note that said,

"You better clean this mess up. And by mess, we don't mean her room.

(oh, and enclosed are her failing math grades. Enjoy.)"

That's the hard part.

Wish me luck.

On Knowing Other Women.

2011-01-27T20:27:00.008-05:00

Today was a good day.

A beautiful day when I was yet again reminded to go. be. do.... and celebrate.

Everyday is not like this. It is easy to get sucked into the void of "everyday," overwhelmed with laundry, grocery lists and crying toddlers. You don't have to have four kids and a Joshua to take care of to know this. Everyday as a Mama is not the best day. After fourteen years of being a mother, I am getting ok with the "everyday."

But some days.

Some days are beautiful.

They happen, these beautiful days, rather unexpectedly.

There are some days, ,when some of the most beautiful women you know - and some you don't' - surround you with love and understanding. Uplifting and hopeful. Mothers and Grandmothers who have been where you are. Who have wiped the tears you are crying from their own faces once or twice before. And then the ones who haven't yet crossed the well traveled bridges you are navigating... those who follow behind you.

And I am reminded. Life is full. Blessed. And very lovely.

I sit across from a beautiful woman (inside and out) who professes that she has four teenage girls living under her roof. And she tells me, so wisely, that I WILL come out on the other side of this experience we call "being fourteen." And I will survive. And right now, I should handle with care and grace. Whoa.

I. Will. Survive.

I hear her speak about her daily life. And how, at the end of the day, she tries to remember to be finished with her personal matters, so she can just be her husband's wife. Revelation. Maybe I should stop running around like a frantic housekeeper until 10 pm. Who knew?

Wow. Simple. And yet so... profound. Two of my problems solved. In a very short amount of time. By someone who was just talking. Sharing. Giving. Passing down their own life travels.

I love bible study days. I walk in with an open heart and prepare to be amazed. Not only at what I will come away with from a book or a highlighted note. But from what I will learn from other women... those who know me well and those who don't know me at all... other women who have walked my same path... a slightly different path... all who have something to teach me.

A reminder that we, mothers... women... need other women in our lives. My network. My Village.

Did I mention it was a good day? It was.

2011-01-20T07:19:00.000-05:00

Snowpacalypse 2011 / A Recap.

2011-01-15T08:11:00.012-05:00

Just for your information, as I write this very sentence, Lauren Grace is busy rubbing her jelly covered hands in her hair. Sometimes, the internet comes first, babies.

Snow. Snow. Snow. This same time a bout a week ago, Atlanta woke up to six inches of the prettiest stuff EVER. It was white... shiny... glistening, even. Beautiful.

On Monday morning, we woke up to this. For your information, that's somewhere between four and six inches of the white stuff... with a nice, thin layer of ice delicately placed on top.

(Newly fallen snow, very early Monday morning. To accomplish this picture, simply threaten everyone in your home that if they step out in the snow before you do, they can stay inside and fold laundry.)

If you're still reading this, then you must not be from Atlanta. How do I know this? Because everyone who is from Atlanta came here, saw the subject matter of this post, quickly rolled their eyes and ran away screaming. We are all so sick of even the IDEA of snow now, that I think we might just rename our state FLORIDA.

Not only are the grocery stores sold out of ... well, everything - but most of them are closed, along with banks, gas stations, movie theaters, major interstates and any place you can possibly imagine. SHUT. DOWN. So, just to recap that ... not only are all stores and other places closed, but all roads leading to them are closed as well. Just to make sure you understand.

Suddenly feeling a little... claustrophobic? Yeah. Just imagine my little crooked house with five OTHER people besides myself roaming around in a state of complete boredom. One word to describe that, folks....

AWESOME.

This whole concept of everything being closed, including the roads, is very fun for approximately 24 - 48 hours. By the end of the second day of snow and ice, we are all getting cabin fever and sick to death of wet socks, lost gloves and the pile of muddy, wet shoes by the front door. By the end of day two, snowmen have been built, sleds exhausted and we are just plain... COLD. Coming from a region of our country where we find it acceptable to wear flip flops right up until Thanksgiving, this is never good.

(Jordin and Em thought they would build an igloo. Since that plan was a little industrious for their taste, they quickly abandoned and went right back to the good ole' fashioned sled idea.)

The snow did have it's perks, however. Yes, admittedly, there were a few.

Snow tends to slow us all down a little... causing you to watch every second of the news, as if perhaps we live near or on a distant planet... somehow is responsible for you eating mass amounts of snack foods, watching lots of bad B movies on cable, and sleep all day just because you wanted too. This lasts ... for a time.

And so, a week later, the snow started to melt. We thawed. We started to return to normal life... schedules, routines, rules and general order. I made my older children bathe for the first time in days. DAYS. Mind you, hot water was available the ENTIRE TIMEwe were "stuck" together. Just wanted to clarify.

(I just love typing those words... it just sounds so great on paper... rules, order, blah blah)

When I awoke from my Snow Fog, I realized, to my horror, that my sink was piled high with unwashed dishes, and my laundry room? Dudes. Let's not even GO there. The pile of wet socks alone would cause a man to go blind.

Panic! Grief! Fear! ... SNOW!

2011-01-09T22:13:00.001-05:00

This is a little post for all my "non-southern" readers... Ohio, California... etcetera...

ANNOUNCEMENT ... SNOW IN GEORGIA ... and a lot of it.

You should SEE how southerners behave in the snow. Pictures to come.

Resolute.

2011-01-07T06:11:00.004-05:00

Boy, who knew a week of sick toddlers would put me under? And by under, I mean buried six feet down under twelve loads of laundry, a lot of snot and two teary babies. When I signed up for the "Two under Two" plan, I just had no idea. Someone should've given me a manual or something. Of course, I said the same thing with the big girls - and so far - they're turning out ok. LOOK MA! NO HANDS!

I have tried about fourteen million times to write a post about my resolutions for the New Year. Unfortunately, every time I grab five minutes of having my hands free of Kleenex, I looked over and saw the dishes in the sink or the laundry piles where my loveseat used to be... and I felt... guilty. Guilty that perhaps my family would be wearing dirty underwear in lieu of me getting out a little writing for the general internet public. What can I say... sometimes, the family comes before the internet. I said sometimes, people.

So now, here we are... on the other side of the Nasty RSV virus. We are here with minimal snot and only a few leftover tears... and those are just because SOME PEOPLE around here think they should still get to sleep with Mama, even though they are feeling much better. TOO BAD! Except for did I mention how snuggly those little peanuts are? It's kinda addicting.

The New Year came - 2011- and I was sound asleep... with a sniffly toddler under my arm. I think Joshua stayed up to it in for everyone here at The Farmhouse. He's such a trooper like that... taking one for the team. I think that he made it until midnight only because when he climbed into bed Iremember him whispering "Happy New Year." Just for the record, I sweetly responded with something menacing like, "if you wake her up, I WILL kill you." Yes. Happy New Year, Sweetheart.

Back to the whole Resolution thing. I had some extra time to think about last year ... and this year... and everything in between. Here is my list, for all of you who might be interested. I have included the completely ridiculous, as well as the incredibly significant. Enjoy.

1. Be a better Mama. Everyone has room for improvement, right? I realize the other day that Sarah Beth is fourteen. Four more years before she flies my coop out into the big grown up world. I want every moment to count. This might mean more nerve mediciation or possibly a therapist... but I am determined to learn how to enjoy this phase we call "Teenager."

2. COOK. COOK. COOK. I live in my great-grandparent's 125 year old former Farmhouse. I have the privilige of cooking meals for my family in the same kitchen my great grandmother made her biscuits. This year, I plan to celebrate this fact, rather than complaining so much about the lack of counter space and no dishwasher to speak of. Maybe I will hire my teenager for that job. See #1.

*prepare for superficial resolution (sure to make you roll your eyes)

3. I will watch every episode of Jersey Shore.

4. I will pray for starving children and World Peace. This will make up for #3.

5. READ. I used to read all the time. I couldn't be found usually without a book.... and now I make excuses about not having time to read. I need to read to my babies more often. They love books. This year, I will take time to read - to myself and to the babies.

6. CREATE. Long before I became a Bridezilla Wrangler, I was a creative soul who made scrapbooks, published daily blog entries, sewed, and everything in between. Then I got a job wherein the creative life was sucked out of me on a daily basis, by mostly lovely brides who wanted beautiful wedding invitations. I loved my job, but my personal creativity suffered greatly. I was too busy sharing it with the world of Weddings. I actually gave away most of my craft supplies, having no time or energy to devote to them. Now, back to the Stay at Home Mama life... I need a return to the Creative Me. Maybe with a bit more focus. Maybe. Focus afterall, not my strong suit.

7. CELEBRATE. Life is short. We need to play harder and enjoy the everyday a little more.

So that's it. the Resolution Short List. 2011, here we come. Me, Joshua, The Farmhouse, The Babies, The Girls... and the entire cast of Jersey Shore. Look out.

2011-01-07T06:06:00.001-05:00

2011/364

2011-01-02T21:34:00.003-05:00

As a general rule, anything for the kitchen is a perfect gift for me. Just in case you ever might be out shopping, think of me, and decide to bring me a present. Just in case.

I came home from a busy morning of Christmas Eve errands, and found this waiting for me on the stovetop. A little treat from Mimi and Pa. A perfect treat that even matches my kitchen and dining room walls.

Mimi and I christened it just the other night, with homemade vegetable and beef soup.

I think it's gonna be a good year.

2011/365

2011-01-01T17:13:00.001-05:00

In the kitchen, yo.

2010-12-25T21:19:00.003-05:00

I love the holidays.

I love my little kitchen.

The two make for a nice combination.

(chocolate oatmeal cookies, courtesy of Josh's Mama... and bottles of homemade muscadine wine. )

I hosted Josh's family here at The Farmhouse on Christmas Eve. We had a feast. A big, messy feast. We ate on paper plates and drank homemade wine out of Dixie Cups. I am pretty sure those are lyrics to a country music song .... somewhere. Somehow. And yes, I am serious. We did.

I love having company. Especially the kind I can cook for. And the kind that brings homemade mac and cheese and a big pot of collards with them. Just sayin'.

(I cook in the same kitchen that my great grandmother cooked meals in... cool? Yes.)

So. The best cookbook I have ever purchased in the history of my thirty two years is by The Pioneer Woman, Ree Drummond. I started following her blog several years ago, and started following her kitchen adventures about the same time. Hello, delicious. I am one of about 2 million followers of her blog. To her, I am a mere kitchen peon.

The cooking section of her website can be found here. All I can say is... take notes. But, if you get really dedicated to her style and charm and her amazingly good looking cowboy husband, think about purchasing her cookbook. It's filled with easy, delicious recipes - and even better - lots of pictures of her husband and cows. In that order.

I consider a cookbook GOOD when I know almost all the recipes by heart, and the pages are stained and dog eared. I might have to get a new copy of hers soon. Mine's lookin' kinda shabby, in a good way.

