inspired & impoverished

Today will not be productive.

2011-12-09T06:29:00.001-08:00

This is what 2/3 of our household looks like today. Sick. Sick. Sick. I see chicken soup in our future, and LOTS of movies. To top it all off, it's freezing out today! For Central Arizona, 28 degrees is like the Yukon.

Back to Blogging.

2011-12-08T12:57:00.000-08:00

Now that I have a point and shoot camera again, I am back to blogging. Between not having a point and shoot, kidney surgery, and a battery of fall illnesses in our house, I had NO time to blog, let alone do anything else. I really missed sharing here in this place, and what better time of year to hop back on the bandwagon, than right before Christmas baking!! I think I love blogging about food and crafts as much as I like making them.

On an "impoverished" note, we are trying to avoid a second car payment and lower our gas bill, therefore, I walk the two younger kids to school every day, morning and night. It's about 4 miles total for me each day, and two for them, since they only go one way. Normally I really enjoy our walks, but the past few days have been FREEZING here in the desert (literally) and I have been an ice cube each morning when I get back home. On the bright side, I think I'm burning more calories, right? Today I took one for the team and walked to and from school one extra time in the middle of the day to have lunch with Stella and Ty, and as you can see below, it was effort well spent. :)

Dinner with the children and other amazing tales of survival

2011-08-15T23:55:00.000-07:00

There are two kinds of parents when it comes to dining out with children.

The first kind of parents say "Children can be a handful at unexpected times and I choose to put certain aspects of my life on hiatus until said child grows older and becomes more predictable."

The second kind of parents say "Public tantrums and embarrassing charades be damned, I will not sacrifice my freedom merely because I have children. They will learn to behave in public or I will die trying to teach them to."

We are the latter kind of parent. Both styles of parenting have their pros and cons. We chose to parent in the latter style regarding restaurant dining in particular because we grew tired of hearing our friends with kids tell us they couldn't go out to dinner with their offspring because said offspring "won't let us, they just don't listen when we are out in public."

Lamont and I would look at each other, knowing full well who wore the pants in that family. We were determined to be just as social and active as before we had our kids. Sure we endured the occasional tantrum or glass of spilled milk, but for the most part the kids knew what was expected of them and we prided ourselves on their behavior in public. We were frequently told how wonderfully behaved the kids were when we dined out and yes, I gloated a bit. Then Ty was born.

I'm not sure if it's because he's the baby and has been coddled a bit more than his siblings or if it's just his borderline insane (but awesome nevertheless) personality, but he is the one child who has made us look like fools in public time and time again. He's the one who would lay down in a puddle of tears on the Target floor and wail over something ridiculous. When I would bend down to pick him up, his body would immediately go limp in that quintessential child defense mechanism that we like to call "jello body." If I did manage to pick him up he would flail and grab at my clothes (once baring my entire chest to the homegoods section of TJ Maxx). He knew better than to hit or kick, but tried his best to deter my intervention through a flurry of movement that even a cat in a sink full of water could not replicate. We have managed to tame the beast somewhat over the years, and at the age of five, he is predictable in public settings at least 80% of the time. Last night was the other 20% of the time.

We took the family out to an "upscale" burger joint in the Biltmore District of Phoenix. That was our first mistake. We assumed that we could handle the Yelp described "hipster hangout" with ease. The kids all got the standard run down before entering, and off we went, our best intentions laid out. We were seated on the (still very cramped and hipster-filled) patio and set the kids at the table. 30 seconds in and I hear one of the very stylish gentlemen seated behind me exclaim "Uh-oh." I turn instinctively toward Ty only to see my son with a large ball of flames in his hand and a mixture of fear and thrill on his face. I grab whatever is the source of the flame and put it out with my bare hands. Yes, it hurt. Once the fire was under control, I realized that in less than a minute Ty had managed to peel off and set fire to his kindergarten reward sticker proclaiming him "terrific!" as well as part of his napkin. Fail number two. Mommy forgot to move the decorative table votive out of reach. Time for the first beer. We have now been labeled by fellow diners as "that family"

A little while into the dinner and the littles decide they need a potty break. The normally well mannered Ty shouts out "I'll go with you mommy, I REALLY have to PEE!!" Okay, thanks for that announcement, you may now come with me. It's dark on the patio, so I take Ty and Stella by the hand without much notice. As we walk through the restaurant (which is substantially more illuminated) I see the hipster crowd looking at my little Ty and smirking. I guess they just think he's cute, right? Only then do I realize he had taken off both socks and shoes and was walking through this posh little bar with a ketchup smeared face and hillbilly bare feet. I am mortified, pick him up, and carry he and his sister into the bathroom. Moments after closing the door, my oldest son begins loudly knocking on the bathroom door while equally loudly saying "open up, I have Ty's shoes. Lamont said that being barefoot in a public bathroom is wrong on many levels." Really?? Thanks Cal, I was unaware of that fact, but now, not only am I informed of it, so is the rest of the restaurant.

Back to the table. Order another beer. All I want to do now is LEAVE. Then I am suddenly seized by uncontrollable laughter. The humor of it all hits me. Us and our ridiculous expectations, and the judgmental crowd observing. It really is amusing. I look around at the tattooed, high-heeled, overly tanned, surgically altered crowd, all of whom are clearly annoyed by the presence of (God forbid) children and I realize just how funny it all is. I love my life, I love my kids... arson and all. Take that hipsters!

Sunday bloody Sunday.

2011-08-15T00:56:00.000-07:00

Sometimes I just feel like blogging. I have nothing of any great importance to say, but rather I grab on to a few of the whirlwind thoughts spinning through my brain and put them out there. For who, I don't know, myself I guess. Today is one of "those" blogging days. This post will have no cohesive rhythm. I actually advise against even reading it as I assure you it will be boring. I went to church today. I have never really enjoyed church, and if I am honest, I basically dread it. My husband wanted to go and so I obliged because I knew it was important to him. What is it about church that makes me standoffish? I guess several things. I don't like hugs from people I do not know. I don't like putting on a happy face when life is anything but, and that is what's expected at the churches I have been to in the past. I am somewhat uncomfortable with emotion (mine and others', just being honest here) and have a great deal of unresolved "issues". I have baggage, what can I say? My upbringing alternated between viscous Atheism and cram-down-your-throat-Christianity. It was profoundly confusing and this confusion has carried over into adulthood. I have also been disappointed by many professed Christians who have come into my life, but maybe I expected too much of them. So, that sums up my church-o-phobia. Today I decided to buck up and go. I lived. Barely. I was slightly overdressed and I went on a 5 minute inner monologue/tangent when the pastor cracked a blond joke, and, oh yeah, I did get momentarily (and repeatedly) distracted by a church band bass player who was rocking out hard core yet looked just like Ray Romano. Kind of like soccer dad meets sitcom dad meets Gene Simmons. He was great and I couldn't help but be distracted. In the end, I still felt awkward and out of place, but it had less to do with the church itself and more to do with the Freudian luggage I carry around.

Public School begins...

2011-08-10T08:16:00.000-07:00

As I type this I have just delivered Stella and Ty to their third days of first grade and kindergarten, respectively. Stella is a very social child and is adjusting pretty well despite knowing almost nobody in her class this year. It is somewhat irritating to me that each year Stella and my older kids move up a grade, they have a totally new group of classmates. The school's idea of keeping the kids together "somewhat" involves keeping one or two kids from the same class together the following year at best. One of the reasons I chose public school way back at the beginning is because the kids would create some lasting friendships. It seems somewhat counter-productive to friendship to constantly split apart the classmates. It also creates unnecessary anxiety about starting school each year. Javen and Max are not as socially inclined as Stella and constantly being thrust into a new group of classmates was very stressful and upsetting to them. The kids even have to sit with their new classmates at lunch, so the old friendships cannot even be maintained through lunch and recess commeraderie. It's kind of like starting a new school each year, which I see very little benefit to.

Ty is doing okay in kindergarten. He has already moved past the tears for the most part and now just gives me a somewhat resigned-yet-icy stare after I hug him and tell him goodbye in the morning. He has said he enjoys the company of some of his new class mates, but by the end of day two, he was already talking about how the day was "too long" and "takes forever" and "drags on" and "is boring." I take these comments with a grain of salt, but coming from Ty it is a tad worrisome because he LOVES learning and is a very precocious little guy. In my opinion, the first week of school should be MORE engaging than the rest of the year, not less. It should be filled with stories, coloring, circle time, songs, games, etc, all while slowing acclimating the kids to the processes and rules. Our school had a huge spike in kindergarten enrollment this year, so last minute an extra teacher was hired. This is Ty's teacher. She was at the open house so thankfully Ty has met her, but she will not be officially starting until September because of prior commitments. That means that Ty's class has a substitute for the first month of school. So basically, as soon as they fall into the groove of their routine, they will have a new teacher. In kindergarten. Poor planning? I think so.

Stella was told that starting in September she will have DAILY homework that will include 30 minutes of reading (no problem with that, we do that anyway) 10 minutes of writing about said reading (a great way to get kids to loathe their reading at this young of an age IMO), AND 1-2 math worksheets. Every day. In first grade. After 6+ hours of school. That does not sit well with me. The mainly worksheet based curriculum is what crippled Javen so much last year. I thought it was pretty acceptable to have homework in 3rd grade, a few days a week, but an hour or more every day?? That's too much and I am bothered that it's starting in first grade.

Homeschooling will not begin until September so I have nothing to report on that front. Right now I am simply working on getting the boys acclimated to their new schedule. I have them wake up a little earlier each day, and do some reading and drawing. One thing I HAVE noticed, is that when I ask them to choose reading material off our huge bookshelf, they automatically pick books that are educational first. Javen picked a huge book on dinosaurs yesterday, and Max picked books on desert life and inventors. When they were done reading they were happy to chat me up about what they had read, whereas last year they always HATED writing paragraphs about their required reading. It seems to happen much more organically when they are making some choices for themselves.

I will do my best to approach this coming year from an unbiased perspective. It will be a challenge for me as my prior public school experiences with the kids have not been great and I have no established foundation for homeschool yet, but I will do my best to remain open-minded about both forms of schooling.

I also plan to be as involved in the public school as I am in homeschooling (to whatever level I am capable of), as I think that ANY successful school experience relies heavily on parental interaction.

Of we go!

A Tomato Sprouts in Phoenix

2011-08-07T14:50:00.001-07:00

Well, technically in Litchfield Park, a West suburb of Phoenix. Regardless it was an extremely exciting occurrence. My tomato growing adventure went something like this:

I bought some heirloom tomato seeds from Seeds of Change. I planted them in organic potting soil, watered them, and waited. And waited. And waited. And, yeah, nothing happened. Really? Germination isn't a highly technical procedure right? You just water the soil and kind of leave them sit. So I tried again. You would think that I'd do some research after the first batch but no, not me! I just decided fate did not want that batch to germinate and set out on the same fruitless path again. Yeah, nothing happened. Again. So I finally got the hint. I was doing something wrong. I know, hard to believe. So I read up on germinating tomato seeds. Kind of obsessively if I am truthful. Turns out they do not need sun to germinate and the intense Arizona sun was even worse. I also, ahem, overshot the depth at which the seeds should be sewn by, well, a lot. Then I learned that the composition of my potting soil, however awesome and organic it may have been, was not holding water and was not appropriate for the arid climate.

I took my new found knowledge and sprung into action. I Sterilized my pots, mixed new soil containing some clay, planted the seeds at 1/4" depth, placed them on a warm, but not too hot windowsill, and kept the soil moist. You will never guess what happened. They frickin germinated!!! To say I was ecstatic was an understatement. A severe, severe understatement. I immediately screamed and texted my husband (who happens to be stationed 4 hours away on an Army base) "911 call me." Apparently far wiser than me, my 9 year old son looked at me and said "Mommy, that's not really 911." Oh crap, he's right, it is NOT a 911 text. Resend "Not 911, but important." Then my husband calls. "What's wrong?! What happened?!" I proceeded to tell him with great joy that my seeds finally germinated. Silence. Then "Amy...really??...911?!" Uh yeah, guess that whole 911 bit was a tad over-exuberant.

So yeah, my husband did not share my immediate joy over the seedlings, rather he was just relieved no one had died.