For my contribution to Christmas Eve dinner, I made her Creamy Mashed Potatoes . (Ree made them on Good orning America) None leftover. Dang company. Always eatin' all my food.

(cousins at the dinner table)

Since I am a good southern girl who loves her mama, I also love Paula Deen. What can I say? I totally gel with her philosophy on adding a stick of butter (or three) and mayonaise to anything. I also belive and sweet tea and grits, and the combination of all those things means I'm going to heaven. Yes, Jesus is involved in that plan too, so don't start worrying. I think we all know Jesus likes a good glass of sweet iced tea every now and again.

So on Friday, I tried her recipe for Corn Casserole. I have tried a few other recipes for this casserole in the past, and they are always dry and kinda ... yucky. Fortunately, (unfortunately for Josh) I don't give up that easy. This recipe was easy, inexpensive, and involved one of my other favorite ingredients... JIFFY Corn Muffin mix. There were also no leftovers. SIGH. SOME. PEOPLE.

Now I just gotta clean all this up. STAFF!? STAAAAF!

Jolly.

2010-12-21T07:27:00.010-05:00

(So I made these tiny stockings with all our initials. That's a lot of initials. My goal was to hang them above the fireplace but HELLO, Fire Hazard sayeth Josh so ... improvision.)

Ok. The title of this post is a bit of a... well, stretch. The Farmhouse, in all of it's 125 year old glory, has not one hallway. Not. One. There used to be at least one, but, somewhere along the way, someone knocked it out and made spaces bigger.

Of course, we have no closets in this house either. Apparently, when Farmhouse was built, closests were just not the fashion. An armoire must've seemed much more glamorous. So we have like, a few of those here. And only one closet that was added, and poorly, at some point.

Did I tell you that we have six people living here now? With no closet space? Ok, just checking.

Fortunately for us, and our clothing, creativity is my specialty.

(Christmas plates on the wall.... Christmas plates which usually don't see the light of day)

So. One. Two. Three. Four trees in the house this year. No, that wasn't planned - it just kinda happened that way... the more fun Landon was having with the whole tree concept, the more carried away I got... and what can I say, it was great for the vocabulary... in the past month, we've learned the words

snowflake

butterfly

pretty

and the ever so popular

NO SISSY

which means, "Sissy, please, if you could, stop touching the Christmas trees. It sucks when you do that." Lauren has a slight obsession with doing things she's not supposed too... hmmm... guess that can only get worse.

(more Christmas dishes on the mantel in the dining room and two toddlers I don't even know, I swear)

Presents are wrapped. Tree is completely dead, but still pretty. Grocery list is complete.

First official family gathering is tonight. I am the official cook of Sweet Potato Souffle in our family. It's a requirement and no one even asks what I am bringing anymore. They tell me to HUSH MY MOUTH when I suggest bringing something else. Sigh. Marshmallows and pecan topping it is.

I am also cooking a HAM! on Christmas day. We have no plans for guests, so I am not sure exactly what I am thinking, except for that maybe my Martha is showing.

(Jordin's Graham Cracker Gingerbread House.... a 5th Grade Tradition... placed high enough so that Lauren cannot eat it because, HELLO, why not)

Landon has decided that Santa Claus should be called Ho Ho... and really, anything related to Christmas apparently belongs to Ho Ho. Those are Ho Ho's lights on our house and that is DEFINITELY Ho Ho's Christmas tree and Ho Ho's presents. Any and all Christmas items hereby belong to and can be traced back to Ho Ho.

This time last year, we had Landon strutting around town in his "Santa Landon" outfit. We started practicing in October of last year to get him to pat his belly and say HO HO HO... and all we got was a blank stare... this year however, THIS YEAR! when the outfit is way, way too small... we HO HO HO everywhere we go ... ESPECIALLY when an item related to Ho Ho himself appears.

(new red tractor Christmas Tree lights ... thanks, Mimi)

So far, Landon has only unwrapped one gift. And SCORE! it was one of mine from the girls. I swear, that wasn't planned. I did not, and would never have pointed him in the general direction of taking the tissue out of tha tbag. I was however, able to talk the girls into letting me go ahead and open the yummy bag of flavored coffee that was inside. Because you know, HECK, why not enjoy it.

The rest of the presents I carefully wrapped are now a part of the tagless, bowless gift graveyard that the babies built with their own two hands under the tree. It's true. They are on a mission from the Grinch. REMOVE ALL BOWS AND IDENTIFICATION IMMEDIATELY. I occasionally try and sneak a bow back on, and Lauren gives me the evil eye. Like, SHE'LL BE BACK.

So, I guess we're all ready.

Let the weekend begin. Stockings, candy and presents. And sweet potatoes. Can't forget those. Unless of course I get crazy and take ARTICHOKES.

Tis the season.

2010-12-16T22:02:00.008-05:00

Our lives are busy. Filled with dance lessons, toddlers, and teenagers. I hardly find time to breathe, much less this... my favorite - free - blissful therapy.

I have been lamenting a little lately... missing my old life... the one where I went to movies... shopping... took long naps... took long showers...

The one where I could sit my coffee cup down and not worry about someone finding it and pouring it onto my freshly mopped floors.

The one where I didn't have to use plastic ornaments on my Christmas tree. (for the record, in my former life, plastic ornaments were not only ugly, but a horrific Christmas crime)

Over breakfast the other day, I told Josh my woes. How I missed our quiet weekends away. How I missed date nights and restaurants with no high chairs and any movie without a "G" rating.

But Josh. He is wise. He is content and happy. He said that playing with the babies replaces all that for him. It's just as good.

And my heart was happy. And full. Because, my cup runneth over.

Everyday, I am followed around by my two biggest fans. They are so in love with me, they want to do everything I do. They want to sit at my feet and play with puzzles or books and use my jeans for a napkin. Awesome.

I beg them to sing "Itsy Bitsy Spider" with me just one more time, because my heart melts everytime I see them use their fingers to make their little Itsy Bitsy Spider.

I search endlessly for matching outfits everytime we leave the house. Because, HELLO, I think everyone should enjoy just how adorable these two are... And I am frankly happy to not ever leave the house... as our best days, it turns out, are the ones we spend in our pajamas.

I relish naptimes... and after about two hours, I am pacing the floor, having exhausted all the possibly quiet time I can stand.

I watch episodes of Bob the Builder and Thomas the Train... willingly. I realized the other day, while Christmas shopping, that I now can recognize the Engines from Sodor without needing the show or a label. I'm gettin' good, ya'll.

I cut hotdogs and green beans and peices of banana into tiny, bite size chunks. The big girls don't even complain anymore. Everything we eat has become a finger food.

And so, in my moments of missing the old life.. the one before The Presidents of My Fan Club showed up... I remember the little moments - the ones where my hair remains unwashed, my clothes are mismatched and my living room is cluttered with legos... they are the best. Besides, what are a few plastic ornaments just between friends?

(Gratitudes, continued) The Dog Days are Over....

2010-11-22T07:26:00.007-05:00

Life is hard. Cliche'. But oh so true. There are the days, the moments, the experiences that are just... unbareable. The ones that make the rest of life a blur... the ones that makes us hold our breath, closer our eyes, and pretend none of this is really happenening.

Two years ago my life underwent a prety major change. A change I first shrugged my shoulders about - waited patiently for it to pass - and then realized it wasn't going to. I was railroaded with tremendous emotion, uncertainty, and pain. And the worst part? I knew it wasn't going away anytime soon. The worst worst part? I would always, even in my happiest moments over the coming years, be reminded of this.

Find a happy place. Find a happy place.

I closed my eyes.

Find a happy place. Find a happy place.

The last two years have been full of joy, the birth of my precious son. The birth of my even sweeter daughter. Watching my older girls become the "big sisters". Realizing that - truly and fully - I was put on this earth to be their mother. It only took 31 years to finally become ... Mama.

But each moment has come with the reminder that my sister isn't here anymore. She doesn't want to share in my joy and my life. And that has been... devastating. You can't imagine it really, "losing" a sibling the way I have... alive and well she continues on... with no second thought of me. I guess it's called being "disowned". Family love... not unconditional. I don't talk about it much. But it's the hardest thing I have ever experienced.

Squeeze eyes shut tighter. Pray it will all just go away, even though I came to realize it would not.

Find a happy place. Find a happy place.

((pause))

I have opened my eyes on occasion since this, and looked around... and I have seen Them there.

I have opened my eyes just every now and then since then and tried to see who was looking... and They were there.

They were there, laughing... carrying on... loving my precious babies... taking me on vacation... digging their toes in the sand with me... teasing my daughter's hair on Halloween to Zombie state... consulting my 14 year old on what eyeshadow would look best... playing chefs at the babies birthday... taking me out to breakfast... celebrating my birthday... lounging around a fire with Josh...watching my toddlers while I tote my camera all over town... encouraging, sharing, being... loving us just because we are... us.

They have been there. The whole time. Just waiting on me to open my eyes. And realize, magically... happy place found.

Time to open my eyes. And celebrate.

You can't always "fix" what life throws your way. Sometimes, I think, we aren't supposed to. It's possible God intends for us to learn a new way around - a new way to get where we are going... I think I have found mine. And I am eternally grateful girls. Eternally grateful. You are on the TOP of my list of things to be most thankful for.

5110 Days. A celebration.

2010-11-11T05:43:00.003-05:00

Fourteen years ago, in the wee hours of the morning, She entered the world. Quickly, and ever so quietly. It was just She and I. She opened those big blue eyes and looked up at me and blinked. Here We are, Mama. Now what?

I used to say that this grand, powerful entrance was reflective of her personality. Quiet. Taking everything in. No fussing. No fretting. Just a powerful soul with a killer set of baby blues. Now I am quiet sure I didn't know what I was talking about. Hello, fourteen. It comes right along with a never shut mouth and lots and lots of fretting over things like blue jeans, boots, boys and where in the hell her cellphone has been left this time.

(and she would say)

GAAAAH MOM! DON'T WRITE THAT!

We have reached the years where I am no longer cool. I don't know everything anymore. As a matter of fact, I know nothing at all. Unless of course, I am taking her shopping or ... shopping. Then I know everything. EVERYTHING. AND I AM BEAUTIFUL on those days. Otherwise, I am pretty sure she gets up everyday, looks at me, and wonders how I have made it this far in life - with no sense of style, smarts or knowledge on any subject whatsoever. Ahhhh. It's a good life.

She has her friends. Amazing as she is, beautiful, hilarious friends. They giggle and share clothes and stay up until four am together on a frequent basis. They text and talk and leave their shoes everywhere over here. Football games, Wednesday night church, sleepovers, Starbucks. It's Her time. Her generation. And the best years haven't even gotten here yet.

(and she would say)

GAAAH MOM! DON'T TELL PEOPLE THAT!

She is funny and loud and right in your face. She likes guitars and country music and anything involved with a rebel yell and a midnight good time.... a country girl through and through. Mudbogs, Hank Williams and horses are her secret second life... the one she shares with her loud and crazy wild family.