Here they are, showing off their first true leaves. My beautiful little seedlings. I have already transplanted some of them to other containers, and I read directions first.

A little excitement

2011-07-31T13:39:00.000-07:00

I am one of those people who, no matter how old I am, gets excited at the start of the school year. I think I actually preferred shopping for paper, pens, pencils, and folders more than new clothes as a kid. I feel the same way as an adult, maybe even more so with all the changes and excitement this year will bring. My youngest child is starting kindergarten, my only girl is going into first grade, my two middle boys will be starting a new homeschool adventure, and my oldest will spend the school year with his dad (yes, yes, my oldest has a different dad) in Michigan, attending a brand new tech academy that is by invitation only. So much change, but so much to anticipate!!

Since the decision was made to homeschool, I have been immersed in reading and exploring curriculums. My two youngest will start public school on August 8, but I will not start the boys until after Labor Day because of a vacation we will be taking. That's probably a good thing because it will give me a little more time to get organized. This past Friday I began compiling a list of resources for homeschooling that are located nearby. What an awesome area we live in for interactive learning! I have found Farmer's Markets, CSA's (which I plan to join), pick-your-own-eggs dairy farms, animal farms, mountain hikes, local desert life parks, huge zoos, an incredible library in Glendale that sits on a historic farm, a huge aquarium, The Phoenix Children's Museum, and Biosphere! If you are local to me and would like the Word Document, feel free to comment.

One thing I know for certain is that I want a small garden for the kids to tend to. They are such a great learning tool, and very rewarding. I found this tutorial to build a raised bed garden, which is perfect for us because of the hard desert rock and clay that sits on the South side of our home. I have been getting our seeds from Seeds of Change. They have a stand at our local Sprouts grocery store and have an incredible selection of produce and heirloom seeds.

On a public school note, Ty has a doctor appointment (and dreaded booster shots) this Tuesday and his official kindergarten enrollment following that. Maybe after the shots, kindergarten won't seem so bad. I have been LOVING the Wendolonia blog and have been reading the heck out of it for school lunch ideas. Another reason I love the idea of homeschool is because I am admittedly a food geek and love my kids to have delicious, organic, healthy food. School lunch does not supply this type of meal and I felt very limited by sack lunches last year. I was also bothered by the lack of food actually consumed by many of the kids during lunch and found myself having lunch in the cafeteria with the kids quite regularly to make sure they ate well. I will still try to have lunch at least once a week with Stella and Ty this year, as I really enjoy it and it makes their day special. The blog I linked to works around a bento box meal and is equal parts aesthetically interesting and deliciously healthy.

Overall I have great feeling for the school year and cannot wait to go buy some pencils and paper. :)

The call has been made.

2011-07-26T19:29:00.000-07:00

I did it. Today I called the boys' elementary school and dis-enrolled them. It was such a liberating feeling, but I still almost cried. Javen high-fived me and smiled contentedly at me. Ty, my 5 year-old, will be starting kindergarten in the public school system on August 8, as will Stella, my 1st grader. Javen and Max, my 4th graders, will be starting to homeschool. It will be an interesting year and a great opportunity to compare the two experiences. I chose to start with Jay and Max because Javen in particular needed a more hands-on approach and much more one on one instruction. Max is more self-disciplined, but was also becoming increasingly bored and uninspired in the classroom. As I am a student myself, I thought it would be best to start slowly as opposed to biting off more than I can chew. Stella seems to enjoy the traditional classroom and as a younger student she has more hands on lessons. Ty, my 5 year-old, will benefit from exposure to other children and adults as well as some structured learning. Having the two of them in public school (one that we are relatively happy with for the most part) will help to ease my transition into homeschooling with the 2 boys. I have no "set in stone" agenda, and have no clue if we will end up back in public school next year, or if we will end up homeschooling everyone! I look forward to this journey, and hope my blog will help to keep me on track, as I am notoriously easily distracted. :)

The homeschool debate

2011-07-18T11:34:00.001-07:00

I am really debating homeschooling my two middle sons. They are both going into 4th grade. We are finding that the school curriculum is too fast paced and worksheet oriented to address the boys' more hands on learning style. The last school year was very challenging for us all, and I felt like I spent more time in the classroom and out RE-teaching them the lessons in different styles than doing anything else. Jay in particular really struggles with classwork and math. He can sit through an hour lesson in school on division and get nothing from it, but I can sit with him for 20 minutes with a pile of marbles and bowls to divide them into and he grasps it with no problems.

The issue that I am facing is my own organization, or lack thereof. I am notorious for not finishing things I start and I am afraid that I will fail them in the realm of homeschooling. My two youngest will be in school during the day so that will help a bit, but I am really concerned that homeschooling the two of them while I myself am in school full time will be biting off more than I can chew. If anyone has suggestions or tips regarding to homeschooling and organization/floow through, I would be eternally grateful!

Morning tea and sewing plans.

2011-07-09T10:46:00.000-07:00

I have been reading a great deal lately, thanks in part to a kidney stone that left me in bed and on a large amount of pain killers, and in part to the blistering Arizona summer. My reading has consisted of three books this week:

The Beekeeper's Apprentice
The No. 1 Ladies' Detective Agency
Tears of the Giraffe (sequel to the above book)

The books are based in England, and Botswana, respectively, and while the landscapes vary greatly, there is one very common theme in these books... tea. Specifically, morning tea. I am a bit of a romantic, and a bit of a nerd, so I decided that morning tea sounded like something so lovely and peaceful, that I had to adopt it as my own ritual. I must admit, my two favorite little knickknacks also reaffirmed this idea, as they are a beautiful teacup that my little sister gifted to me, and a glass sugar bowl in the shape of an orange with a bird perched atop that was a present from my husband. I use these items, but not nearly as often as I would like. So, I have begun the new ritual of morning tea. I have chosen organic green tea as my drink of choice, and it's delicate flavor is a perfect way to start the day. I sit, sometimes quietly, sometimes in the midst of noisy children, and I drink my tea slowly and let it warm and awaken me from the inside out. I would be lying if I said I didn't think of Mary Russel, the heroine from Beekeeper, sipping tea in the Sussex countryside, or of Mma Romatswe sitting in Botswana, sipping African bush tea and listening to Gaborone awaken. I do. But I also think of my day, of days to come, and days past, and just enjoy the moments around me. It is a nice ritual, and I think it will stay.

During one of my morning teas, I realized that I haven't sewn in quite some time, and I cannot justify adding to my current stash until I have whittled it down some. This poses a problem for me, as Sarah Jane's Children at Play collection is on my list of must have fabrics, so I decided I need to sew. I dug through my patterns and settled on the Oliver+S Ice Cream Dress Pattern. I have had this pattern since last year and have been too busy to take it on. I had the perfect amount of coordinating Alexander Henry Farmdale Crossing fabric. So, yesterday I sat down to cut out the pattern, but only got halfway through before the kidney stone pain brought me screeching to a halt. Hopefully I can make some progress on the dress over the course of the next two weeks. I cannot wait to see it on my little princess!

Feeling inspired by summer!

2011-06-25T07:24:00.001-07:00

Things we're loving in the Arizona summer...

Meals served cold

Playing in the sprinklers after sunset

Crafting indoors

Anything barbequed

Sleeping in

Parks with splash pads

Summer reading (currently The Beekeeper's Apprentice)

Roads trips to the coast

Fresh produce

In keeping with the cold meal theme, I thought I would share our favorite new (super easy) pasta dish. This meal was born of a late night craving I had for a veggie filled pasta salad. It's been a huge hit!

Summer Pasta Salad

1 package of farfalle (bow tie pasta) cooked al dente and drained
olive oil
1 medium red onion, halved and sliced thin.
1 pint grape tomatoes (organic is best!)
2 yellow bell peppers, sliced
2 minced garlic cloves
3/4 cup feta cheese
1 bunch of chopped, thin stalk asparagus
1/2 cup Annie's Natural Tuscan Italian Salad Dressing

Preheat oven to 425 degrees

Place chopped asparagus in a casserole dish and toss it with some olive oil. Bake it in the oven for 10-15 minutes, until slightly tender. Remove dish from oven and add the yellow bell pepper, the sliced onion, and the minced garlic cloves and toss together. Put the dish back in the oven for another 5-7 minutes or until the garlic is fragrant. Remove the dish from the oven. Toss the cooked veggies with the drained pasta, the grape tomatoes, feta cheese, Annie's Salad Dressing, and 2-3 tablespoons of high quality olive oil. Toss it all together and top with fresh cracked pepper.

You could also add olives, or as my friend Jenny did, artichoke hearts.

He still calls me mommy

2011-06-10T08:52:00.000-07:00

Last night I was standing in the kitchen after dinner, tidying up a bit. Javen, my soon to be 10 year old came in to get a drink. He flashed me one of his sweet, genuine smiles and I ruffled his hair. Suddenly I had the urge to pick him up and hold him for a minute, gangly legs and all. He looked at me like I was sort of crazy, but then hopped up, hugged me, and laid his head on my shoulder. I sat there thinking how crazy time is. How special the little moments are, and how evanescent it all is. I told him that soon he would be big enough to hold me like that, and he giggled but then hugged me a little tighter. One of these days I will hold him like that, and it will be the last time. Eventually he will be too big, too cool, or too old. After a few minutes I set him down, but etched that little moment into my mind, and consoled myself with the fact that he still calls me mommy.

Back on the blogging bandwagon again.

2011-06-03T11:04:00.001-07:00

It has been a crazy year since my husband started an in state deployment to the US/Mexico border, and while I did not have much time to check my blog, as I forecasted correctly last year, I really missed this space, even knowing that maybe only 2 people in the world have ever read it, ha! Writing out those little bits and pieces of life, the good and the bad, make it seem more tangible, more timeless. I miss unloading a week's worth of stressors, or a heartwrenching memory to no one in particular. I miss knowing that each week I would have time to sit and reflect on our lives that have unraveled their surprises over the course of this blog. So, it is with great happiness that I return to the semi-regular updates of my slacker blog. :)

The First Day of Five...

2011-02-09T08:30:00.001-08:00

is not nearly as scary as I thought it would be...

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TY!

A boy and his dog.

2011-01-22T12:48:00.000-08:00

Javen and Lilly. Aside from his brother Max, Javen's best pal in the world is his little furball Lilly, who looks more like a skinny, dwarf dairy cow than an actual dog. She sleeps by him every night, and he whispers to her in a sweet voice that only she, and his little sister Stella will ever know. She brings out a side of him that I rarely see, but always cherish.

I wish I had a shrinking potion...

2011-01-10T20:03:00.000-08:00

Stella looks up at me, and with a huge smile spread out on her little face, like peanut butter spread onto bread, smooth, wholesome, and a little bit nutty, she says to me quite matter-of-factly "Mommy, I wish I had a shrinking potion. I would take it so that I could stay six forever. Or maybe, (thoughtful pause) I would give it to YOU and you can shrink down and be six with me, and we could play together!". While I would love to keep my little Stella six years old forever, I would love even more, the opportunity to be her playmate for a day, and to see the world from her perspective, everything shiny, new, and hopeful. How priceless to have that carefree, optimistic view of the world. You can be giving, innocent, self-centered, and temperamental all in one moment. I sometimes forget what it's like to see the world from my kids' perspectives. Every little detail is different for them. The rambunctious dog that licks my hand and stands at knee level, is to my younger kids, a great, drooling behemoth, with a tail like Indiana Jones' whip. The tiny twin sized beds that I squish into at story time before bed, are to them, giant, puffy, quilt filled clouds, with enough extra room for an entire nation of stuffed friends and dolls, and the top bunk may as well be the Empire State building! I love watching them sing at the highest decibel in a room full of people, without the slightest care. I watch my youngest run outside to great the UPS man in a backwards bib that he has deemed "his cape", Star Wars Underoos, and knee high winter boots. He sees nothing wrong with this, in fact, he is downright proud to show off his fantastic ensemble! He will happily ride his sister's pink scooter in front of the neighbor boys without thinking twice about it. I love to watch Stella giggle at her wild, insane curls first thing in the morning, and smile in amazement when her pancakes are in the shape of hearts, or Mickey Mouse. She looks at the old, wild-haired, worn out doll that her Great Grandma gave her, and she thinks it's the most beautiful thing she has ever seen. They don't ask much of me, but in return they give me so much, and show me a world where anything is possible... even shrinking potion.

Some fun things for the holidays...

2010-12-19T10:22:00.000-08:00

Just a few links to share with friends and family of things I'm loving this holiday season...

I bought this adorable magnetic locket for my sweet Stella for Christmas. We are putting a picture of her twin sister inside of it. It's even more precious in person!!

These little donut soaps make the CUTEST stocking stuffers! She also makes a glazed donut version, and a chocolate iced version. My friend Visty linked me to these!

The easiest, and most delicious gingerbread people recipe! We made a batch yesterday, and have more dough chilling in the fridge as we speak!

The cutest little leaping reindeer cookie cutter!

This is such a sweet Christmas book, Max and I found it at Barnes and Noble, and we love the illustrations!

These are a family stocking stuffer tradition for us, the kids LOVE them, and the scents last forever!

And lastly, a nativity scene that my toddler can actually play with!

Backyard Theater...

2010-10-01T10:28:00.000-07:00

showtime!

no peeking!

This reminds me of a puppet version of The Grudge, when Stella busted out of the theater, like the girl crawling out of the TV... am I weird??

ta-daaaaah!

The End!

squishy-face Stella!!

The Cheese Stands Alone...

2010-09-29T17:10:00.000-07:00

How appropriate that Ty, my youngest, silliest child, would be metaphorically referred to as "The Cheese". Actually, he's equal parts ham and cheese, but he is, in fact, my last little one at home. Five before him have gone off to school, and he's the last man standing. I'm trying so hard to just enjoy our time, and each day as it passes, without tainting it with the forboding thought of school, but occasionally I succumb. From the first second he was placed in my arms, I've tried hard to push off the inevitable growing up that will occur. I nursed him far longer than his siblings, he spent all but a handful of nights sleeping soundly in our bed instead of his perfectly decorated crib, I refused to cut his floppy curls until he more closely resembled a sheepdog than a little boy, I let him carry his frog blankie (or "Mossie" as he calls it) virtually everywhere, toted him around in a sling until my back ached from the sheer weight of him, and to this day (he's 4 and a half) I wash him with Baby Magic, because he still smells like my precious newborn. But no matter how hard I try, time marches on. He looks longingly at his siblings as they walk out the door to school, he pouts sadly when told he is "to little" for something, and writes him name on every piece of paper that he comes in contact with. Okay, so that last part may have more to do with the fact that his name only consists of two letters, than it does with growing up, but you see my point. I just can't stop time, and it's bittersweet to see childhood, and this part of motherhood, slowly slipping away. I'm so glad to have my husband, and his beautiful optimism, constantly reminding me to live in the moment. To stop fretting about what's down the road, and to just relish these months. And to look forward to all that's to come...

His absolute favorite "home with mommy" pastime is painting, anything and everything. Paper, rocks, seashells, pinecones, you name it, we've painted it. And his pensive expressions are my favorite part...

I'd have to say his second favorite (or a tie with reading books and telling stories) is playing chess. My dad taught him and he's obsessed. It's so cute to hear my little 4 year old saying "Knights move up two and over one, or up one and over two".

A New Rhythm...

2010-09-27T10:05:00.000-07:00

I've kind of neglected my blog this month. It's been a bit chaotic here, and we're all trying to adapt to this new rhythm. Lamont was sent on an in-state deployment to the Arizona/Michigan border for the icky 1070 Bill. His guard unit is providing support to the Border Patrol, so he spends 5-6 days a week stationed at Fort Huachuca Army Base, south of Tuscon. It's a good 3.5+ hour drive from us, so he doesn't come home until the weekend (or whenever they give him his 2 days off). It's just a completely different routine now, and it's been a little tough for the kids to get used to, but we're all feeling very thankful that he's not in Afghanistan. Overall, it's been good, I've had a lot to busy myself with, as far as the kids are concerned, but every once in awhile, it's overwhelming to not have someone to pass the torch to, and I find my chocolate and wine intake has increased. I've missed blogging, and as soon as I can find a place for it in my new schedule, I'll be back. In the meantime, I will try to at least keep small updates and photos going for my fam back in Michigan!

Daddy's birthday party was the day before he left for his new duty station.
Made a chocolate cake, which was divine, but the fudgey frosting was a monstrous pain in the a$$, and I will likely never make it again, ugh! Stella went sprinkle crazy on the top...

Shirts vs. skins. Max and Ty never wear shirts, NEVER.

A Trip to the Zoo...

2010-09-13T13:36:00.000-07:00

We recently found out we live a mere 10 minutes away from a very cool zoo and aquarium. How we've lived in Litchfield Park for a year and half and not known about it is beyond me, but we did! My kids first fundraiser for the school year was a somewhat cool coupon booklet, which included a free pass with purchase for the Wildlife World Zoo and Aquarium. I took my oldest son, to test out the waters, as he was set to leave us for a few months, and spend some time with his dad in Michigan. It was a fun little send off trip for the two of us!

I have decided that while my son may look like a 12 year old John Lennon, he must channel Dr. Doolittle. All of the animals were oddly enthralled with the kid! Not just the normally inquisitive ones either, the mountain lions, alligator, cranes, giraffes, and monkeys all followed him around whenever he moved around their habitats. Even when several other people were present. My jaw finally hit the ground when one of these spastic monkeys paused near him, and slowly reached it's hand out to hold Caleb's fingers. Caleb was stunned, and thank God, I had my camera!!

Here is a mountain lion with his necked craned around to keep his sights set on the little Dr. Doolittle boy. Once Caleb was close, the lion walked right up to him and just stared. It avoided the rest of us onlookers like the plague.

And these funny guys were too busy fighting with each other to notice anyone...

In spite of the fact that the other zoo-goers were enticing this long-necked fellow with handfuls of giraffe food (whatever that is) he refused to leave Caleb's side, and frequently licked him with his long purple tongue!

Petting a mama deer while she takes an afternoon nap...

We learned that baby deer chase their tales just like puppies (albeit more awkwardly), who knew?

Take cover my boy! He was accosted by an unruly gang of hungry pygmy goats, a 12 year old's worst nightmare, esp when you have long hair...

Caleb snapped this photo, and it just may be my favorite of the day! I had no idea that seahorses mate for life!!! How cool! We loved watching them dance around with each other...

I don't know of many things that can bring about smiles as quickly as petting a pool full of rays. They remind me of little kittens, they way they rub against your hands, and flap at you happily...

One of the eerily cool albino alligators... I swear one of them wanted to eat me for lunch. He ran faster than I knew a lizard that size could move to the other side of the glass where I stood, and got in pouncing position. I ran, fast.

MIA for a bit...

2010-09-09T09:06:00.000-07:00

But lots going on!

I thought I'd go light on the words today and heavy on the pics... (that is, until I got on the topic of ice cream).

We'll start with this morning's excitement. We walked out the door to head to school this morning and found this fantastic fellow hanging out in the driveway. He was huge!

Ty heard the commotion and came flying out of the house in his tighty-whities. Then proceeded to hover about an inch over the bug while exclaiming "He doesn't even mind when I'm THIS close to him!!"

Earlier in the week, we finally got a chance to try my friend Sarah's cute pet rock in habitat idea.
I took Ty and his best bud Hudson out hiking for some cool rocks. Then we took them home and gave them a nice, soapy bath in the sink. The boys scrubbed away, until their new "pets" were nice and clean, then they towel dried them. The last step was to paint them, so they would look like whatever pet they deemed them. Hudson, who is on a major dinosaur kick as of lately, instantly christened them dinosaur eggs and dinosaurs. Ty was a bit more pensive. He finally decided his largest rock would make a wonderful blue meteor. Then he decided one would be a "rascal". He looked at me, completely earnest, and said "Mommy, what color is a rascal?". I was tempted to tell him they look like small boys who never wear pants, and have wild hair, but instead told him I thought that most of the rascal population were orange. Finally, after the rascal, and meteor were complete, he settled on his last "pet", a raccoon egg.

painting with great panache...

the pets are resting in their habitats...

A Tale of Two Cities (and some ice cream)...
Specifically, Phoenix Arizona, and Holland Michigan. This tale began when I was a tiny little girl of about 2 years, growing up on the shores of Lake Michigan, and living in the small town of Grand Haven. This is where it all began. Where I first tasted the mysterious, delicious, scoop of blue heaven that many a Midwesterner know as... Blue Moon Ice Cream. If you are lucky enough to have lived in the Midwest, and have tasted it, then you know what I speak of, if you have not, I can only tell you, it must be tried before your days walking this Earth are over. It is a flavor that cannot be described, nor can it be recreated. Sadly, however, this little bit of wonder is only available in the Midwest (I have heard that a place is located in Redondo Beach, CA, that occasionally has it, and I fully intend to investigate this claim). The brand that we love, the brand our family has grown up with, is made by Hudsonville Ice Cream, in West Michigan. In some evil ruse to hide this marvelous flavor from the rest of the world, Hudsonville kindly informed me by email that they do not ship their ice cream, and I would have to "enjoy it the next time I visit Michigan". Oh no, this does not work for me, not at all. I need to have it HERE!!! In Arizona!! Well, as luck would have it, my husband had to fly back to Michigan for 3 days this month. Not much time, but enough to work out a plan. A plan, to bring 3 half gallons of ice cream back to the scorching desert. Crazy? Yes. Possible? We only hoped. Lamont dutifully went to the grocery store in Michigan, made his purchases, and stuffed them in his checked luggage in a styrofoam cooler, packed with dry ice. Then, he hopped on a plane for 3 and a half hours. Praying. I waited for him in the Mesa airport, also praying, and as I saw him step out of the gate, my heart leaped for joy. He was back, and that meant that my beloved Blue Moon was somewhere near, very near. I could almost smell the Fruity-pebbles-esque sent wafting through the air. We grabbed his checked bag, and ran to the van, our hearts racing with excitement and anticipation. We opened the cooler, and there it was... fully intact... err, I think... oh my God!!! What is that liquid running from the side?!?!?! Oh my heck! We need a store, stat! It was still holding on, but was slowly losing it's "cool". We drove like bats out of hell to the nearest Walmart, and I ran in full tilt. The sweet little old lady at the door greeted my panicked expression with a friendly yet curious "may I help you?" Yes!!! I told her I needed dry ice, as fast as possible. She looked at me baffled. "I don't think we have anything like that in our store..." Clearly the poor soul had never even heard of such a thing, and just guided me to the regular ice bins... it will have to suffice, I have no time to search the store. I grabbed some, and flew out to the car. We stood on the blistering blacktop, pavement burning our shoe soles and dry ice burning our hands, reorganizing the ice cream, and redistributing all of the old and new ice, and sealed it off. This poor ice cream was nearing critical condition. There's no way it could handle an hour drive home on a blistering 108 degree day. We decided an air-conditioned restaurant was our only hope, to give it a respite from the heat, and a chance to re-freeze before the drive. Then came our saving grace. An angel in TGI Friday's uniform. I cannot recall her name, but I will never forget her kindness... she saved our blessed ice cream. She stared at us oddly lugging in a huge foam cooler, and asking to be seated. I assured her we did not have any vital organs in our cooler, but we did have a quickly deteriorating situation. It was then that she offered us... space in the Friday's walk in freezer. Angel from above!! You have saved our frozen smurf colored friend! We dined for over an hour, while our ice cream froze to rock hard status, thanked her profusely, and made the drive home. Our Blue Moon arrived fully intact, and has been carefully rationed out since, with only one and a half containers remaining.

The star of the story...

A vacation...

2010-08-26T08:13:00.000-07:00

Here are a few of our favorite images from our vacation to San Diego and camping on Coronado Island...

Our first site upon waking and leaving our tent each morning...

Nothing is quite as perfect as opening your eyes, smelling the salty air, and walking into the ocean in your pj's...

The kids were in agreement...

Free for the taking!

I'm not sure who was more excited to be gathering seashells... myself or the kids!

They dug through the seaweed to find tiny little mussels...

Frolicking in the jammies...

Vacation is where gull feathers are bookmarks, and seashells are paperweights...

And shoes are meant to be left in a heap...

I like to call this photo, "The United Colors of Johnson"

Tiny feet feet pattering across the sand...