(and she would say)
GAAAH MOM. THIS IS SO EMBARRASSING.

Fourteen years ago, on this day, I was issued my notice of Career Change. Congratulations. You are are now a Mother. Her mother. Good luck.

Um... is there an instruction manual ?

Human Resources department?

Suddenly, there I was. Baby and all. Nineteen years old. I had no idea what I was doing.

I became a mother when she was born. I have spent everyday since learning how to be a better one. Thankfully, she has stayed on this ride with me.... seatbelt unbuckled the whole time.

And so here we are, at fourteen. Both of us. Accomplishment.

Gratitudes. / The Extra Hour.

2010-11-07T06:55:00.003-05:00

Our house is a busy one. Four children. Two grown-ups. An occasional grandparent or two. The sometimes spaniel. Friends. Tap shoes. Country music. Homework. Hustle bustle.

We are always coming and going. A schedule to keep. Dinner to prepare. Notes to sign. Babies to bathe. Teenager to taxi. Dishes to wash. Sheets to change.

It's called organzied chaos. What time is dance today? Guitar lesson is over when? Who's picking you up? What time will you be home? You need to eat. You need to take out the trash. Please clean your room. Please brush your teeth.

We like it this way. We have grown so accustom to the comings and goings of six people, we often do not know what to do with ourselves when the day ends. I often think it's impossible for Josh and I to find anything interesting on television to watch - because how could a television show possibly compare to what a normal day entails around this place? Seriously. Sitcoms and reality shows ain't got nothin' on us, baby.

I rise earlier than anyone else. If I was a smart woman, I would use this time for laundry folding, or grocery list making. Sometimes I do. Because apparently, sometimes I am a smart woman. Only sometimes. Mostly I use this time just listening to the quiet. Silence amazes me now. Soaking it in recharges my Head of Household Battery.

I am grateful for my quiet hour. The hour before The Toddlers start asking for cookies. The hour before I am asked if these jeans look okay twenty-two times. The hour before Jordin can't find her homework, which is neatly tucked away in her bookbag. The hour before anyone needs breakfast or money or socks. My little quiet hour. Where there is no sound, other than the fire going and the coffeepot brewing.

The. Hour.

And by the time it's over... I am pacing the floor, anxiously awaiting the life - hustle bustle and all - to begin again. I love it this way.

Gratitudes. / Them.

2010-11-05T22:55:00.003-04:00

Halloweened.

2010-10-31T20:38:00.008-04:00

Halloween did not beat us. Trust me, it tried. Very, very hard. We made it home and up the next day in almost one piece. Except for Lauren. Who was in two and a half pieces. We taped her back together though. She's doing better.

I decided to type this post in orange to be festive, just one more time. After this weekend, orange and black goes back to being a bad color combination. Let's enjoy it, just one last time, shall we?

(L2 / Dressed and Ready / October 2010)

Today on the dreaded Facebook, I saw a friend's status that read, "Thank Goodness. Sucktober is Over." I agree. Sucktober. The month itself was decent, but this year, for some reason, Trick or Treating wasn't nearly as fun. It kinda sucked. Maybe it was missing Josh. Afterall, there was no one there to remind me how very late it's getting (at 730) and how our babies won't be taking candy from any strangers. Hmmm.

Maybe it was because They tried to move it to Saturday. Who are They, anyway?

Maybe it was the millions of people that decided to Trick or Treat my favorite, not-so-crowded spot.

Maybe it was missing Sarah Beth and Jordin. They had other, more teenagersish things to do.

Don't know what IT was. But it was definitely missing. I was glad the weekend was over. I am never glad Halloween is over.

(L2 / At Aunt Becky's House / October 2010)

There are a few select things I love about still living in the town where I grew up. One of them is this delicious breakfast and lunch joint we like to call Martins, that serves quite possibly the most delicious biscuits (MADE WITH LARD I MIGHT ADD) and whatever else you can imagine. And for lunch, chili dogs and huge greasy onion rings. If I moved far away, I think I would pay to have it FedExed to me, like, once a week. Ok. Maybe twice a week. Let's just be honest.

What was I saying again? Oh yes. My hometown.

The other thing is the holidays. There is something your small town and the holidays. Trick or Treating tops the list. Walking down the sidewalks - seeing all the people you grew up with - and their kids ... it's the best feeling. Traditions die hard in my heart, I guess. I am sucker for anything that screams MEMORIES. And Trick or Treating downtown is old school trick or treating... the brand that produces candy from every house, complete with scary yard decorations and socializing neighbors.

(Lauren / Cutest Shoes on the Planet / October 2010)

Somebody must've told somebody else. And that person told at least three more people. Andthey all decided to join me. My favorite downtown small town streets were packed full this year. Packed so full it was almost impossible to naviagte the sidewalks. I am sad to say it was not fun.

This did not phase Landon, however. He had figured out the TRICK OR TREAT phrase earlier in the day - and now realized, when paired with holding out your plastic bucket, REAPS REWARDS. BIG SUGARY REWARDS. After two houses, he was in heaven with two suckers in his mouth and a handful of sticky Skittles.

So. We made it. That's my report for you. Lauren didn't sleep until 2am. She was all hyped up on Mountain Dew. No. Not really. She was all hyped up on having just been in a crowd of three million people.... Unless of course she managed to sneak a Mountain Dew in there somewhere. It's always possible, right?

Busy. Busy. Busy.

2010-10-29T08:21:00.006-04:00

If you decide not to read this, it's okay with me. This post is about the equivalent of changing my facebook status to read - the ever popular - "About to Take a Shower." It lacks imagination and creatitvity. And who really needs to know when I am going to take a shower? So. Escape now to more creative things if you have the opportunity. If you don't, then enjoy. Don't say I didn't warn you.

(Please excuse the mattress on the front porch. Mimi is busy moving bedrooms here and there... no one has been asked to sleep on the front porch... YET.)

It's going to be one of "those" weekends. I can feel it in the air. That crisp, cool fall feeling... yeah... it screams CANDY AND TIRED TODDLERS! What a great combination. Indeed. It's Halloween. I am not sure exactly when my calendar got filled to the max this weekend, but I am pretty sure it's directly related to about the same time Josh told me he would have to work through the weekend, out of town. Hooowwww connnnveeenient.

He is sad about missing Trick or Treating with the babies. I am sad about missing my sanity for another few days.

So. Here we go. Diving off into a forty-eight hour span of busy. I will be here on Monday, you can count on that - collapsed and eating bon bons to soothe my nerves. That's not true. I don't even have any bon bons. And if I did, they would be buried under all this laundry that seems to magically never go away.

Check back here frequently this weekend. Cute pictures and updates on my sanity. I promise.

It's not always rainbows and butterflies...

2010-10-27T22:54:00.007-04:00

If you know me... truly know me... you know I am infamous for being a dreaded... "MWC" or, in everyday terms - a Mom. With. Camera. We, collectively, are the downfall of professional photographers everywhere. Indeed. And President Bush is also responsible for 9/11. And there is a thing called Global Warming. Anyway. Let's move on before I "get started", shall we?

I post lovely photos everytime I blog. I have a collection of them waiting to be published, too. In addition to that little factoid, you should also know, that as a part of my sickness, I also have a working list at all times, of photos I want to take FOR my blog. It's a labor of love people. That, or a labor of crazy. Haven't quite decided. I can say, confidently, that I live my everyday life scoping out my surroundings. Always looking for the next perfect backdrop. It annoys my children. But, hey - what doesn't? Just add this to their list of "issues" that therapy will resolve later in their adult lives. We'll call it #24212.

However. In terms of "keepin' it real," i would like to inform you ::SHOCK:: that there are some photos that do not go, shall we say, as planned. They are in a secret vault deep inside my laptop. I save them for days like this, when I a.) feel like embarrassing my teenager... and b.) have nothing more newsworthy to discuss.

(Sarah Beth / 13 years old / October 2010)

This is a photo we take frequently. It's really a genius idea cooked up by my middle schooler, who is more worried about her hair and makeup than about starving children in China. I think it goes along with Middle School in general... but Lord help me, I am just praying we make it through. This picture is called a "Hair Check," in which I take a photo of the teenager, so she can make sure everything, including the tiniest hairs on her head, are in perfect order. To this day, I have been unable to decipher what exactly that perfect order is, as she always looks beautiful and photo-ready to me. But, after all, I am her mother. And we know by law, that means I don't know ANYTHING.

(Sarah Beth and Jordin / 13 and 10 / October 2010)

This is a picture that I would say turned out beautifully, however, has been deemed "YOU BETTER NOT PUT THAT ONE ON FACEBOOK OR YOUR BLOG" by both children. Why? I don't understand. Perhaps it's a hair out of place. Perhaps it's the wrong jeans or the barefeet or ... wait a second... maybe it's the fact that this picture actually almost makes it look as though these two love each other?! WHAT? Jeez. No wonder it's in the vault. Can't have rumors like that getting out to the general public. Afterall, these girls have a reputation to uphold. As you can see, however, here it is, right there for the whole wide internet to gaze at lovingly. That's another lesson, dear sweet children, in the chapter called MAMA ALWAYS WINS.

(Sarah Beth and Jordin / 13 and 10 / October 2010)

I really have no idea what's going on here. I thought it worth putting out there.

(Landon / 24 months / October 2010)

Ok. Let's be honest. I have not one, but TWO toddlers roaming around at all times. They have many, many adorable outfits I do not dress them in - for fear of having them coated in Oreo crumbs and ketchup. Did you know that ketchup goes with Oreos? Yeah. Me neither. Landon, however, says it does. In any case - I keep all their special little outfits hung up nice and neat in the laundry, and only put them in them approximately 1.3 minutes before we walk out the door to any special occasion. I also save them for special photos - like this one - where Landon has obviously become disagreeable. If I remember correctly, his bottom lip started hanging out when I asked him to sit in his Tonka dumptruck. WHYYYYY would I EVVVVVER ask him to do such haneous thing? WHYYYYYY??? And so, shortly thereafter, we took off the fabulous shirt and ran around the yard, getting sweaty and dirty. I did manage ONE picture before that happened. And I don't see the Tonka truck anywhere, do you?

(Lauren / 12 months / October 2010)

I know when you see this picture, you will be shocked and horrified. It's true, I frequently torture my children by taking their photos. FREQUENTLY. I take them out to relatively cool and beautiful places and sit them in terrible places like the above, and wait on the snakes and spiders to take over. That's not actually true, so please don't call Child Services. Usually, these plans go quite well - everyone cooperates - and we move along our merry way. But not always. Sometimes I make them miss dinner, or sit on the ground when a Big. Scary. Four. Wheeler! is only a few feet away. The above photo is a result of Lauren's One Year pictures.... with that terrible four wheeler in her midst. TAKE IT AWAY MOMMY! TAKE IT AWAY! However, minutes later, I realized that indeed, as long as she could sit ON the four wheeler, the world was her oyster.

Can't win for losing sometimes. I have just learned to celebrate the losses. I even take pictures of them.

How Magic Happens.

2010-10-26T06:44:00.010-04:00

(all the amazing photos in this post were taken and edited by my talented friend Lori... one of JLo's many Backup Mamas. She was there on Saturday when I wasn't... and truly captured the "spirit" of these girls better than I have ever seen done before... enjoy.)

Jordin has been taking dance lessons since she was three years old. At a lovely studio right here in our hometown. A lovely studio situated right in quaint little downtown. A lovely studio operated by an even more lovely and fabulous woman, with whom I totally credit with 50% of who my child is. I happen to have a photo of her wearing snakes on her head and some eygptian makeup, but I will spare her the internet.

In the early days, she taught Jordin how to shuffle step and shimmy. I do not credit her with teach Jordin how to lose tights, tap shoes and all other means of dancewear. This is all Jordin. It's a special talent that came with her at birth. Any by "special," I mean anything but. It goes right long with the famous WHERE IS MY HOMEWORK and OMG I CAN'T FIND ANY SHOES. You get the idea.

What was I saying again? Oh yes. Dance.

*not sure what JLo has found under her nails here, but I can assure you it is not anything good

Being a "Dance Mama" has its ups and downs. There is ususally some drama stirring about ... like every good situation where a bunch of women and their children are involved. There are the days when the ballet shoe is missing - and cannot be found, despite turning everything in your home upside down. There are the days when you arrive two hours late or two hours early - just because you couldn't pull it all together. There is always a piece of required jewelry missing.... and we never have the right tights for the occasion... that's pink for ballet - tan for everything else... just in case you might have been wondering. There is alot of hair curling, fake eyelash applying, and I am certain a cloud of hairspray and glitter hovers over the dance studio at all times. Sadly, I now have a small container of glitter that resides permanently in my purse. In case of glitter emergency. It's a sign of my veteran status.

Veteran?

Oh yes. You can tell the difference. New dance mamas are always amazed by what we 'Vets' will pull out of our purse in case of dire emergency. Usually, we can be found with at least two extra pairs of tights, a bevy of false eyelashes, extra QTips, a spare tube of lipstick, miniature sewing kit, nerve medication and a dose of sanity. Those last two are our little secret though. We learned from those that came before us. Because, at that very last second, when you can feel your 'last nerve' bidding you aideu, and you are finishing up the lettering on your "THIS CHILD IS FREE" sign, it's always nice to have another mommy there to soothe you. Maybe you just need a Diet Coke.

*notice that Poppy (far left) stays perfectly composed as her friend hits the ground... ahhh... professionalism... it always comes before friendship in this business...

In the years since we started tapping and twirling professionally, we have met many friends and enjoyed sharing the stage with all of them. There are years, however, that are more memorable than others, for a litany of reasons. Occasionally, in this parallel universe we call "DANCE", you hit a streak of perfection and chemistry that cannot be denied. A bit of emotion, togetherness, friendship and perfection that is tangible. Visible. Obvious. In a word... undeniable. We have had a couple of these that stand out over the past seven years. A year where everything just... happens.

This is one of those years.

*this is actually part of their newest routine, however, it is a picture that defines the three of them beyond words.

Indeed. It is one thing to have friends at school - friends at church or anywhere else. It is entirely another thing to have friends who share your passion for something... friends who express themselves exactly as you do... friends that move gracefully across a stage in unison with you.... friends who know, too, what Foot Panties are. These girls have found their perfect place. It just happens to be together. On a stage, With spotlights. You must have the spotlights. It's why they signed up for this whole deal in the first place. That, and foot panties. With zebra stripes.

And I happily realize, when they are together - my world is complete. Watching them do what they do... whether it's tap or twirl or sprinkle glitter on their eyes... I am content. It will be a "good year" for them... lots of awards - lots of recognition. But that's not what's most important.

They spend three days a week together not only perfecting their technical skill - but planning who will be what Teletubby on Halloween. Or who will be what kind of nerd. Or who can come over to who's house and when and for how long. Or what color their new pair of foot panties should be.

And if you can't talk about THAT with your girlfriends, who you gonna talk about it with?

It's gonna be a great year. Just buckle up.

Extreme Shallowness. Evolved.

2010-10-22T07:01:00.005-04:00

It's funny how time changes things in our lives.

For example, four years ago, the best compliment I thought I had ever received was something about some silly wedding invitation order. If I spelled everything correctly, checked your wedding date for accuracy thirty-one times, and got everything printed in the right color ink, on the right paper, then life was good. If you, the bride, acknowledged this labor of love, then I had arrived. I am not sure where, but arrived all the same. After years of working with them, I can honestly and accurately tell you that brides don't dish out the compliments often. When they do take notice of your blood, sweat and tears, you scoop them up and befriend them for life. Yeah. Four years ago, my job was my life. It brought me happiness and fufillment. That sounds as silly to read as it does to type. Just trust me and keep reading, ok? I promise, it gets less shallow as you continue.

A couple of months ago, the best compliment I ever received (I guess I keep up with these things in case of emergency on my blog... when I really need something to talk about that might be entertaining) was from one of Jordin's sweetest friends. She walked into my house, curls bouncing, looked around, and said, "WOW! This looks just like something right out of Country Living!" For those of you who might not know, Country Living is a magazine here in the ... country...is equivalent to "Southern Living," or "Coastal Living," etcetera. For us southern girls, it's the bible of style for your home. It's like telling me that OH! Rachael! You must have lost fifty pounds, because you look SO SKINNY! I am usually reserved about my house - it is, after all, 125 years old (yes, I am not kidding) has no real closets to speak of, and not one hallway. Our house doesn't look like the ones in the neighborhoods or even the ones that were built you know, fifty years ago. If I had impressed even one small person when they walked in to my living room, then I must be doing 1/32 of something right. I mean, COUNTRY LIVING? Yes, please. I continued to basque in this glory right up until yesterday, when I carefully arranged 18 miniature pumpkins on my mantel in the dining room. Hey. I have a standard to keep up with. And you never know when the photographer might knock at my door and demand a photoshoot in my house. I won't be holding my breath. I will however, be hiding stacks of folded laundry.

However. Just the other day, I received the compliment that ices the cake of my life. With buttercream frosting. A new friend had just dropped off my teenager, and came inside for a brief tour of The Farmhouse. On this tour, I might mention, I am frequently known to be shoving aside baby toys with my feet - and during this particular one, I had left Jordin to supervise both babies, who were recreating the Nile in my bathroom. As our tour concluded (yes, I even showed her the flood damage in the kitchen ceiling - just keepin' it real, ya'll) I needed to excuse myself... "I have left Jordin with BOTH babies in the bathtub...." And. Just then. The response that made me turn on my heels. "OH," she said, "I didn't know you had TWO babies!" Well then. You didn't? You mean to say you didn't notice the stack of sippy cups in my sink? You mean that the spilled diaper bag at the front door didn't give it away? What's that? You can't tell that for the past two days, I haven't had a shower? Well. Well. Well.

And that's when I realized, at age 32... mother of four children... two of those toddlers... that I had truly... arrived. Who really cares about wedding invitations or the pages of a magazine? It turns out I just might have this motherhood thing under control. Even if only barely. Straight to my head. Yep. That was my ego you just heard inflating. What was that slogan we used to hear for Virgina Slims cigarrettes? "You've come a long way, baby."

Let's just not ask any of the children for their opinion. Mmmmkay? This is not a democracy, after all.

The Day Before The World Changed Forever.

2010-10-16T05:34:00.006-04:00

It's a day that we sometimes forget. Or find ourselves too busy too remember the signifigance of... a day that is almost as special as the birthday itself.... the day right before you become a parent... a mother or a father. The day just before your world goes from all about "you," to entirely about someone else. You have loved before... but not like this.

The last, magical hours before you realize that you now share a bite of every meal you eat with someone else... a sip of whatever you have to drink with someone else. The last day that you will know nothing about subjects you will quickly become and expert on, including Which Sippy Cups are Best, Poop Schedules and Favorite Brand of Diapers. Soon enough, these topics will be ones you can have lengthy, valid disucssions about with others. And love every minute of it. But. For now, in these wee hours, you are still blissfully oblivious.

The Day Before Your Firstborn. The last day of the rest of your "life." The last day of life as you knew it. The last day before you develop a mini version of yourself. The last day before you have someone following your every step during the day, dragging your tools around right behind you. The last day before you gain a lifelong "helper" . The last day that you will reach down, and not find a hand reaching up for yours.

The final moments when you will not have someone "in between" in your bed. When you will have only grown-up books on your bedside table. When you will reach over to turn out the light and NOT knock over three sippy cups and two bottles. When cracker crumbs won't be all over your clothes when you arrive for a job interview. When your favorite authors are not Holly Hobbie or Eric Carle.

It's pretty special. The last day. Maybe we could celebrate this day every year... a tribute to life before parenthood. A tribute to those long, uninterrupted nights of sleep... the days BEFORE Bob the Builder dominated our television... the times when we could go anywhere we wanted without a diaper bag. We could get a cake or copious amounts of alcohol and toast the days that Used To Be Us. But we're probably too tired. And really, who wants a celebration of any kind without both of Them? What's cake and fun without Landon and Lauren?

So. Here we are. On this, most important day... right before your life changed forever. Watching you "become" who you "are" over the past two years has been one of the best things I have ver been priviliged enough to witness. And somehow, despite all the fun and naps and days of doing whatever we wanted ... I know you wouldn't change a thing... . And that is worth every second we have spent without sleep.

Well. Almost.

The Proper Way to Say Thank You

2010-10-13T05:22:00.009-04:00

It's early. Already working on my second cup of coffee, and listening to the rain. The house is dark and still quiet - which should only last - according to my calculations - for approximately sixty or so more minutes. Sleep? Sure. I could be using my time wisely... however, apparently, my family thinks I am popular - and wants to know WHEN! I will update my blog again... and alas... this is what I am willing to sacrifice ... all in the name of family. When I need a serious nap later, I am sure I will be calling one of them to volunteer their babysitting time.

Tomorrow is Lauren's first birthday. Hard to imagine it's been a year. Hard to not say all the things I would like to pour out about her today, instead of waiting patiently until tomorrow. My little (well, not exactly) preemie baby girl... who I was sure would just never want to leave the comforts of the NICU ... will be one tomorrow. She is currently the most hilarious part of my day. She has learned to nod her head "yes" in response to anything you say to her... apparently, she is going to be an INCREDIBLY agreeable child. Let's not hold our breath on that one.

This is the first year in TWO that I haven't spent the next week tucked away in the NICU. And, like any good southern girl, I have decided to show my appreciate to the nursing staff there this weekend with breakfast. Food is ALWAYS the way to celebrate, or in this case, show gratitude in the south. I think we invented the Potluck. So if I ever send you a casserole, or a box of cookies, you know you've done something right.

(Lauren, looking rather disgruntled... and might I mention, VERY dirty)

In this case, for the nurses...