Vacation is also a great time to give your unsuspecting little brother bunny ears...

Or to explore the ocean with your big brother...

Or to take cheesy self-portraits!

But most importantly, vacation is the perfect time to watch the sunsets...

An Apron...

2010-08-24T15:15:00.000-07:00

I do, in fact own an apron. Not just a little twill number, meant to be tied on quickly for prevention of grease spatters and flour smudges, and not even a little flowery pocketed job. Nope, mine is a full fledged, retro floral print, tie behind the back, loop around the neck, full of pockets, with matching hair tie, go grab some pearls, Donna Reed style apron. Even more shocking? I wear it... regularly, and just to flabbergast everyone, I have even worn it to the grocery store. If me from 15 years ago, could have seen me now, hair cropped practical-shoulder-length short, 6 kids, married, career on hold, 3 dogs, apron wearing, bread baking, dress sewing, farmer's market going me, well, suffice it to say, I may have given my pregnancy and motherhood ballooned butt a swift kick, and taken me out to a bar for a stiff shot of bourbon and a good talking to. You see, back then, I was an angsty teen, bleached hair, combat boots, various facial jewelry, etc. I wanted to be a photojournalist, and I promised myself that if I had kids, it would NOT be of the plural realm. It would be kid. One kid. No more. And that was a big *if*. I despised the idea of "sitting home all day wasting away my life" with a houseful of children. I wanted my life to have meaning. I wanted to work, to explore, to travel at a moment's notice. In my mind, children, families, and marriage were all very oppressing. Telling women to stay home was society's way of keeping them "where they belong". Basically, misguided Feminism. I was made ill at the thought of driving a mini-van, I laughed at people who had honor roll and soccer stickers on their cars, and swore to off myself if I EVER owned a home with neighbors closer than a mile away.

Thankfully, I was very naive, and very wrong. Wrong to a level that my immature teenage brain could not have possibly comprehended. Being a successful woman has nothing to do with most of those things. And being a mother, does NOT a sellout make! Here I am, 6 kids later, with a house in a subdivision, my photography on hold, and wearing an apron. For God sakes, I knit! I love my family. My children and husband are the best things to ever happen to my jaded self. Through them, I have experienced incredible joy, devastating loss, hope, sorrow, love, anger, fear, and just plain hilarity. They bring out the best and worst in me, and if I can give a little back to them, by staying home from work for a few years, learning to bake bread, and sewing them cool Halloween costumes, then so be it. They have given me far more. So, cheesy as it sounds, I wear my apron with pride. To me, it represents the things I do to show my family love, and it keeps my Ella Moss dress clean when I fry chicken. I am saddened that I used to have such little respect for stay at home mom's. Some of my best childhood memories, are coming home from school to a tidy home that smelled of an incredible dinner in the oven, with the hum of the washing machine in the background. I would sit at the table with my mom, have a snack, and talk about some aspect of my day. It was grounding, and comforting, like a soft, fluffy quilt that I could wrap around my shoulders on the coldest of days. I want those memories for my kids. I want to be there for them, now, and 20 years down the road, in little fleeting memories of their childhood. I want to show them, to the best of my abilities, that they matter to me.

I am all for Women's Rights, but through the years, I've realized that that is the beauty of it all, I have the choice to be who I want to be, and right now, this is what I choose.

This week... Sun, Sand, Sea...

2010-08-16T17:26:00.000-07:00

I'll be gone for the next 6 or 7 days, and will be enjoying every moment of it! The heat has had us holed up inside for far too long, so a little getaway will be great for the family morale. We're off to Southern California for the rest of the week, camping on Coronado Island, thrifting in San Diego, and absorbing all of the sights, smells, and fantastic aromas at the Little Italy Farmer's Market. I am so excited! I miss the water so very much, so breathing in the fresh, salty air will be the best part of the whole adventure! When I come back, I thought I might have a fun little blog giveaway, so I can share some of my thrifted treasures with my friends and family!

Learning to let go of perfection...

2010-08-12T12:19:00.000-07:00

I am a perfectionist. Upon hearing this, you would automatically assume then, that I have a home that is always neat and tidy, that I finish everything I start, that my children are always wearing clean, pressed clothes, and that my bed is always made. You would be incorrect if you assumed that, exceedingly incorrect. My perfectionism is of a different nature than that of the "classic" perfectionist. It's much more detrimental to our household, at least, it feels that way at times. My perfectionist tendencies lead to complete and utter chaos. It's an ugly, and at times, baffling paradox. I love order, I crave it, I function beautifully when the world around me is aesthetically pleasing and structured. The ugliness happens, however, when the concrete wall of order begins to slowly crumble. The crumbling begins, with a slight deviation in plans, or my inability to accept any help that is "less than perfect". For example, I decide to tackle the laundry pile, I remove from the drier clothes that have tumbled to a desirable level of "fluff", place them in a laundry basket, and carry them away to be immediately folded. You know, folded before the wrinkles set in. Suddenly I hear someone wailing in the bedroom, and run in to find that the dog has chewed up a beloved toy, there are many tears, and much consoling. The chewed up toy incident is then followed by someone needing their tushie wiped, and again by a request for a glass of milk, and again by someone not sharing. 2 hours later I make my way back to the laundry basket, it is wrinkled, horribly, utterly wrinkled. My little perfectionist brain cannot handle the concept of folding wrinkled clothes! They won't fold right, they won't lay right, the Earth may actually stop spinning. So, what happens? Hmmm, I'll just leave it for later, when I have time to fluff it again before folding it. However, it never quite works out that way, does it? Somewhere along the way, someone finds the lonely basket of wrinkled clothing, and uses it in lieu of a napkin, then an innovative child gets the brilliant idea to flip the basket over and hide under it during a game of hide and seek, the dog enters this scenario when he deems the pile of overturned clothes to be the perfect place to rest his weary, shedding hide during nap time. Well, so much for fluffing, back to the laundry pile they go. You see this vicious cycle unfolding? Now lets move on. Hmmm, the brilliant thought crosses my mind to clean up the kids room. I start by picking up, then vacuuming, then I need to spot clean the carpet, then wash the walls, then I need to completely reorganize all of the kids toys. I dump them all into a huge pile, and start the tedious task of trying to separate the Legos from the Playmobil from the Littlest Pet Shop from the Star Wars Toys. Hmmm, well, now that I have spent ever so much time sorting them, I can't possibly just dump them all into a tote. That would be too easy, and such an eyesore. I need little individual plastic compartments to put them in. The trouble is, I don't actually own any such compartments. No worries, I'll just run out in a bit and grab them. Only "in a bit" never happens, because as usual, life happens instead. Or how about the beautiful library I had amassed for the kids when my oldest was a kindergartener, the poor kids never dared read the books, for fear they may not put them away as perfectly as mom had. I mean, surely a smart 5 year old like Caleb, and his precocious 2 year old brother could figure the concept of alphabetizing the authors, or at least sorting by collection and size... right? I alienated my husband, and all of his good intentions, because his help was never quite up to par, he'd help fold towels, and when he looked away, I would sneakily refold it to match mine. So he would just quit helping, and I, never having the proper tools, style, color, equipment, etc, would just bury myself in a house filled with unfinished projects, and things that were never really enjoyed to their fullest potential, because the "perfect" circumstances had never arisen to finish or enjoy them. So there you have it. That state of mind mixes like oil and water with parenting. Being a parent is the epitome of learning to let the little things slide. It's all about enjoying the moment, imperfections, learning, exploring, loving, letting go of our untarnished ideals, and embracing a small, perfectly imperfect tiny person, who loves you unconditionally. It's pretty amazing to me. I mean, my kids love me in spite of the fact that their bedroom is more Orphanage-chic, than Boho-chic. In spite of the fact that I sometimes fold their clothes wrinkled, and, my biggest revelation, is that I am happier for it, much, MUCH happier. I have learned to accept the fact that my youngest hates to wear any form of clothing other than underoos (even though I spent so much time picking out his cute little warbrobe), and I am okay with a messy bookshelf, because guess what? I'm damn lucky I have kids who love to read, and I will even let my kids play with a giant bucket of mud, simply because it's the greatest thrill they can find on a hot summer day. I've realized that if the kitchen floor is sandy, my husband can sweep it, instead of waiting for the perfect opportunity to arise, so that I may sweep it to perfection. And if he misses a few spots? So what, that's what flip flops are for. I think that parenting may indeed have been the single most cathartic thing for my odd form of perfectionism. It has taught me to let go of the little things. In doing so, I have learned to enjoy so much more than I did before I had my kids.

Mr Underoos, after being let wild with a set of markers. By the way, he remained in this markered up state for a good 24 hours before getting a bath...

The untidy bookshelf...

And the bucket-o-mud...

Smitten...

2010-08-10T10:50:00.000-07:00

Okay, so this blog entry really has nothing much to do with me, but I still had to share my giddy excitement. I have been a fan of Olive Juice Kids clothing for several years now, but I've never been quite so in love with a line of clothing before, as I am with this season's fall line. Girls AND boys clothing that are demure, sassy, preppy, country, and a little bit French. The whole line has me dying to pick apples, rake leaves, make squash soup, and play jump rope. It invokes images of crisp, sunshiney days, pink noses, and rain drops. You simply MUST check it out! If you sew, like me, the fabrics and colors are so inspiring just to look at. I think though, that I may just have to spring for a few items for my kids...

like this!

button shoulders!!

peter pan collars...sigh...

Now, all of my family members know that I am madly in love with Oliver + S sewing patterns, because they really embody all of the qualities mentioned above, but for those friends of mine out there who haven't yet heard of them, or tried their hand at sewing, check em out! The patterns are timeless, easy, clear and concise. I think just the mindset of fall approaching, and the kids in school, learning and creating, has me positively itching to make something!

One more day....

2010-08-08T08:00:00.000-07:00

I am currently a source of very mixed emotions. Tomorrow the summer officially ends here in Arizona (a bit earlier than elsewhere) and my kids go back to school. This is a welcome change of pace for my older boys. The summer here does not allow for the wild, action-packed energy release of my childhood summers. The heat is so unholy, that any sort of outdoor activity, aside from running through the sprinklers at 6am, is utterly out of the question. Days are spent indoors reading, cooking with mom, building Lego and Playmobil cities, hitting up thrift stores, watching old Godzilla movies, terrorizing the playroom, and playing video games. Every once in awhile, we receive the glorious gift of an overcast sky, and the temperature holds at double, not triple digits, but for the most part, our summers are spent either indoors, or out of the state. So, school will actually fulfill their longing to get out of the house. Reintroduce them to their friends, and stimulate those little brains. It also means we are one month closer to cooler weather.

For my daughter, however, tomorrow marks a milestone. One that fills me with many emotions. Tomorrow, is (drumroll please) her first day of kindergarten. We started her a year late, because though she is smart as a whip, she is incredibly tiny, having come to us with her twin sister, nearly 15 weeks premature. I remember watching her, in the NICU, tiny and struggling for life, and my only prayer, was that she would make it home, and live to grow into a beautiful, healthy little girl. I am eternally thankful that at least one of our precious daughters made it home, and when I think of all the obstacles she faced, I am simply overcome with how beautifully perfect she is. How wise, sensitive, intelligent, fierce, and intuitive. I just didn't know she would grow up so very fast. I told her yesterday, "I'm not ready for you to start school..." and she looked at me with a determination I didn't expect, and said haughtily "Well, I AM ready to start school!!" We've been protecting her for so very long, that the idea of her going off into the actual world, without her mommy and daddy and band of hovering brothers around, is well, somewhat intimidating to me. I know SHE is ready, as she so emphatically let me know, but I am not quite there yet. I have, it seems, one day to get there. I look over at my youngest, Ty, my last little person to spend his days home with mommy, and feel a pang. He is 4, and his time will come soon too, but right now, we will cherish our days together. I have thought seriously about homeschooling, and I am constantly amazed by the mom's who can pull this off, but it seems I do not posses this grace. I am slightly impatient by nature, and sometimes more restless than my toddler. I need my quiet, and time to be me, so that I can be the best for them. Knowing my nature, I just don't think it's the best choice for our family, but as days like tomorrow approach, I find myself wishing I had what it takes to keep them home with me, say, forever??