THANK YOU FOR MY TWO SWEET TODDLERS... HERE ARE SOME DOUGHNUTS AND COFFEE.

or perhaps

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR SENDING US ON OUR WAY... PLEASE ENJOY THESE BISCUITS.

and not to forget

WE REALLY APPRECIATE YOU NOT KICKING US OUT THE FIRST TIME.... HAVE SOME BAGELS.

I called the nurses there the other day, in preparation to take them breakfast this weekend, and asked if they had a room ready for us... afterall, I think we earned a plaque on the wall or something there, right?

::in honor of those who acted really silly and overemotional about their babies learning to drink a bottle::
::in honor of those who had not one, but TWO babies here in the course of a year::
::in honor of those who were TOLD not to bring baby clothes from home, but did anyway::
::in honor of those who STILL love the smell of hand sanitizer all thanks to the NICU::

Now, those are just a few of my suggestions to commemorate myself and my offspring there. Truthfully, I should be sending those nurses breakfast everyday, for the rest of my life. I owe them. Not just for the general wellness and good health of my babies... but for being the "staff" that sent me on the way to being who I was meant to be my entire life... a mama. For teaching me not to a single breath for granted... and for showing me that couting my blessings is a daily requirement. And so are biscuits.

Her.

2010-10-12T01:23:00.006-04:00

(from Kelle Hampton's blog, "Enjoying the Small Things")

I don't know how I got here. And by here, I mean this peak of the mountain that seemed so daunting. Oh, I know there are more mountains. Bigger ones, yes. But the one I'm standing on seemed so big, so insurmountable, so lonely, and now that I'm standing here, I have to tell you...it's exactly where I'm supposed to be.

The Nightlife Baby....

2010-10-12T00:59:00.003-04:00

I do my best work at three a.m. . My best work, creatively speaking. I probably don't do my best work where let's say, laundry, is concerned at this particular hour. Come to think of it, I wouldn't say there IS an hour where I do my best laundry work. I can only imagine that my two teenagers think I am insane and stay up all night... in addition to thet other examples of my insanity that I provide them with on a daily basis. I wonder if one of them is making a list... "reasons why we are sure our mom is insane." Whew. Let's hope not.

Truthfully... I am so tired at 930 p.m. every night I can barely hold my eyes open. I have been known to fall asleep with the laptop on and humming away - three of four or seven photos open in photoshop... two or three or six blogs open to read. Josh nudges me awake and tells me I have been snoring or some other malarky, and I drag myself to bed. We all know I don't snore. Josh, he lies. But that's besides the point.

Then. In a flurry that I cannot explain, somewhere between the hours of 1230 and 330, I wake up with about a million ideas on my brain... all of which MUST be addressed, despite the hour. Ideas that do not include anything to do with grocery lists or yearbook money or teacher conferneces. Ideas that are juicy and delightful and need a box of markers or a keyboard to complete. Good ideas. Ideas that I need to talk about. Ideas I need to TELL someone... and since Josh is usually snoring (sometimes I think he confuses HIS snoring with mine) I find the internet is my friend. I think if the rest of the world got up at various ungodly hours of the night to flesh out all their creativity, the world would be a happier, less disgruntled place.

And. Let's face it. The internet? She is obviously a woman. First off, she doesn't snore. Second, she listens to everything I have to say without nodding off or changing the subject. I love her.

Thoughts on Crazy.

2010-09-26T10:25:00.000-04:00

I haven't spoken to my sister in over a year. We had a falling out ... the kind that has caused me to move ahead, without looking back. It was very hard at first - almost like mourning someone who had died. I don't think it gets any "easier," but I certainly have learned how to keep on going. I could go on and on ... but that's not the point.

The fork in the road came early last year- when I read a comment on her Facebook page - hoping she'd never go "crazy like her sister and have kids." Oh, don't be alarmed. It goes MUCH further and deeper than that - moreso than a blog entry would allow... but that pretty much sums it up. Not to worry. I know I need a good therapist. I am still proud of her and her accomplishments. We just pretend we don't know each other now. Yes. It's superhard. But that's another story.

So for the past year, I have been thinking alot about what it means to be crazy.

Crazy. Hmm. Here is what I have decided....

I have waited thirty-one years to find my Crazy. It turns out, crazy is the most blissful, joyful time of my life. I celebrate every day... every day full of sippy cups, dirty diapers, jars of baby food, teenage attitude and missing dance shoes. I talk about missing dance shoes alot in my life. That is because there is always one missing. Indeed. That's another post for another time, and I think I have decided my ten year old is grounded. Ahh... I do love writing.

Crazy is the best thing that has ever happened to me... Crazy means morning walks pulling a two-seater wagon behind me... holding hands with not only my best friend - but my soulmate. Crazy means taking two girls to the mall shopping, only to wonder midway through if I will survive until we reach the car. Crazy means planning matching outfits and Christmas photos. Crazy means grocery lists, meal plans, clean kitchen floors and oh yes, setting the DVR to record episodes of "The Young and the Restless," which I will not be able to sit down and watch for at least a month. So no spoiling.

Crazy is not as glamorous as I might have imagined... it has meant one pair of flip flops this summer rather than twelve... it has meant less haircuts and color... being okay with the now noticeable gray hairs... and onl one bathing suit, which does not make me look any skinnier. (Sigh) I have less purses now. And I think I am okay with that. For now.

Crazy ?

Crazy is a schedule for six people that runs like clockwork. Crazy is holding it together when someone doesn't take a nap or eat a meal as planned. It's the seven loads of laundry my teenager brings to the clean laundry room stating she has 'cleaned" her room. It's the eight shirts I find, folded and and unworn, in her dirty clothes basket. Crazy are the hours at my house from five p.m. until approximatley eight p.m., when all children must somehow be fed, bathed, taxied, picked up, dropped off, reassured and tucked in. Simultaneously. THAT is some kinda crazy.

Crazy is looking back at the end of each day, when my head crashes to the pillow, and laughing. Because really, we have no idea how we survive everyday.

Crazy has taught me about what the super important things in life are... and what they aren't. Crazy has taught me that love and life are not always perfect. Both are complicated and filled with impossible choices and decisions. At the end of the day, the best we can do is look back and not regret anything. It has taught me that families and siblings are far from perfect and that my world is far from fairytale. Crazy hurts. Crazy laughs. Crazy smiles. Crazy cries.

But.

When I hear the sounds of happy - the ones that come from the dinner table when the babies are clapping and singing, when the teenager is asking about her thirteenth outfit change, when the ten year old is recounting her most recent boy drama... I am reassured that "crazy" is a fabulous place to find myself in every. single. day.

Dreaming.

2010-09-25T03:40:00.004-04:00

This could be the cutest thing I have ever seen a Mama think of... and we Mamas are pretty dang creative... most especially with naptime... but now, well.. I just feel silly and boring...

While on maternity leave, Adele Enersen came up with this little project to keep herself busy... imaging what her baby girl might be dreaming about.

Hmmm. I still think Lauren's dreams might include plans to take over the world. I'm pretty sure Landon, on the other hand, keeps it simple... he's dreaming about tractors driven by Teddy Grahams.

You can see more of her project here. Enjoy. Meanwhile, I think I might go and try to save the world.

Spring.

2010-09-24T13:37:00.001-04:00

... and they are my sweet babies. Fat. Happy. Usually chewing up something they shouldn't be.

Things we go through a lot of...

2010-09-24T13:00:00.000-04:00

A list.

Diapers. Hello. Two babies. Need I say more?
Wipes. Purchased by the case, on a weekly basis.
Hairspray. Would anyone like to discuss the effects teenagers are having on the Ozone?
Attitude. Check at the door. Or, you can always opt to check it AFTER you realize you won't be leaving the house FOR QUITE SOME TIME.
Gas. My taxi service runs for several hours every day. And still, no one leaves a tip.
Socks. My house eats them. I am certain there is a second dimension out there, where single socks party all night and mock our every load of laundry.
Laundry. Good. Grief. I think that about sums it up.
Coffee. One cannot care for six people without the AUTO BREW option.
Milk.
I would like to intercept here, just so you can feel the aura that surrounds my life - that - as I sit by the open window to write - I can hear the blissful sounds of my two older girls SCREAMING at each other in their outside tent... over what blanket they are going to use. And yet everyone wonders why I don't update the blog frequently... GOOD. TIMES.
The Wiggles. Heaven help us.
iCarly. (see above)
Homemade salsa.
Canned cinnamon rolls. Pillsbury.
Bacon. Lots of Bacon.
Bleach. Must keep floors sanitary for crawling one year old.
Plastic cups and plates. Don't think I'm washin' all these dishes.
Cold Beer. It takes up an annoying amount of room in my smallish fridge. But it keeps The Man happy in a houseful of estrogen. I just prefer the stronger stuff. The quicker the better, I say.
Batteries. I don' t my toys lit up and sang nearly as much as these do.
Country Music. My teenager and man are avid music listeners.
Hip Hop Music. My pre-teen is an avid ... something.
The internet. Thank god for Wi-Fi. Otherwise, there could be no Facebook.
Nerves. This should probably be number one.
Cusswords. Come to think of it, if we had a Cuss Jar, we'd be even more broke than we are now. Shhh. Don't mention that.
Great Ideas. One must have them frequently and often to make it 'round here.
Gratitudes. Frequent reminders of how blessed we truly are, despite all the above.

What's on your list ?

Return.

2010-09-22T18:41:00.001-04:00

It has been decided that I should return to blogging. So here I am. Returning. Watching the babies play outside... counting my blessings.

Home.

2010-07-18T21:30:00.002-04:00

We have arrived safely home, with all four children... or at least at last count we had them all.

No one came home sunburned or sick, and our suitcases were filled with clean laundry.

The car is officially unpacked and back to the regular business of family life, including grocery store trips and midnight "holy-shit-we-are-out-of-diapers" runs.

Pictures and final thoughts to come. And I might even update my banner.

Maybe.

Vacation 2010... Day Two.

2010-07-12T15:29:00.005-04:00

Around eleven or so ... we dumped Landon in the sand on the beach. We washed all the sand off of him around four. Lauren ingested most of hers. What she didn't eat herself - Landon fed to her by the handful. He worked steadily for hours filling up the back of a plastic dumptruck Mimi bought him. When he was done with that, he fed Lauren a little more. What can I say? She must look hungry or something.

Occasionally, Josh and I took turns carrying them down to the water to rinse them off... I guess once Landon had a complete earful we felt it necessary for appearances.

He ate sandy Nilla wafers for lunch, and drank a bottle full of sandy water. By golly, we will NOT help him eat ... NO SIR. Sandy crackers you say, Landon? Okay then. Dig in buddy.

All is well and sunny. Teen and Preteen are still among the living.

Vacation 2010. Day One.

2010-07-11T08:20:00.004-04:00

Note. We survived the 5.5 hour ride down to the Georgia coast. I think this can be attributed to the following...

a minivan crammed so full of everything that Sarah Beth said, "Did we pack our whole house?"
four kids. two in carseats.
The Best of Elmo 2.
Sarah Beth's iPod, on loan from her dad - fully loaded with every song you can imagine. She didn't say five whole words on the way down.
Josh driving. There is no possible way I would have driven one mile when I had the opportunity to BACKSEAT DRIVE for about 300 miles. Seriously. I am a GREAT backseat driver.

On Raising a Jordin (*or Jordan)

2010-07-03T21:50:00.013-04:00

This is written for my dear friend, Lisa. Really, it's written for Lisa and her hubby. In a few short months, they will deliver their first baby girl. Her name will be Jordan. I just thought I might post a few words to let them know what they're getting themselves into. Buckle up, Pims. Buckle. Up.

What's in a name? The name "Jordan" (or, in our case, "Jordin") comes from the Hebrew Yarden meaning "one which descends" or "to flow down." Let's face it. It's the name of the most popular river in the Bible. Where a whole lotta famous biblical types got baptized. Including some dude named Jesus. I didn't even know that til I searched it just now on Wikipedia. Even though I promise I paid attention in Sunday School. That's research, people. Research.

I must inform you that this also means you will be naming your daughter (sweet little cherub that she will be) one of the most popular boy / girl names in the book. Don't expect to get to Pre-K and be the one and only "Jordan". Soon enough, as we do, you will have friends named Jordan. Lots of them. We have to refer to them by last name to keep up.

So. After ten relatively successful years of rearing - here's what we came up with. Curly headed (oh don't be fooled, it's tootally a perm), usually wearing sequins, not afraid to wear a tutu in public... Jordin. So far, so good. We don't go anywhere these days without a purse and a makeup pouch and possibly a spare outfit - just in case the occasion should arise to change clothes... which I should mention, she is prepared to do ANYWHERE. I guess this shows "preparation." That or I would say it pretty much screams, "DIVA!" Thus far, we have refused her a cell phone or personal assistant. Even though all the cool kids have them.

How did we arrive here? Oh come on, she was the BABY GIRL. We let her wear her "Jazmine" costume everywhere when she was three - including to the grocery store. We bought her barbies and hairbows, purses and plastic shoes. Her first pair of red sparkly "Dorothy" shoes? Yeah. She wore those everyday (no kidding) for two years. Right up until her toe poked through the front. And when that happened... who was the mommy running to every Target in the state of Georgia looking for another pair? Who?!?

More importantly, we let her be her. And if that mean tucking her underwear into the back of her Jazmine pants... so be it.

At some point, the child put on a pair of dance shoes. And she hasn't taken them off since. Ballet, tap, jazz... as long as there is music and some sort of costume involved, we're there. I kept waiting on this trend to pass... on her to become interested in soccer or karate or wrestling ... but alas, I kept on buying dance shoes.

When she was four, she started singing showtunes. Her first one was "Copacabana," to which she knew every. single. word. She sang it once to the entire city of Hiram while Mimi waited in line at the post office. Not kidding. We started calling her "JLola." We've since moved on to the "Wicked" soundtrack.

I came into the living room one day when she was six and discovered her watching a JLo video... one in which JLo recreates the whole "Flashdance" thing. And there was my Jordin, with her own chair, mimicking every single shake of the hips. I knew then that our dance career had BETTER take us to Broadway... and not anywhere else... IF you know what I mean. And henceforth, she became JLo.

So now I have a child who taps her feet during dinner, breaks into random twirls (sorry...don't know the fancy ballet word for that, J) in the aisles of WalMart... one who loves Michael Jackson music as much as she loves Lady Gaga and Madonna... and one who wasn't afraid to spray paint her tap shoes day-glo pink for the talent show this year. And as for me... I have to keep myself stashed with extra pairs of false eye lashes... copious amounts of purple eyeshadow... and a checkbook that screams in agony if we come within two miles of the dancewear store. Trade it? For nothing.

Embrace what she loves. It will embrace you.

This really doesn't fit any where else... just more proof that the desire for fake hair started early. It's still going strong.

Jlo is a dreamer of the First Order. A "head in the clouds" kinda child. This means she has an amazing imagination, sense of creativity ... and has no idea where a pair of matching shoes are... EVER. This is the child who you need to say "JORDIN!" to at dinner to make sure she is still on Planet Earth with us. We have learned to adapt. I can predict with great certainty that despite all means of preparation, she has no idea where one sandal is or the top to her bathing suit at all times. None. However, there is something to be said for dreaming big. Currently, her plan when she becomes old enough is to move "with her best friends to NYC," where they will all attend Juliard or maybe NYU and "live in a condo." Oh! And when college is over?!? Well then. It's back to Hiram - with all the BFFs in tow - to open her own dance school. Naturally.

Celebrate who she is. She will celebrate you.

Oh. She cartwheeled for like, a year solid. No kidding. It was a problem. I am not sure if this comes with the territory or not of being a "Jordin," however... I felt you should be warned.

And regarding the above picture - I cannot be held responsible for her choice of outfits or hairstyle. I can only promise that at least once a year, possibly twice, you will have to come up with an outfit that celebrates Dr. Seuss and / or be called to the school because she is violation of the dress code. What do principals know about fashion anyway? As you can see, all her friends are doing it.

So, it is my hope - that as you come to her teenage years, (as I am fast approaching with my own) you will realize what a wonderful, amazing, talented, creative child you have raised... all because she got to be who she is... Jordin. (or Jordan or Jordyn or ... you get the idea)

And there she is. Jordin. In a nutshell. Or a blog post. Or whatever.

I dream that your own will be as amazing.

A Case Study.

2010-06-25T10:00:00.000-04:00

Having two babies in the home, less than one year apart, mind you, makes for

a.) many, many raised eyebrows.
b.) frequently being asked if we "know how this happened"
c.) wonder and amazement of "how we do it"

Jeez. You'd think we're The Duggars. If that's the case, by the way, I would like a reality show and an industrial size kitchen complete with soda fountain. Immediately. Oh! And one of those passenger vans. Just have them delivered. Thanks.

Let's address those raised eyebrows. Hello, have you seen babies before? We're feeding and clothing them. They get a bath a least once a month and we even occasionally change their diapers. Trust me, they're well taken care of. Sometimes, we even feed Lauren solid foods. And who cares that Landon's favorite food is a hot dog? Who?! We even buy the "All Beef" ones just to make it more nutritious. It's us adults you should be worried about... I now consider two bites of leftover baby food a meal and think that sleeping for a solid six hours at night is just like having a week-long vacation in Fiji. I sort Lego blocks for fun and have Elmo on my bedside table. It's quite a life.

In case you might be wondering if we know how "this" happened... actually, yes. We do. We're quite proud of it. We enjoy telling the story at parties. Have you heard of this? Impeccable timing, right? And to make it better, Lauren, always in on our master plan, even showed up eight whole weeks early just to make it that much more fun. WOO!! Don't get me wrong. We "know" how "it" happened. I think the next time someone asks me that, I am going to answer. In simple, plain English. Just for kicks. Prepare yourself.

"How" do we do it? Indeed. At age thirty, we started "over" with not one, but two babies. Fortunately for me, Josh had a SuperDad cape hanging in his closet. He wears it everyday. He never told me he had it. Whew. What a surprise. Fortunately for him, I happen to be a decent cook and don't mind folding laundry and changing the poopie diapers. (Side note : IS there a correct way to spell "poopie"?) We managed to survive two months of colic (read : screaming, lots and lots of screaming) and pretty much decided after that, we could do anything. Leap tall buildings, build bombs out of a pencil and a paperclip, and yes, even raise our children. "How" is still pretty much a mystery - we're pretty sure it has something to do with this whole "Teamwork" idea. Don't tell him I said that. I wouldn't want him to know he was right about anything.

This is my Father's Day Card.

2010-06-20T05:26:00.012-04:00

I know, I know. You've missed me. After I became addicted to Facebook, I just stopped blogging altogether. It's a crying shame really. Oh, how I have missed these early (note: 4 am) wake up calls to squeeze out several paragraphs. Nowadays, I guess a blog post is more akin to a reallllly long Facebook status. Oh well. If you're here... might as well enjoy it.

Dear Joshua.

Father's Day is here. Your second official one, really. The second one you have spent celebrating your own flesh and blood, and all the insanity they have brought into your life. Sleepless nights, throw-up, poop (lots of poop!), tears, fevers, sleepless nights, and other general insanity. What a life! Who signed you up for this again? Oh ! Wait. Nevermind.

So. Here you are. In the midst of the greatest adventure of your life thus far. Two babies. Less than a year apart. Is your hair thinning on top? Just askin'. Diapers. Bottles. Not even knowing what it means to sleep until daylight on a weekend morning. After all, if we did that, we might miss one of thirty-two episodes of "The Wiggles." And that, according to Landon, would be a crying shame. I think for revenge, I might just teach Lauren to like Barbies. Lots and lots of barbies. Barbies with pink clothes and pink corvettes and sharp plastic hands that stab you right in the foot when you stumble through Baby's room in the darkness. Indeed. Sweet, sweet revenge.

And, for being thrown into these shoes almost overnight... you've done a pretty good job. Of course, that's mostly in part to the fact that you know everything about everything.... so, therefor, parenting comes soooo "naturally" to you. Puke. My favorite thing that you say to me regarding parenting this brood is... "I've just never seen anything like Sarah." Dude. When was the last time your raised a teenager? Jussssst checkin'. When it comes to the preteen and teenage set, you seem to have it (*mostly) under control too. They stick with you like glue. Did I mention that know-it-all's get on my nerves?

And so, for good measure. to handicap your perfection-style parenting, I threw Lauren into the mix.Seriously, what's one more baby around here? Lord have mercy on our souls. Thank God for bottles of good tequila and it being a free country and all. Otherwise, we might not have survived her first three, colicky months of life. And, after all this time we've spent falling incredibly in love with her big blue eyes, you will won't change her dang stinky diapers. I don't get it.

So. I am writing this today to say - you're doing an amazing job. Thank you for working hard, providing, and loving everyone in this crazy house we live in. I seriously have no idea how you're doing it. Good drugs? Good family? Must be something. <3

Video Killed the Radiostar. And Facebook killed my blog.

2010-04-27T21:52:00.002-04:00

On What Works. And well.

2009-07-23T11:22:00.003-04:00

Managing the ins and outs of two daughters is a full time job. It requires you to be constantly on your toes, on step ahead, and always prepared with a Plan B, or C, or even Z. No one tells you when you become a parent that there will come a day when you realize your sweet darlings have not outsmarted you, but hello, they've done it WELL. It goes right along with that whole thing your mother tells you about "reaping what you've sown." Whatever THAT means.

As Sarah Beth has grown, matured, and developed a mouth that will stop traffic, I have struggled with exactly how to "impress" her with my Mother status. Sending her to her room is not nearly as effective as it was when I was a child... and taking away privileges never seems to last long enough for her to care.... and grounding her? No problem. She'll happily spend that entire two weeks in her room.

A challenge, to say the least.