I took this picture, I believe, in the early spring of 2008. It's one of my most beloved photos of Stella. I had wanted to take her out for some fun pictures, but she was in a very pensive, somewhat sad sort of mood. I finally just resigned myself to the fact that photos weren't going to happen that day, and we walked through the grass, back to our car, I turned to take her hand, and saw the most stunning picture of childhood. I snapped this one photo, slightly out of focus, and carelessly framed, yet in my eyes it's perfection. Her journey through life reflected in the winding path behind her, but her back is to it, and her childish beauty is so fully embraced, and apparent...

$35.00

2010-08-06T11:56:00.000-07:00

If you go thrifting with me, $35 will get you a dandy armload. Why bring $35 you ask? Well, it's just a number that sits well with me. It's not as paltry and meager sounding as $25, and doesn't impact my budget as much as $50. It's a nice, middle of the road, get stuff done sort of number. It's also challenging. I used to head to the store, looking for a new pair of back to school shoes, practically sweating with nerves, in hopes that I could find the trifecta of the shoe world, (cute, well-made, affordable), only to leave sorely disappointed with one of two outcomes...

A. I would buy a pair of shoes that was well-made, and very cute, and blew my budget to heck, leaving me feeling slightly ill...

or

B. I would feel totally defeated by the prices of shoes that fell into the well-made category, and would resign myself to buying a pair of cheapies from Target or some other such store, again feeling ill from knowing another purchase was imminent after the low budget compromise shoes fell to pieces.

Either way, I left feeling ill, so it was a lose/lose situation. Not these days, not since I've reformed my shopping habits. My little princess girl is starting kindergarten on Monday (sigh...) and she needs shoes desperately. So, I took my allotted $35, and set out with one of my boys, to see what I could get done.

Instead of a sick stomach, this is what $35 got me!!

A spankin' new spring form pan to make the chocolate peanut butter pie we've been eying for awhile... in the hopes it tastes as yummy as my Great-grandmas!

Lovely little violet Birkenstock clogs for the schoolgirl to be...

A very breezy and deliciously green J Crew dress for mommy, so she can also look lovely on the first day of school...

A precious patchwork Naartjie top for the little lady...

A second pair of shoes for kindergarten, made from recycled tires, and recycled AGAIN, by us!

A little Lands' End daisy skirt with built in shorts, for little girls who adore cartwheels and skirts, a potentially embarrassing combination.

A pair of Keen back to school shoes for big brother...

A precious Hanna Andersson fall jacket, which, sadly does not fit the girl-child, but happily, will fetch mommy a nice profit on ebay, hence-forth paying for the majority of these purchases...

A splashy, bright, new with tags Gymboree bubble skirt...

A new with tags Gymboree Watermelon Picnic outift...

And one cute little gift for the aspiring student...

It will also get you a plate of delicious, homemade blueberry scones. Well, in our family, the early bird's are the ones who get the Blueberry scones. They are the fuel of choice for our crack-of-dawn Goodwilling adventures, and are generally eaten, warm and crumbly, while driving to our first stop.

Goodwill Blueberry Scones
2 cups all purpose flour
1/2 cup sugar
1 teaspoon baking soda
2 teaspoons cream of tartar
a pinch of kosher salt
1 teaspoon-ish of lemon zest (grated)
1/2 cup (1 stick) of diced, chilled butter
2/3 cup buttermilk
1 cup fresh blueberries

Preheat your oven to 450. Mix together your first 6 ingredients. Add in your diced, chilled butter and cut it in with a pastry cutter. Mix until the butter chunks are pea-sized, and well coated in flour.

Add your yummy blueberries, then gently fold in your buttermilk, to avoid squishing your berries. It's okay if a few squish. You may need to take off your rings (unless you want them permanently adhered to your fingers) and finish mixing your dough by hand, it will be pretty stick upon finishing, but should still form a nice ball.

Roll your dough out onto a floured surface, working quickly so the butter pieces don't soften too much (chilled butter gives your scones texture), and form a rough square that's about 1/2 inch thick...

Cut the square into four smaller squares, then cut each square in half diagonally to make triangles (tradition scones are shaped this way). Each small square will look like this...

giving you 8 scones total

Using a thin spatula, transfer your scones to a lightly greased cookie sheet, and sprinkle the tops with raw, or organic sugar. Pop em in the over for 12-14 minutes, or until the tops are lightly golden brown, allow to cool for 5-10 minutes, and serve.

Clean up!

Eating in...

2010-08-04T08:30:00.000-07:00

Why do I love this cookbook? It can turn a measly can of crushed tomatoes, into this delectable morsel...

This is my most beloved cookbook. I purchased it about 7 years ago, and it's become one of "those" cookbooks. You know the kind, the one that sits on your grandmother's shelf, the jacket long gone, the dog-eared pages covered in specks of oil, dusted with floor, and filled with little hand penned notations. The cookbook that speaks for the cook. The recipes are the owners interpretation of love and warmth, and all that is wholesome. This cookbook has traveled the country with us, survived a house fire, a foreclosure purging, and my kids hands. It was packed by candlelight in our freezing cold Michigan home, the power long shut off from lack of payment, in the middle of a blizzard. It was one of the literally handful of personal items I chose to take with us to Arizona, for a new start. I've cooked from it for every reason imaginable... birthdays, anniversaries, and at times, because the only item in our cupboard worth mentioning was a can of stewed tomatoes. It's filled with memories, and love, and delicious Italian food. I purchased a backup copy on Ebay, because this cookbook is now out of print, but the "backup" will not be used, unless something horrid happens to mine. With it's pristine jacket, stark white pages, and oil-free appearance, it just wouldn't be the same.

One of my favorite budget friendly recipes adapted from The Food of Italy...

Sausage and Lentil Stew

8 tablespoons olive oil (I never use anything but first cold-pressed)
1.5-2 pounds of ground italian sausage (if you can find a store that makes it fresh it's worth it!)
1 medium yellow onion, chopped
2-3 large cloves of garic, chopped
a small handful of chopped fresh rosemary (this is free if you're lucky enough to live where it grows)
28 oz can of crushed tomatoes (crushed are better than diced, they are canned at the peek of ripeness)
16 lightly crushed juniper berries. You can get these at many stores that offer spices in bulk, but may omit them if you do not have them.
a pinch of grated nutmeg (do not skip this! It's a lovely layer of flavor)
1 bay leaf
a large pinch of cayenne pepper (skip if you don't like mild spice)
3/4 cup red or white wine (red adds more intense flavor, but both work well)
1/2 cup of lentils (rinsed)

Heat the oil in a large skillet. Add the chopped onions, and cook until they are translucent. Add your garlic, and ground sausage. Break up your sausage and cook until browned.

Stir in your chopped rosemary, then add your canned tomatoes and simmer to reduce for a about 5-10 minutes. Don't let it burn on the bottom.

I had to transfer my mixture to a cast iron stock pot, because my skillet was far too wimpy. I don't recommend this step, it can be messy, and requires enlisting your husband's help! To avoid this little mishap, just use a VERY large skillet, or a non-stick stock pot for the duration.

Add the juniper berries, nutmeg, bay leaf, cayenne pepper, wine, 1 2/3 cups water. Bring to a boil, then add your lentils, turn heat down and allow to simmer, covered, for about 40 mins or until your lentils are tender.

This is traditionally a stew, but I love to serve it over homemade crusty bread, topped with freshly shaved parmesan, and drizzled with olive oil. Oh my, this is heavenly!

You can make a very basic and easy crusty bread with following...
take 11-12 oz of very warm water.
dissolve a tablespoon of sugar, and 2 teaspoons of dry active yeast in it. Let sit in a draft free spot for 10 mins or until it becomes frothy. Mix in 2 teaspoons or so of olive oil, a few pinches of kosher salt (roughly 1.5 teaspoons), and 4 cups of unbleached, all purpose flour. Mix until combined, then flop your dough out on to a lightly floured, clean surface. Knead for 5 or 6 minutes, and place back in an oil coated, clean bowl. Cover with a damp cloth and allow to rise for 40 mins or until doubled in size. Take your dough out, punch it down, and shape it into a loaf, whatever shape you like, we prefer oblong or round, and place in a lightly oiled baking sheet. Score the top with a criss-cross or parallel lines (use a very sharp serrated knife, or a ravor) and again cover with a damp cloth. Allow to rise in a warm, draft free spot for about 30 mins, then plunk it in a preheated (375) oven, for 20-30 minutes, or until golden brown on top. Remove from oven, and allow to cool on the baking sheet, and COVER with a damp cloth again. Serve after about 20 mins.

This meal just begs to be served with a nice bottle of chilled wine, and it reheats beautifully, possibly even better than the first time round!

Thumbelina

2010-08-03T17:28:00.000-07:00

I had several things I wanted to blog about today... the fantastic blueberry scones we made this weekend, the most perfect loaf of bread ever, our adventures in the "trenches" thrifting this past Saturday, and so much more. So I found a quiet moment, and headed to my room to type. Then I looked over at the bed and saw my little Thumbelina napping away, dreaming and peaceful, and blanketed in the shadows of the late afternoon. So still. So quiet. So beautiful. All of the planned out thoughts of my blog post melted away, and I yearned to photograph her. The images are not perfect, and weren't taken with the lens, or even camera of my choice, had the window of opportunity been more than mere seconds, but even still, I laid quietly, with my camera, hardly daring to breath, and willing the camera shutter to function in silence so as not to disturb her, and captured this little elusive, and fleeting bit of innocence...

A day...

2010-07-29T07:51:00.000-07:00

I'd love to share pictures from yesterday that are filled with domestic magic, but the truth is, they do not exist. Not yesterday anyway. It was a day. Just a long, tedious, boring, moms-under-the-weather sort of day. I've been sick and just "out of it" for a about 2 weeks now, and it all just came to a head yesterday. I looked around the house at the messy playroom, undone dishes, laundry spilling over into the hallway, empty pantry, and neglected closets, and I just kind of melted into a defeated pile of mush. I had a moment of inspired motivation, and attempted some laundry and ironing, but a few minutes into it, and I was shaking and clammy, and just generally feeling awful. I told my kids to watch movies for the rest of the day, yes, I said day, and retreated to my room with a piece of homemade bread, slathered generously with Nutella, a book, my laptop, and my dogs.

We were out of milk, and anything even remotely breakfast-like, because in my weakened state, I've avoided the grocery store like the plague, so breakfast was dry cereal, and dehydrated strawberries. With my mom's help, lunch was a pieced together mix of grilled cheese, and chicken tostadas (a la leftovers). While I attempted to bake some bread for dinner, I fell asleep for about 3 and a half hours, and left it on the counter to rise, and then subsequently, deflate. I still popped it in the oven, but it tasted like a big, bland, cracker-ish mass. I was short on patience, and generally not pleasant to be around. My kids, God love 'em, were very understanding, and aside from a few rows, they did rather well. My oldest tried to go a little vigilante on a few occasions, but apologized for being bossy and loud, and returned to his complacent self. I was never happier to hear my husband walk through the front door. We all have those days... Mine was yesterday. Today I'm aiming low, in hopes that I'll impress myself. A load of laundry, a shower, a loaf of bread...

Lots of this was consumed by me...

inspired by finding this...

and this...

I finally got motivated to pick up some basics, at 10pm at night. At that point, my only option was my friendly Walmart Neighborhood Market. I had never seen a WNM prior to living in Arizona. I guess it's the Walmartian way of trying to give off that "small town, friendly, wholesome" vibe. I must say, their evil ruse works a bit, because I find myself far more inclined to walk into a "neighborhood market" than I do the evil, bustling mega mart version down the road. That, my friends, is what marketing is all about...

On the way home from the store (Lamont drove me) I decided to drag my shutter on my camera, and make cool "art" out of the tail lights of cars, and traffic lights. Uh-huh, quite possibly the highlight of my awesome day...

Hoping you all had a better day than I did!!