Jordin, on the other hand, is easily impressed. Sending her to her room is a death sentence, and entails lots of stomping and huffing and puffing. Little effort required to make lasting impression. Just the kind of kid we all dream about. Not to say she's better or easier than Sarah... just in this one way I am allowed to push the big fat EASY button I was issued when I became a mother. Trust me, one doesn't use it often.

This week, the girls are away at their dad's house... an entire week of having their own bedrooms, visiting with Grammy and acting camp. A total vacation from my dictatorship. They have been shopping and painting and gnoshing on delicious Grammy food, I am certain.

All this being said about all the wonderfulness of Dad's House and all, you can imagine my sheer delight when my conversation with him this morning turned to discuss a little bickering that had been going on between Sarah and Jordin. WHAT? THEY BICKER POINTLESSLY? ARE YOU SEEEEERIOUS?

After eavesdropping momentarily, Jim, in all his calm, collected glory (this is the place where I would have been screaming and telling them to both pack a bag for their move to Abudabe) decided to sit each child down and hear their side of the story. This is where Jim is so much better than I am. And I mean that.

Jordin got to speak first, and wove a tale of name-calling and hurt feelings that would surely make anyone shed a tear. Afterwards, Sarah Beth was allowed to admit to or deny Jordin's accusations. She of course forgot that she could plead the fifth, and admitted to the name-calling and "I hate you"ing. From this point forward, she was doomed to a fate beyond anything I could have ever dreamed up.

First, Jim promised that he would be punishing her for the "I hate you" comment, since, as a family (albeit a dysfunctional one) we've decided that's pretty much off limits. This is where it gets good... while he did promise punishment, he let her know he'd be thinking about it for a while before he decided. I imagine that SB must have been sweating real live bullets all day long. Nothing is worse than knowing a punishment is pending.

In the end, Jim decided on a good ole fashioned lecture. What could be worse, after all, than making her sit still and listen to her father for almost fifteen minutes straight? Dude. Why I haven't I thought of this before? Futher, she was required to write a letter of apology to Jordin, including WHY she was sorry for saying such hurtful things, and including a list of reasons WHY Sarah loves Jordin.

And the best part of all? The final draft of the letter? Oh yeah. It had to be GRAMMY approved.

Notes to self : get Grammy on speed dial. Also. Catch up with Jim on the whole "get your goat" side of parenting. Quickly.

An Open Letter to My Cousin Mandy.

2009-07-22T20:06:00.009-04:00

Dear Cousin Mandy,

Thank you for calling me "Chubs." It's much better than what my Mimi calls me, which is "La La." If I could throw something at her when she says this, I certainly would. However, all I can do right now is take it and ignore her.

And you're right. It's okay that I like my pink rubber duck better than the blue one. Real men DO wear pink, afterall. I knew we would get along.

By the way, thanks for letting me eat your sunglasses. What?! I am supposed to wear them? That's dumb. Why would anyone want to do that?

Don't forget about me when you go back to Charlotte. I'll need someone to teach me about theater and fashion and good books.

Love,

Mr. Chubs.

PS.

2009-07-19T17:46:00.001-04:00

I am thinking of just one more extra blog... one that will chronicle my adventures in cooking, as Jordin recently reported that we eat out often here, but only because I am not a good cook.

Oh really? We'll just see about that.

Staycation.

2009-07-19T17:40:00.003-04:00

Oh, the perils of mothering a teenager.

The girls are away this week. With their dad for a week of Drama Camp, painting and decorating their new, shiny bedrooms at his new house.

It's Sunday afternoon, after all, time for them to be home and our weekly trip to Zaxby's. Where are they already?

And, whilst I surely will enjoy the quiet time.... I miss them already.

Heck. So much I just used the word "whilst."

That's sayin' something.

Gratuitous Fat Baby Fix.

2009-07-13T14:44:00.002-04:00

(Landon in houseboat sink... barely squeezing himself in)

Enjoy the fat rolls. We do. That's 24 pounds of lovin' right there.

Housekeeping.

2009-07-10T22:25:00.003-04:00

(Some baby resembling Landon with incredibly dirty face. SURELY not Landon)

Dear Lord. I have truly fallen behind on more than just my laundry.

I updated my little links list to the right... enjoy.

Proof they still live....

2009-07-10T21:51:00.006-04:00

In a rare moment of clean faces and clothing. I won't even tell you what kind of fool I was actin' to get that smile outta Landon.

The Journey of a thousand miles....

2009-07-04T23:09:00.001-04:00

Meet the newest cousin... Journey Annabelle.

Littlest sister to Damien, Jazmine and Jackson.

I was special enough to be present for her official grand entrance... I even cut the cord.

And I told her, one day, sixteen or so years from now, when her mommy pisses her off, she can just call me.

Live Blogging. Just to surprise you.

2009-06-13T22:06:00.002-04:00

Oh. Hi. You mean, I haven't BLOGGED in over a month? I've missed TWO Landon monthly letters? Yes. I admit. I am both a bad mommy and a bad blogger. At least I can admit it.

Truthfully, I have just been.... busy. Turns out, trying to keep up a house and three kids and a job and pets and the like is... well, the hardest thing I have ever done. Don't worry... I think the girls had a bath in the past week and I am pretty sure Landon's diaper has been changed at least once. We're not completely falling apart. Only partially.

So, tonight, at the request 0f one of my dearest relatives, I update. Live. From the houseboat. On the lake. With margaritas and hot wings and three-almost-teenage-girls oogling over the gaggle of teenage boys strolling around. Yes. Oogling. I can't blame them.

So, here we are.... summertime. Sarah Beth survived sixth grade without a therapist, Jordin managed to cartwheel her way into fourth grade, and Landon? Well, he's just tryin' to catch up with his two little teeth. Tryin'.

Come back. I will write more if you do. xoxo.

2009-05-09T21:16:00.002-04:00

"Relationships are like glass. Sometimes it's better to leave them broken than try to hurt yourself putting it back together"

Therapy.

2009-05-05T14:34:00.002-04:00

I remind myself, on the days that are worse than others, that everyday I get to kiss this....

.... and it makes everything better.

just a note.

2009-04-27T17:46:00.002-04:00

um. lots to say. where the hell have I been since easter, etc....

lessee....

my 31st birthday was yesterday and it was more wonderful than usual. I spent it with people I absolutley adore. that makes any birthday good. well. that and ice cream cake. my thighs are still screaming. and on friday night before there were lemon martinis. yum.

**********************

landon turned six months old a couple of weeks ago. yes. I am writing his letter. don't worry. i had to wait for almost an eternity to get mom to send me pictures. so i am workin' on it people. just a preview... we have two teeth on the bottom. and he's still delicious.

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I want a vacation with no children. i'd like for, just like 48 hours to be able to go do what I want to do and go where I need to go and know that my little lovelies are being taken care of. I don't think i could get to cabo san lucas in only 48 hours, but, hey - it would be worth a try.

**********************

trying to find a new job.

**********************

excited that my friends lyndsay and nathan are about to have a baby boy.

**********************

super excited that my friends jill and jonathan's adoption is almost final.

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need new glasses. desperately. someone! quick! water the money tree!

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dance recital weekend this weekend.

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more than this. later.

xoxo.

the famous dessert.

2009-04-14T18:56:00.003-04:00

so every year at easter, everyone brings a dish.

as you might have heard earlier, kaley and allie's dad, he brought a ham. a ham!

my mom brought a coconut pie. someone else brought bbq chicken in the crock pot.

my cousin shawna, she is alllllways in charge of macaroni and cheese. homemade. and you have to fight to get some on your plate.

you get the idea.

usually i take banana pudding. it's a favorite and people almost lick the dish clean when it's all gone. i make it so much i know the recipe by heart. amazing.

this year, i opted out of the banana pudding. yep. you heard me. opted out.

the problem was, i had gotten hooked on an episode of paula deen's best recipes on saturday. and the friday before that, while in my favorite hair salon, i had been reading the paula deen magazine. before i knew it, i was trying to mayonaise on everything.

so she made a wonderful, simple recipe called "blueberry pineapple crunch," which looked easy and just sounded delicious. the kind of delicious that you only experience when you go into the grocery store hungry. a thing one should never do. right along with watching episodes of paula deen's best recipes when you have yet to have breakfast.

so. it was decided. by a power greater than me. i would forgo bananas and whip up blueberry pineapple crunch for my easter dish.

and everyone moaned and groaned and complained because ewwww blueberries and pineapple are you serious? yes. i was serious.

to make a long story short, and to end the torment of your eyes reading this useless post, the dessert was gone in sixty seconds flat, complete with scraping of the dish. here is the recipe. make and enjoy. and when you say the word "butter," you have to say it just like paula deen would.... buttah.

***************************************************

Paula Dean's Pineapple Blueberry Crunch (from Paula's Best Recipes on The Food Network)

3/4 cup butter, plus more for dish
1 (20-ounce) can crushed pineapple in juice
1 (20-ounce) can blueberry pie filling
1 (18.25-ounce) box yellow cake mix
1 cup chopped pecans

Preheat oven to 350 degrees F. Butter a 13 by 9-inch casserole dish.

Melt 3/4 cup butter in saucepan over low heat.

Pour the pineapple with juice into the casserole dish and evenly spread blueberry pie filling on top. Cover with dry yellow cake mix and top with pecans. Drizzle with melted butter and bake for 35 to 45 minutes.

easter recap.

2009-04-13T12:01:00.009-04:00

sunday was easter. which means, in the south, a large gathering of your closest family members where everyone brings a covered dish and a bunch of plastic colored eggs filled with candy that will surely melt everywhere... then, you stay there for several hours stuffing your face full of all sorts of deliciousness you would never find at home, and watch your children run around the property on the hunt for the mysterious prize egg that might have a $100 bill inside. indeed.

it means dressing your children up in their sunday bestest best (which is a much nicer version of "sunday best" complete with white patent shoes) and arranging them, along with their twenty or so other restless cousins, and taking the yearly cousin photo. because we mommies like to think of them always like that, in their sunday bestest best, not in the shorts, bare feet and mismatched tank top they will eventually put on. taking this picture takes many a nerve, and usually causes all parents involved to quickly retreat into quieter, shadier areas. quickly. especially the males. what? who?

****************************************

the prize egg turned out to be a silly ole urban legend. it was only $10, not $100. not that it mattered.

dalton was happy to find one egg, and why couldn't he just sit down after he did? summer was chattering on the whole time she was hunting, though i am not sure quite about what. destiny was just in a hurry, as no one was allowed to gather more eggs than she. imagine her complete frustration when i asked her what color each one was... then the dilemna... show off how smart she was with her colors, or keep up with her mad dash to fill her basket? jackson wasn't quite sure what we were doing and why, but it seemed fun enough... running around a yard collecting plastic things that have candy inside? OKAY!

kaley and allie were sweet and charming, as always, offering to help me carry in landon and gathering my diaper bag for me. oh, and their dad made a ham. they were quite proud. a ham! did i mention that?

and landon. white and sparkly and clean. and without a nap. and still as charming as ever. i love that boy.

i made a paula deen recipe. with a whole stick of melted butter poured over the top.

bliss.

on being super delicious / a shout out / cry for help

2009-04-07T21:18:00.002-04:00

Shelley. HELLO? MCFLY? I miss my friend. Where are you? Where are we? I do not have your phone number anymore to call you crying or laughing or even screaming. So. Please. Know that I miss you. I miss Friday night Ryans and Sour Skittles and everything else.

xo.
Rachael.