Goodwill Hunting

2010-07-27T12:26:00.000-07:00

I included the word "impoverished" in the title of this blog for good reason. Okay, so while we're not exactly impoverished, we are on a pretty tight budget. Husband's in the military, my business is on hiatus, a house full of kids and pets, school loans, hospital bills, can you feel the belt tightening? I can. That being said, I really must confess, I love nice things, and I appreciate quality. This can be both a blessing and a curse, and I blame my mother and grandmother entirely. I am the girl that would rather own 1 pair of high end, well made jeans, than 10 pairs of cheap-o jeans. I would rather use half the amount of luscious, splurge-worthy perfume, than go through bottles of cheap body spritz. I like to buy my kids a pair of shoes, and have them actually last all school year, unless of course, they've simply outgrown them. I like towels from Garnet Hill, bedding from Pottery Barn, dishes from Le Creuset, and I love to shop at Anthropologie. I have a penchant for fine antique dishes and furniture, and love anything and everything that is Fire King, and highly collectible. At times this "love of quality", as I call it, has gotten me into trouble, ahem, with my husband. One too many purchases for the kids at Mini Boden, a few too many frilly "one of a kind" toddler dresses from Matilda Jane, and yes, the list goes on.

I tried, I really and honestly tried to just start loving cheap stuff, but I can't, you see, it's in my blood! Lamont and I would get into heated arguments as to why I would buy Stella only 2 outfits for the winter from Hanna Andersson, versus an entire, legititmate wardrobe from Target. Well, you see, because I want to buy quality items that will actually last all winter. Except, the problem is, I would never quite stop at only 2 outfits, or 1 pair of shoes. I would go a little crazy. Very reminiscent of a small scale version of Rebecca Bloomwood. So, I made a pledge to myself and my husband, awhile back, to change my ways. Sort of.

So, I realized that I just can't quit loving the things I love, but I can be smarter about what we need, and how I obtain what we need. Actually, I have it down to a near science. I have since taken up sewing, but lets face it, with a family of 7, that's not really practical, not if you're me anyway. My life is much happier, and so is my budget, since my discovery of... Goodwill of Central Arizona. Yes, a stuff snob like myself, has found happiness through Goodwill. I'd be lying if I told you that the first few times I went to Goodwill, the grimy dust-like coating on everything, and "weird used stuff smell" didn't bother me in the slightest. Um, it did. A lot. And I did find that I met people of a very "interesting" caliber. But the first time I held a BCBG cashmere sweater (still wearing the original $188 price tag) in my trembling hands, and paid less than $4 for it, I was hooked. Hooked! I dug through the racks as fiercely and passionately as if I were Ponce de Leon searching for the Fountain of Youth. I honed my thrifting skills, and gained a speed and precision that would awe a Chinese factory worker. On one occasion, I even heard some cute Hispanic women whisper to each other to "hurry up!!" in Spanish when they saw me working the racks like a well-oiled machine. After my first month of serious Goodwilling, I had amassed quite a wardrobe for all members of our home, especially after my discovery of the bi-weekly wonder known as "Half Off Saturday", where everything is, indeed, half off. I would look at Lamont with armloads of things for our home, with my eyes silently pleading "is it okay if I get this", and he would just smile and nod. I would get to the register and watch the pile of name brand items, most in new or nearly new condition, grow and bulge. I'd brace myself for the total, having already mentally totaled the MSRP's to be well above $500. And then cashier speaks, "your total is $21.10". Are you for real?!?! Are you flippin serious?!?! You do realize that just this one J Crew dress is worth over $300?!?! I look around almost nervously, waiting for the loss prevention to show up and accuse me of stealing. But nobody shows up. The cashier just stares at me disdainfully, willing me to hurry the heck up so the 150 people behind me can check out. I pay her, take my loot, and frantically run from the store, high on adrenalin. This is crazy, crazy!! Lamont just laughs and smiles, knowing that I just went balls out crazy, shopping for 4 hours, and it only set us back 20 bucks. Ah, Goodwill. After many more trips to Goodwill, I also had this landmark revelation: rich people who donate to Goodwill do not have messy children like the rest of the middle class world. It's true! They must have little, tidy, Stepfordesque robot children, because all of the clothing they donate looks pristine. It was a crazy, yet enlightening discovery to be sure.

Some of last month's finds...

A beautiful pink and brown Hanna Andersson play dress I scored for Stella (worth $36) for $1.49

I found this new J Crew top for myself for $1.99

Scrumptious bows and ruffles!

Coral silk J Crew top, also new I paid a hefty $3.99 for!

Twisted sleeves, mmmm...

Breezy ALSO NEW Banana Republic cotton lawn top for $2.49

I love the details on it...

Yummy Odille dress from Anthropologie, worth $159, I paid $3.

One of my faves, a soft organic cotton and linen Stuart Brown top, $1.99

Little boys Mini Boden top, in perfect shape, for $2.99

TONS of gorgeous Pottery Barn Kids and Teen bedding...chump change...

Lots and lots of $20, $30, and $40 cookbooks for $1.99 and less. Usually they appear brand new

So, my affair with Goodwill has gone on for several months now, and I've found that if I "flip" a particularly good find on Ebay (such as the Lilly Pulitzer dress I got for $4.99) I can actually profit from my shopping. The mere thought still makes my head spin. Yes, I do grasp the fact that I live on the outskirts of a major metropolitan area (which includes Scottsdale), but even if I lived further out, I would still swing a road trip every month or two, to the nearest big city, because the savings and finds are totally worth it! There's something to be said for the thrill of the hunt, and I can confidently say, no matter how much wiggle room our budget has, I will keep Goodwilling. And just read this sweet little factoid:

Goodwill's resale and recycling efforts keep more than 100 million pounds of items out of landfills every year.

So, give it a try, go buy some comfy shoes, hand sanitizer, and check out your local non-profit thrift shop. :) And don't forget to wash your hands when you get home, it's still the first thing I do.

Tiny things...

2010-07-27T08:36:00.000-07:00

Who doesn't love tiny things? Is it just me? Are there other's out there that find anything can be made more appealing by shrinking it down? Mini cupcakes, mini M&M's, mini lipgloss, mini perfume, mini shampoo, mini coopers, mini golf, you get the picture right? It all suddenly becomes so very cute and nostalgic. Even when I'm packing for a trip, suddenly a mini, travel size deodorant seems cooler. I once told Lamont that some prankster should design mini commonplace items, things that we all use on a daily basis. Keys, utensils, napkins, toilet paper rolls, windex, etc, and then you could prank people by replacing their regular sized items with mini "shrink ray" inspired versions. Yeah, that's how obsessed I am with tiny things. I'm not even sure I used my better judgement by sharing that last tidbit.

So, naturally, when I found the items in the photos below on a recent Goodwill outing, I HAD to purchase them. Are they for the children you ask? Oh no, they are for ME. All for me, and currently reside on my dresser. Oh how I adore them in all of their teeny tiny glory!

Squeee! A tiny pretzel!

The bacon looks a snit anemic in color, but it's tiny so who really cares?

Seriously?! How cool is this?

And finally, the piece de resistance...

And just because they are tiny, cute, and look DELICIOUS, check out these mini french macaroons on Etsy. I think I need to make French macaroons now!

Our weekend... Perfect pancakes, pasta, parks, and pictures.

2010-07-26T10:29:00.000-07:00

It was a very rare and lovely overcast, rainy weekend. The kind of weekend you usually only dream of here in late July. Beautiful cloudy skies, ozone filling your nostrils, and warm rain falling on your bare shoulders. We seized the moment in every capacity that we could think of. It's too hot for so many things during the Arizona summers, so this little reprieve was very well-received indeed!

Pancakes just don't feel right on a 112 degree morning, more like chilled greek yogurt, and frozen berries. So, when we awoke to find the thermometer still well below 100, JJ and I ran into the kitchen and got out my famous pancake recipe. We are pancake connoisseurs in our home, and Bisquick just won't suffice. Several years back, I went on a recipe rampage, trying out insane amounts of pancake recipes, until I came to one conclusion... there was no such thing as a perfect pancake. Not too spongey, not too buttery, not too oily, not too flat, not too sweet, not to salty, not too bland, not to wheat-y, my list of requirements went on and on and on... It finally occurred to me, I had to create the Perfect Pancake Recipe. After much trial and error, I came up with an award winning, wholesome, extremely fluffy, incredibly flavorful recipe that was awarded the title of "Perfect Pancake" by my clan of children, and husband. That was the recipe we finally got to bust out this past weekend, after lying dormant all summer long.

Perfect Pancakes (in our opinion!!)
1.5 cups AP flour
0.5 cups whole wheat flour
2.5 tablespoons sugar
1 tablespoon baking POWDER
1 teaspoon baking SODA
0.5 teaspoons kosher salt
1 cup buttermilk
1 cup whole milk
3 lightly whisked large eggs
1 tablespoon vegetable oil
1.5 teaspoons vanilla extract

First combine your dry ingredients...

Combine your wet ingredients in a separate, smaller bowl...

Lightly mix wet and dry indredients together, and cook on a large skillet over medium heat (or just below medium), and flip when the top is bubbly. Serve and devour! These freeze and reheat very well too, and are a school morning favorite here. I just place a square of waxed paper or foil between them, and store them in a freezer bag. I have 5 kids, so my recipes are always sized accordingly, feel free to halve the recipe if you only have 1 or 2 little people!

After the pancake breakfast, we were all going stir crazy on our syrup-induced sugar high, and the weather was still lovely and mild, so off to the park we went. Never mind the frequent sprinkles on our walk, ANY day below 100 warrants a trip the park in these parts! The kids (and dog) were ecstatic, and played in the cool breeze until lunchtime, it was a well needed energy release! The other like-minded families at the park bolted when the sprinkle became more of a drizzle, but we savored every last bit of it, kicked off our shoes, and continued to play!

see, we DO have beautiful foliage in the desert!

I found Ty curled up on the picnic table enjoying the gentle breeze...

When the rain picked up, and we were again housebound, crayons, markers, and papers exploded across the dining table!

We even treated ourselves to a few robust Italian dinners, with home cooked breads and sauces. Again, a rare summer occurrence because of the heat. Friends, family, a few bottles of wine, and a cram-packed table made for the perfecting ending to each day!

Yummy, meaty olives for the pasta sauce

Cozy dinnertime commotion...

Hope you all had a wonderful weekend!

My fish at the bottom of the page.

2010-07-26T08:20:00.000-07:00

I just became quite fascinated with them, and realized (quite by accident) that they will follow my arrow/mouse around inside their little pond. Wherever I drag my mouse, my little fish will soon gather round wagging their fishy tails! Try it! Am I lame for being excited about this discovery?

A table.

2010-07-22T08:36:00.000-07:00

I have a dining table. For the first time EVER, our family eats at a beautiful, hammered Indian Rosewood dining table. Not the tiny, slatted patio table from IKEA that we used for an eternity. The table that our dogs loved and our floor hated, because every last crumb would eventually make it's way down to the floor. The table that taught my dog to stick his long tongue up through the slats, and knock over a tumbler full of milk, so he could lap it up vigorously off the floor. The table that I got so sick of trying to wipe down nightly, only to see all of the mess fall down onto the freshly mopped floor, that I actually began ritualistically hosing it down in the back yard. I don't know which is more pathetic, the hosing down of the table, or the fact that my kids ate at a table that was so slight, I could easily lug it around our home TO hose down. That awful slatted patio table was so small that only the kids could fit at it. The Soldier and I would sit on the sofa, or even better, hover over the kitchen counter to scarf down our meals. It was a sight to behold.

The goings on at the table had a very anarchistic, Lord of the Flies sort of feel, with the kids policing themselves, and disregarding all manners that have been learned. We parents would occasionally fling some guidance in their direction "don't use your brother's ketchup", "say please", "make sure your silverware doesn't fall between the slats" "watch out for the dog", etc, etc, but it generally fell on deaf ears. We couldn't lead by example, so it all felt rather hypocritical. It was sad indeed. Eventually, it became too much to bear, and with our tax return windfall, we finally bit the bullet. I picked out a huge, beautiful, rustic dining table, with two looooooong matching benches. The kind of table that makes you long for a home cooked thanksgiving dinner, or a lazy sunday brunch. The kind of table that begs for a loaf of crusty homemade bread, and a fresh picked bunch of wildflowers.

My mom went with me to World Market to pick up the table and benches, and I must confess, I was so overcome with excitement that I worked myself up into a killer migraine. It was just too much for my patio-slat table mind to grasp. I was so sure that this elusive dream of a table would never come to fruition. Once we were driving from the parking lot, with my beautiful table and benches loaded up in the Bronco, I casually mentioned that if we were involved in a car accident on the way home, and I never lived to see my table put to good use, I would like to be laid out like Snow White, upon my table, at my visitation, with my family surrounding me on the benches. My mom thought it was a horrid idea, and assured me I would indeed live to see my table in my home.

When I walked through the front door, the kids yelled, and laughed, and excitedly climbed over the HUGE, cardboard covered table top, peering through any crack in the wrapping they could find. It was a torturous 24 hours before my table was unwrapped and up and running. I Old Englished it from top to bottom, not necessarily because it needed it, but because I wanted to. The smell of rosewood and polish was intoxicating, and I ran to my cupboard and set out a pale green vase, and stuffed it full of bougeainvilla, then placed two cherished items upon it's lovely surface; a little bird topped ceramic sugar bowl from my husband, and an adorable little coffee mug from my sister. Then, we all sat at the table and every last one of us FIT! The dogs were sligtly bewildered, how were they supposed to knock over milk on this strange new table, there were no slats??!! I'm happy to say the table has been used regularly now for a few months, and the children are again relatively polite, and well-mannered, and the dinnertime conversation is entertaining to a degree I had never imagined! I look forward to our meals now, as do the children. Don't take your dining table for granted! Sit down for a home cooked meal with your kids, and relish the warmth, conversation, and good food...

2010-07-20T14:40:00.000-07:00

Flailing, flying, in the air,

Laughing, playing without a care,

Ty and Mommy, what a pair!

Furry friends

2010-07-15T09:00:00.000-07:00

As much as they drive me nutty, raiding the trash, barking at naptime, hiding under the couch chewing on toys, licking my damp legs after I climb out of the shower, I wouldn't trade my furballs for the world. They are always ecstatic to see me, and display amusing antics second only to my kids. They are the best nap buddies, keep me company during long walks and runs, and provide a watchful, reassuring set of eyes and ears while my kids are asleep. Meet the motley crew...

Bo, our boxer mix, who is about to turn 1, is the first face I see upon waking every morning, ha!

Next we have Lilly, best friend to my kids, victim of countless hours of "dress up", mama to all other dogs in the house, and resident princess...

And lastly, Black Dog, a sweet, playful, and spunky little stray we took in (see blog below for her story)...

Bo, assuming his favorite afternoon nap position, which we refer to as "the dead cockroach"...

Javen took this picture of me and two of my furries...

An adorable little Goodwill find I bought in honor of my pooches... isn't he cute?!

time for a "look"

2010-07-14T12:28:00.000-07:00

In the name of simplicity, and the meaning behind this blog, I've left it completely UN-customized, and decor free. I started the blog as an online outlet, mainly for my own eyes, so there was no need to personalize it, but as the days have progressed, I've come to realize that it bores me, and the photographer in me longs to see pretty pictures and color. So, whether or not I am the only reader of my blog, I will be sprucing up my space over the coming months. How fun! It's almost like decorating a room of my house... for free!

Melancholy skies....

2010-07-13T21:21:00.000-07:00

I have always been that mercurial soul that can bask in the late afternoon sun, and feel it's glorious warmth soak into my skin and hair, and in the next breath, long to breath in the cool, moist air, laden with the ripe scents of greenery after a ferocious storm... taking in the beautiful, gray, melancholy sky. Other than the last dreary month of winter, when the snow turns an unappealing brown, and the dull, vacant ground peeks out for it's first glimpse of the world, I always had a perfect balance of the seasons. The coast of West Michigan is known for it's fiesty seasons, all of them seeming to reach their fullest potential. I never really felt lacking. After a particularly brutal winter, however, in 2008/09, I must admit that for the first time I felt ready to move on to a "milder" climate. Arizona is where we ended up. The Sunshine State. What could be better right? The sun shines 90% of the year here, and a "cloudy" day here, would have been considered mostly sunny back home. Of course, I wasn't so naive to know that the eternal sunshine came with a price, ungodly hot summers, but that seemed to pale in comparison to the thought of the glorious sun, shining down on me day after day.

1 year and a half later, and I am full. Full of sunshine. I never REALLY realized how badly I would miss those ever-changing seasons that seemed to perfectly synchronize with my moods.On days when I just don't feel like bubbling over with sunshiney happiness, the glaring ball in the sky almost seems to mock me. Reminding me that while I may be feeling somewhat complacent, the rest of the world is brimming with radiant joy. I crave the swirling, angry skies, and the smell of rain in the air. Gloomy, shadowless days, with a cold breeze. I need those days, those skies. With this revelation, came the news that our military life may have us uprooting again in the next year, and although I have grown to love many aspects of the desert, a certain relief comes with knowing that this is not the place I will call home. I'm holding out for a locale more suited to my personality, or personalities...

Letting go...

2010-07-12T14:17:00.000-07:00

I think I am as close as I'll ever be to letting go...in a good way. For my entire life I have had all of these plans, all of these ideas of who I should be, and who I want to be. If life threw me a curveball, as inevitably tends to happen, I would lose my ever living mind and wallow in the "depths of despair" as Anne Shirley would say. I would abandon things I love, because it didn't seem to fit the mold of who I should be, and I would pursue things I had no interest in because I mistakenly thought that's who I wanted to be. I was always associating who I "am" with what I did, wore, read, and associated with. An eternal identity crisis. Sometimes, in my teens and early 20's, I would be so confused, and so desperate to find "me", that I would sit down with a pen and a pad of paper for hours on end, and just write down things that I loved, hated, and that I felt defined me as a person... somehow believing that by reading this list over and over, I would make the strange melange of loves, likes, interests, passions, secrets, and ideals that was me, be okay, and seem acceptable to the world and myself. It bothered me that I didn't fit in with any one group at school or at work. I was bits and pieces of every clique I hung out with, and nothing really felt right.

I have wanted to describe myself as many things, apply lots of labels to myself, some of them to serve the purpose of making me worthwhile, a commodity. Isn't it strange to try and describe yourself without using words that are labels. It seems nearly impossible to describe the essence of me without slapping them all across my forehead. It reminds me of a scene in Anger Management with Adam Sandler and Jack Nicholson. Sandler's character is at an anger management group led by Nicholson, and when Jack asks Adam Sandler to describe himself to the group, Adam's character keeps refrencing his jobs, his likes, what he does, where he lives, etc, etc. Jack Nicholson's character aggravates Sandler by continually reminding him that those things don't describe HIM, as a person, Sandler keeps getting more and more flustered, because he can't seem to describe himself without applying all of these labels. It's all he knows, all that he can think of to reference himself, to describe who he is. I cannot tell you how long I felt like that. How can I describe myself without using words like, mom, photographer, wife, friend, daughter, employee, sister, student, artsy, young, bohemian, crafty, creative, etc. It seems so hard. To me it was like the answers to life lie in some far off, perfect combination of labels. Like, if I called myself a "young, trendy, creative, on-the-ball, bohemian, photographer, mom" then all would be right in the world, and people would love me, aspire to be me, or at least (and somedays at the most) just accept me. But in order to be those things, I found the need to abandon true pieces of who I am, and just leave them along the dirt path. Surely, a hip, young, photographer mom wouldn't have a penchant for collecting and wearing aprons, or secretly loving movies about the Old West, or occassionally voting conservative, or crying myself to sleep because I never feel good enough, or struggling with self worth, or letting my kids watch tv for 6 hours straight every now and then, just to get work done without nagging. I either felt the need to keep parts of who I was a secret, or just totally abandon them. And of course in turn, I felt even more conflicted about who I was, and seemed to fit in even less. Just a stupid, viscious cycle.

I feel blessed to have endured many of the things we have endured in recent years, blessed and cursed all at once. It's given me a huge wakeup call. The ability to realize that who I AM, can't and shouldn't be created and molded by my environment, my choices, my decisions, my friends, my hobbies, my loves, my career, etc. THOSE things will be molded and chosen and created because of who I am. I'm okay with the fact that while right now, I love to knit, and sew doll clothes, and read books about Italy, and avoid church, and laugh with my husband at rediculous movies, and cry in the laundry room when I miss my daughter, next year I may not be that person at all. I know I will be me. I have no deadline for self-discovery, no set of stringent rules, and no labels that give me worth. Just me.

Thinking of my baby girl.

2010-07-08T09:25:00.000-07:00

Just over 5 years ago, my twin daughters were born. 14 weeks early. After a long, weary fight, Stella made it home, and Mya went to a home of another sort... she passed away at 6 months of age. I miss her every day, but some days the memories are further removed. I guess that's the brain's way of keeping sane. The craziness of everyday life prevents me from falling to pieces at the memory of losing her, and yet on other days, the grief washes over me so fiercely it takes my breath away. Like a sucker punch to the gut.

It's strange to think what might have been, who that beautiful little baby girl might have become, but it's also strange to think of what HAS become, because of losing her. For example, if Mya had not passed away, I would not have given birth to Ty, my youngest child, who brings us more joy than I can even explain, with his wild hair, deep pit-like dimples, huge grin, and soulful eyes. It's a weird sort of paradox... I wouldn't give Ty up for anything, yet I would give anything to have Mya back. I often wonder where our lives would be had she not passed. I wonder if I would have taken more for granted.

I long for the closeness that she and Stella would have shared, yet somehow, they DO still share a piece of it. Stella talks to her sister daily, as plainly as if she were standing next to her, she wonders aloud if Mya can see the 4th of July fireworks better than us, because she lives up in the sky. She asks God to please take good care of her sister, and she tears up with sadness at photos of her sister. She has an emptiness in her little heart that she feels, but can't put into words. When I look at Stella, I know I'm so very lucky to have her, and her special, beautiful, sensitive little heart. She provides a constant reminder of her sister, and at the same time, she is constantly healing the wound that was left. I love to remember my baby, even if it hurts to do it. Sometimes I NEED the memories that leave me sobbing in a pile on the floor, and sometimes I NEED the memories that bring tearful smiles, or all out laughter, even the ones that bring regret, and guilt. It brings her to life, and that's so beautiful.

Happy Happy Birthday!

2010-06-05T14:37:00.000-07:00

The heat is on here in Phoenix. A "record-breaking" high this weekend, 110 degrees in JUNE does NOT bode well for the rest of my summer. Ugh. I shudder to think what August will bring. Thankfully we were lucky enough to escape the heat last weekend, and spend a few days in California, frugally, at that, thanks to my friend's offering up their beautiful guest house in Malibu.

Having grown up near the Great Lakes in West Michigan, the water is just in my bones, so living in the desert can prove quite challenging at times, and definitely induce bouts of serious homesickness. That being said, it was fanTAStic to see the Pacific, smell the fresh, salty air, and feel the cool breeze on my skin. The best part of the trip was introducing little Stella Mariel (whose name, literally translated means "star of the sea") to the Pacific Ocean for the first time, and on her birthday weekend nonetheless!!

No trip near LA would be complete without a visit to American Girl Place, which I SOMEHOW managed to keep secret for weeks! Stella, daddy, and myself had tea on the balcony, overlooking the Grove, and we were showered with oodles of fantastic little treats and precious trinkets, all of which were, of course, pink. It was such a perfectly magical trip, and when Stella learned that we were there to BUY her Felicity Merriman, she flipped! It was so precious! Felicity would not leave her side for the rest of the weekend. Overall the birthday weekend was a wonderful success. We returned home to Arizona for a special party with grandma, grandpa, aunt Cici, and the brothers. All was pink, lots was homemade, and the cake was fluffy and chocolate! Happy 6th birthday Stella-bella-boo!! And as always, happy birthday to your little angel sister Mya Sadie as well, we all love you both!

Barney??

2010-04-21T18:00:00.000-07:00

My youngest son Ty must be utterly clueless that the current year, is, in fact 2010, not 1992, because the wee little man requested a Barney themed 4th birthday party. Sigh, 6 kids, and I thought I had escaped Barney completely unscathed for more than a decade! Not so, not so. Somehow, somewhere along the way, on a rare day of "mommy is sick and lazy" PBS viewing, Ty was exposed. I thought it was an innocent exposure, and I tried to ward off the manifestation of this big, purple sickness with therapeutic viewings of Word World, Jane and the Dragon, and other occasional shows, to no avail. The kid is obsessed. By obsessed, I mean, the better part of every day and evening is spent listening to my precious little man chirp away "I love YOU, you love ME, wer uh HAP-py Fam-uh-LEE wif a GREAT big hug anna kiss frum me too YOOOOU, WONCH-uh say you LUV ME TO..."