Mimi was crazy enough to take my children on Spring Break - Update II

2009-04-06T12:33:00.000-04:00

Spagi supper w/ icecream for dessert. And a game of UNO that would NOT end but oh the giggles and pieces of them we had never seen before! Big girls "late night" priledge ending w/ popcorn fingerprints on Pa's laptop I've found....Emily has fell right in with the, "Pa..." but Jocilyn still clings to my side. COULD NOT ASK for better travel companions for our wild two. Sunshine would be nice for a couple of hours-

Girls on Spring Break with the Grandparents. Update 1.

2009-04-04T17:44:00.002-04:00

Text msg from Mimi:

made tents w blankets in the car a/c not working can you imagine

****************************

My mom and dad have taken the girls, and one friend each, to Charleston for Spring Break. Much like a UFC Cage Fight, I will let you know who comes out alive.

symphony

2009-04-01T21:09:00.005-04:00

there are moments you wait for your entire life.

my friend jill just got the most wonderful news ... a sweet baby boy is about to be born, and he's going to be the next precious member of her family. kaley's baby brother.

prayers, it turns out, do get answered. in grand form.

now. wonder if he will be a redhead?

my next thirty years

2009-03-31T05:30:00.000-04:00

i am just as much afraid of the past as i am the future. things that are unknown scare me almost as much as things i know like the back of my hand. so hard to believe anything in a world full of lies, half truths and ...

once you realize you can't have everything the way you want it, life gets a little calmer. the sun shines a tiny bit brighter, and ... i take a tiny step away from the familiarity of the past. you know, towards that road i talked about that has all the sunshine and smooth sailing. that's the road that shows up around here with breakfast every morning. the road that rescued me from myself the other day and put a diet coke and gum in the cup holder.... just because it made me feel better. the road that thinks i am precious and beautiful and never minds meeting me for a walk.

i realize i want to be that couple i saw at the dmv the other day... the ones who i know had been together for fifty or so years... through everything life could possibly bring their way .., enjoying grandchildren and great grand children and holding hands the entire time. even in the dmv. the lady whose husband comes back for her and says "come on darlin'," when it's time to shuffle across the room. they do it together. how i long for that.

i want to make breakfast and cook dinners and sleep in the bed next to someone. i want to know that I am The. One.

i know somehow this will never be me. i don't know if i am built for that kind of longevity.

who to believe, who not to believe... if only i could find a way to clear this cloud of dust that surrounds me... so many people with so many self interests in mind...just want to find the future of my life... i am tired of it always being dark in front of me... could someone switch on the light, please?

Spring.

2009-03-26T21:13:00.000-04:00

Here they are. My two favorite girls in the world. Regular posting to resume soon. Stay tuned.

dear world.

2009-03-20T20:59:00.001-04:00

i miss my camera. lots and lots.

my son is precious. adorable.

my daughters are smart. brilliant. amazing.

my sister finally talked to me today. and we texted. because we can.

and. i. miss. my. camera.

Dear Landon. Month Five.

2009-03-18T10:29:00.006-04:00

Yesterday (shame on me) you turned five months old. Five entire months. Before I know it, you'll be dating. Let's just take our time on that one. I'll take a little Kindergarten first, okay?

I must admit I have fewer pictures than normal to add to this post. That has to do of course, because I have shamelessly posted all the ones taken of you this month already, and because, indeed, I sold my camera. Hopefully I will have a new one soon enough.

For the first time in your wee little life, people are commenting on just how big(!) you are. And by big, I mean, you know, BIG. Chunky. Butterballish. It's a sigh of relief from the days of how tiny(!) you were - as I was worried you'd be cursed to a life of being the smallest kid in your class. You've left your preemie days behind for size 12 month clothing. I am constantly cleaning out your drawers.

You've been with your new babysitter for a little over a month now, and we couldn't be happier . You or me. She is sweet and kind and funny and loves the Goo Goo Dolls. I think all four are pretty important, noteworthy qualities. Just the other day when I picked you up, she apologized that you might have become a future golf player - as she had been watching the golf channel with you for most of the day. Apologize? Why, I think I just saw Pa's eyes glaze over. At this rate, he has hopes you might even turn out to be a democrat too. He has no idea I am totally workin' against him.

You are social. Talking. Laughing. Flirtin' with the ladies. You are mastering hand eye coordination. You work for hours on grabbing hold of just one of the dangling toys above your beloved Bouncy Seat. Once you get it, of course, you look around like, um, you know, NOW WHAT?

We introduced you to a little bit of television this month. Only because it was Sesame Street and well, who can resist ELMO? Not even you. You loved him and his goldfish. Don't worry. It's cool. Especially on the baby scene. The real shameful part is that we grownups were all sitting there just as enthralled as you were.

A little birdie told me.

2009-03-17T10:59:00.000-04:00

Dear Jackson.

I know a secret. A big one. One that has plans albeit ever so quietly, to rock your world.

You are getting a baby sister. I know... I've already seen her.

So, if for some reason this wasn't in your master plan, I got news for ya. Journey's coming. Sooner than you think.

Better get ready little buddy. Hide all your good stuff before she gets here.

xo.
Aunt Rachael.

Thinking Spot.

2009-03-11T13:45:00.008-04:00

When the weather warms, we all retreat to one place, every year, no matter what.
Mimi's back porch. It's where the wild things are. It's where we solve the world's problems. Well, most of them anyway. We have yet to solve the issue of my parents being democrats out there. Some things a porch just can't fix.

In any case, democrat or republican, the porch is a special place. Even though we know who is right. Me. Just for notation purposes.

What was I saying again? Oh. Yes. The Back Porch.

Having been born in the month of October, and doing that whole reeaaaalllly tiny thing - Landon has not had much Back Porch Time as of yet. I guess when you are almost five months old, there are fewer problems to solve.

The weather was warm and springish. And Landon debuted on the porch swing.

With his Mimi. And he realized we've been hiding a whole world from him. One that includes birds and trees and two pesky horses. And I am sure he was thinking of disowning us right then, for keeping all this cool stuff from him. WHAT WERE WE THINKING with our desire to keep him warm and toasty?

So, as she is alwaaaays thinking of blog topics for me, Mimi "suggested" that I RUN and get her camera so we could document such an important day. Hey I said SUGGESTED. Of course, by the time you reach thirty, you've realized what "suggested" means in Mother Language. In other words, DO IT. NOW.

After a few minutes of all that new stuff, and you know, birds and nature and all, Landon was just plain tuckered out. That or all the political talk bored him right to sleep.

one million tidbits all rolled into one

2009-03-09T12:03:00.001-04:00

Ever make a list of things to post and realize each one is probably the most mindless post idea ever? well. enjoy the following.

* * * * * * *

Sarah Beth went to her very first NASCAR event this weekend. She came home tired, sunburned, and wearing a Dale Jr. shirt. Need I say more?

Landon is wearing his Citadel onesie today (thank you Uncle Brandon). The one that when we opened it at Christmas, I was sure he would never ever wear because he would never ever be that big. Turns out, if you feed em', they grow. Amazing.

My hours at work were cut to only four days a week. It's a love / hate relationship, that place.

I am working at a Children's Consignment Sale this week. Pray that I don't kill anyone. Especially since it's at a church. Landon needs a high chair. And Mama needs a new pair of shoes.

My little cousin, Summer, calls her Daddy "Mama." There is nothing funnier on the face of the planet.

Jenn, Jackson's Mama, is having a baby girl in a couple of months. I think that makes just enough cousins to open up a daycare. Good Lord. She even had to go out and get a red minivan. Which made me realize that minivans aren't so bad afterall. No. I really didn't just say that.

I made some yummy UNfried Chicken with a recipe from my new cookbook, Family Dinners. I offered to get Jenn a copy, but then realized that since she is a self proclaimed "I don't USE measuring cups" kinda girl, realized what a ridiculous offer I had made. WHAT? A COOKBOOK? Magic like the kind in Jenn's kitchen apparently just... HAPPENS.

Yesterday in an argument with Sarah Beth, she told me I have anger issues. Which is ironic, because, I was really perfectly calm. So I said, "I am not even raising my voice at you." To which she replied, "I didn't say RIGHT NOW, I just said YOU HAVE THEM." Then I told her that she smelled. "BUT I JUST TOOK A SHOWER!" she said. "WELL. I DIDN'T SAY RIGHT NOW. BUT SOMETIMES YOU DO." I think that kind of logic works.

The Farmhouse

via Pinterest

Reassurance.

Resolution 101.

(One of) The Greatest Story(ies) Ever Told

guest starring

{{ under construction }}

Weekending.

Summer Reading, Defined.

Homegrown.

Summer Reading UPDATE / REVIEW

Just keepin' it real, folks.

three.day.weekend.

Summer Reading UPDATE / REVIEW

Fathers Day.

Summer Reading.

::edit::

Last Days.

Miscellany.

Farmhouse Food / Cast Iron Cookin'.

Catching my breath.

The power of Realization.

Good Friday.

Wordless Wednesday.

Ode to Messy.

Weekending.

Me and Martha / March

Things I Love. A collection.

Closet Confessions

Sunday Cookin'.

Me and Martha : February : Review

Spring.

Celebrating.

Saturday Morning.

SWAK.

Valentines Day.

Martha and Janet. (And Me, of course)

Test post

Teenager Chronicles.

On Knowing Other Women.

Snowpacalypse 2011 / A Recap.

Panic! Grief! Fear! ... SNOW!

Resolute.

2011/364

2011/365

In the kitchen, yo.

Jolly.

Tis the season.

(Gratitudes, continued) The Dog Days are Over....

5110 Days. A celebration.

Gratitudes. / The Extra Hour.

Gratitudes. / Them.

Halloweened.

Busy. Busy. Busy.

It's not always rainbows and butterflies...

How Magic Happens.

Extreme Shallowness. Evolved.

The Day Before The World Changed Forever.

The Proper Way to Say Thank You

Her.

The Nightlife Baby....

Thoughts on Crazy.

Dreaming.

Spring.

Things we go through a lot of...

Return.

Home.

Vacation 2010... Day Two.

Vacation 2010. Day One.

On Raising a Jordin (*or Jordan)

A Case Study.

This is my Father's Day Card.

Video Killed the Radiostar. And Facebook killed my blog.

On What Works. And well.

An Open Letter to My Cousin Mandy.

PS.

Staycation.

Gratuitous Fat Baby Fix.

Housekeeping.

Proof they still live....