I went to every flipping toy and party store in the West Valley, and came to the bitter conclusion that all dinosaurs are definitely extinct, even ones of the purple singing variety. Lucky for me, I'm Goodwill addict, and thankfully those who donate to Goodwill are as eager to part with any trace of him as I was to find any trace of him. Not only did I find a brand new plush interactive Barney toy, but I found it on HALF OFF Saturday, and got the silly thing (which worked, looked, and dare I say smelled brand new) for a whopping $1.99! Score! Next came the decor. Yeah, no luck there either, so my little sister and I went to Joann's and rounded up some awesome Barney colored fabric and sewed the cutest lil banner for a few dollars. A trip to Pop the Soda Shop in Scottsdale to grab some fun, glass, vintage-style purple Faygo grape soda and the party was a wonderful success! Now, my NEW CAMERA sadly did not make it in time for this great shindig, but thanks to Ty's enthusiasm, the banner still hangs over our dining table, and of course interactive Barney from Goodwill is here to stay, so I snapped a few pics after the fact!

A sweet, sad little Black Dog...

2010-03-11T07:33:00.000-08:00

A little Black Dog has wandered into our life and hearts this week. My mom found her wandering around our neighborhood about 5 days ago, and when I heard her describe this starving, dehydrated, sweet little runaway, my heart broke and I ran out the front door with a leash in hand. Some neighbors and I spotted her about a block away from the house, but she was too timid and scared to come to any of us. I finally just sat down in the grass at a park near our home, and quietly called to her. I finally got close enough to her, to get the leash on, and slowly walked her home. She is a little mixed breed girl, and appears to be a bit on the older side, but is ever so sweet and gentle. She was covered in mud, with a matted, filthy red collar, and no I.D. tags. We gave her some water and food, and just let her sleep quietly on a pile of towels in the laundry room for the first night.

The next day consisted of a bath, tick removal, and introducing her to our two rambunctious younger dogs, Bo and Lilly. We fed her puppy food to get some extra nutrients in her, let her drink more, and gave her lots of love. The third day was uneventful, and anyone had yet to reply the the barrage of craigslist postings, newspaper ads, and found dog reports that we put up every day. Husband and I knew we really can't afford to have another dog here for much longer, but I couldn't bare the thought of bringing such a sweet ole gal to the pound, especially considering we had just rescued our youngest dog, Bo, from the pound 6 months before, and had seen the overrun conditions. Then tragedy struck, last Friday night Black Dog (which we've deemed her in honor of Treasure Island), collapsed in our hallway, and began having convulsions. I thought the poor baby was dying, and just sat by her, petting her and talking gently. I realized she was having a grand mal seizure, and after about 10 minutes, seemed to recover. The next day she went about her business like nothing had happened, before collapsing and seizuring again on the kitchen floor at dinner time. We of course had called the vet, but they were full until the following week, and we just cannot afford the pet emergency room for a dog we do not even own.

I emailed a local rescue pleading for help, but got no reply, as I'm sure they are also overrun. I talked to the vet office again, and they said if she had another seizure, they would fit her in ASAP regardless of their schedule or our ability to pay. Thankfully there are still lots of kind souls out in the world. Well, our little Black Dog had a third seizure last night, so we are in to the vet today to find out if they can try meds, or if our sweet lil peanut has to be put down. It's bittersweet for all of us. On one hand, we are so thankful she could spend this time here with us, surrounded by human and furry friends that have smothered her in love and affection, and on the other hand, if she needs to be euthanized, we will all miss her little timid yet affectionate soul running about our house, begging us for treats, and pawing at our hands to pet her or scratch her ears. No matter what happens at the doctor today, we love her.

*Black Dog is still with us, and doing well for the time being. She has either Epilepsy, or Valley Fever, and is being treated for both with meds, and just enjoying her life!*

A Pirate Walk

2010-03-04T07:54:00.000-08:00

We are a one vehicle household. I do not complain, my husband needs to leave at 5am to get to work on time, and that leaves the boys and I to walk to school in the mornings. I actually feel blessed that we live so close to the school (a 15-20 minute walk on most days), and I feel good about reducing our carbon footprint a little. The only time we run into trouble, is when the boys just don't feel like getting out of bed in the morning. There's much less margin for error in our timeline when we have a 20 minute walk with 2 sleepy-headed 2nd graders looming over us. I have tried coaxing, coercing, bribing, and even making up my own ridiculous, supposedly motivating songs to get them moving (the songs usually result in a brief giggle, followed by a very annoyed "please stop singing and rhyming!!"). 3 tardies later, and I was getting a little worried about having to walk them. Nothing seemed to work, they go to bed early enough, so this had much less to do with actual tiredness, as it did just simply finding the willpower to roll out of a cozy, warm, quilt and pillow filled bed.

Hmmm, then one morning an idea came to me. We have been reading Treasure Island before bed every night to the kids, and they are positively enthralled with the world of Jim Hawkins and Long John Silver. A Pirate Walk!! Everyone morning, we set out to explore a new stretch of Treasure Island, with a mission at hand... We have explored The Old Pirate Graveyard looking for clues to Flint's treasure (the Goodyear historic cemetery), we have hiked across Spyglass Hill (A rocky wash off the side of the road), and precariously walked a rickety rope bridge to Skeleton Isle (the crosswalk on a busy street). Our mornings are filled with lots of growls, aye-ayes, and "pirate code". We run, skip, climb, laugh, and walk our way to school, and the boys can't wait to step out the front door! We usually arrive to school 10 minutes early, and as we approach the crossing guard and I hug them and send them off, Max dutifully reminds me to "be a normal mom now and stop talking like a pirate...until tomorrow morning..."

The solidarity and logic of a 7 year old...

2010-03-03T07:25:00.000-08:00

As my two boys and I crossed the busy street on our way to school, Max says matter of factly to me "I know why we all hold hands whenever we cross the street... if we get hit by a car, we all die together". Brilliance.

A normal crisis...

2010-03-01T14:26:00.000-08:00

Have you ever noticed that when you are impoverished, every little molehill turns into a mountain?? Murphy's Law fiercely rings true, and some seemingly normal mishap, such as locking your keys in your car, becomes a wire-hanger-bending, arm-contorting, car-finish-ruining, cursing-and-yelling disaster. Why? Because when you are skint, you cannot afford the luxury of a locksmith. And it's also likely, you do not even have auto insurance in the first place, or if you do, it's definitely of the frivolous-no-roadside-assistance nature. So, since my husband has secured a regular job, I am very pleased to report I experienced the joys of a normal crisis.

My little daughter Stella and I were driving to a Matilda Jane trunk show last week, more for fun than for spending money, but nevertheless, the drive was to Mesa. From where I live in the West Valley of Phoenix, this is about an hour's drive one way. 95% of this drive is on the highway with speeds between 65-75 mph. We do not have a spare tire. I was in heels and a skirt. Getting the picture here? We had a little fun at the trunk show, hopped in our beat down minivan to drive back to Phoenix, and as we sped off, I heard this awful clunking sound. When you drive cars as ragged as ours, chances are, you know the sound of a horribly blown tire all too well. I did not have a cell phone on me, why you ask... well silly, we can't afford them anymore, so service was shut off a few months back. I spotted a Shell Gas Station up ahead, and drove ever so slowly to the air pump, to survey the damage. I ran around to the rear tire, and that familiar panic started to well up inside of me, upon seeing a gaping hole blown in the tire, and realizing that this was a complicated situation. The Shell attendant, a very happy and jolly guy, ran out to give me assistance (note to self, if you don't have a spare tire or cell phone, DO wear a short dress with heels). He filled the tire up, taped the hole with duct tape, and sent me up the road to a Discount Tire store. As I carefully yet efficiently drove to the tire place, the panic that had set in began to fade, when I realized several key factors...

1. I just blew a tire practically IN FRONT of a Discount Tire Store.

2. There was a Mc Donalds with wi-fi across the street, and my daughter was ravaged and starving.

3. I HAD REAL ACTUAL MONEY BOTH IN MY PURSE AND IN OUR BANK ACCOUNT.

4. The tire could have blown on the highway, not on a low-traffic surface street with a 35mph speed limit.

Oh my gosh, this is how normal people have a crisis!!!! This thought thrilled me down to my very core. Normal people can AFFORD to pay for a new tire!! I waltzed into that tire store, bought a new tire, walked across the street with Stella, and enjoyed a Big Mac, and she a Happy Meal, while we waited about 45 minutes for our new tire, and drove off into the sunset, happy as a clam!! I can only dream of the day when I have a flat with a spare tire, a cell phone, and roadside assistance... and yes my friends, that day will come!!

Morning, will all the trappings...

2010-02-23T08:24:00.000-08:00

Morning with all the trappings includes waking up, cozy in your bed, to a house that is a balmy 70 degrees. It involves washing your face with water that has no need of boiling in a pot, and arrives warm and convenient directly from your faucet. Morning with all the trappings involves bubble baths filled with pink, fluffy bubbles for little girls. So fluffy and warm in fact, that little girls proclaim it "WONderful!!". Wonderful indeed. Morning with all the trappings includes a brisk walk to school with a favorite biscuit in hand, and a stack of buttery pancakes for the little ones that are later to wake. Morning with all the trappings is nice.

We're in Hot Water...

2010-02-22T10:40:00.000-08:00

Quite literally in fact. After 9 months of NOT being able to afford our gas service, we have done it!! I am so pleased to say that with the spoils from the well-paying job my husband secured through the National Guard, we have been privileged enough to finally afford one of America's most underrated necessities...hot water.

Let me take you all back over the course of the past 9 months. Hours were cut at my husband's serving job, at an up and coming restaurant in Scottsdale that turned out to be not so up and coming. Bills mounted up, after paying for our move across the country, from Michigan to Arizona, suffering the loss of a security deposit, as well as the scorching of most of our belongings in an electrical fire at our rental, and the subsequent leasing of a newer, more costly home, it all became too much to afford, and the gas was turned off, as tends to happen when you are 3 months behind. At first, in the midst of the scorching Arizona summer, where actual cold water is nothing more than a lovely, elusive dream, the loss of our gas was quite endurable. The showers were luke warm on the worst of days, and quite comfy the majority of the time. As the days cooled off, and the nights got chilly, thick pajamas and boiling water became a staple, and was as second nature to me as to Ma Ingalls. Along with the weekly bath rotation (we were quite possibly the "smelly family" during this stretch of the ordeal) came hours of boiling pots of water to do dishes, and bathe our entire, huge clan of a family. It never really dipped below 65 degrees in the house, and aside from one third degree burn incident that resulted from my spilling a pot of boiling water on my own thigh, we weathered this bit of the storm quite well.

As the weeks went along, I even allowed myself to feel some sense of pride at our "sticking to the The Man" with living without gas service for so long. Eventually, though, with the first big paycheck my husband received, I became less concerned with "sticking it to The Man", and more concerned with not stinking like a man. So, the call was made to pay the bill, albeit $198, to reinstate our gas service, and I crack deranged jokes with the gas company rep on the other end of the phone about how in the world we managed to go SO LONG without gas service. She even praised our tenacity, and said because we "stuck out for more than 8 months" we saved ourselves from having to pay a $250 deposit to start up service again. It would be a few days, we were told, before a tech could come out to our home and turn it on, but the matter was settled. I made sure to get good and sweaty this weekend, cleaning carpets, doing laundry, moving furniture, etc, before the sweet sound of a service truck engine was humming in our driveway. I led the tech into our garage, and within minutes, the air was filled with the warm, mild breeze of the furnace, and the water was slowly but surely heating away in the tank. Within and hour, I was standing naked, dirty, and ecstatic in my shower, with the spoils of victory streaming over my grubby limbs. I have never scrubbed, polished, soaped, conditioned, and lathered myself quite so thoroughly and joyfully as what I did this morning. My 8 year old son ran to the bathroom door and shouted out "Is it REALLY hot mom, really?!?!". When I told him yes, he exclaimed as excitedly as I'd told him we were going to Disney World that "I'll be next".