Wordless Wednesday -- S'mores

3-Year Tomatoes

We have our first tomatoes! It only took us three years.

We're fortunate to have a little backyard at the house we rent: a 6 x 10 patch of grass , a grape-covered pergola, and some room leftover for a garden.

Tyler has raised some delicious lettuce, garlic, herbs, peas, etc. I can't take much credit for our produce. My contribution to the garden is sporadic watering. Water stress is great for making good wine grapes, but doesn't usually improve strawberries and peppers.

All that being said, we have struggled with tomatoes. California is renown for delicious tomatoes, but they have eluded us. The main problem is the lack of all-day sunshine in our backyard -- great for people, not so great for tomatoes.

This year Tyler found the perfect spot for tomatoes and we have so enjoyed their sweet, flavorful yumminess.

Which "Princess Bride" Parent?

As I watched The Princess Bride this week with my friend's eight-year-old daughter, I had the uncomfortable realization that my parenting has recently sounded a lot like Vizzini. I don't demean and belittle like Vizzini, or threaten to "find myself a new giant" -- it is more a similarity in tone.

You may remember the scene when the exasperated Vizzini tells Andre the giant's character to finish off the man in black: "The minute his HEAD is in view...HIT IT WITH THE ROCK!" Now transpose the scene to my kitchen: "Take the TOWEL off the refrigerator...AND CLEAN UP THE MILK!"

Before I had children, I always envisioned I would be more of Wesley-type parent -- dashing, adventurous and calm under pressure. I still cling desperately to the notion that if my kids were to lament that we will never survive in the fire swamp I would wrap my arm around them and say, "We have already succeeded. I mean, what are the three terrors of the fire-swamp? One, the flame spurt - no problem - there's a popping sound preceding each. We can avoid that. Two, the lightning sand which you were clever enough to discover what that looks like, so in the future we can avoid that too."

Recently, I have been working with both boys, particularly Moose, on using an appropriate tone of voice. As I correct him for sounding rude and disrespectful I realize that my tone with him has not exactly been the model of love and respect.

My friend, Michelle, has always said she tries to be very careful with the tone she uses when she says her children’s names. She said she was convicted one day that if someone yelled her name with the same tone she was using when she called her children she would be crushed.

I was reflecting on all this harshness this morning during church and was so thankful for the kind of parent God is to us. He may be firm and unwaveringly truthful, but He is always compassionate and loving in His dealings with me.

I pray that our Perfect Parent would make us like Himself, instead of the pestering, nagging, never-satisfied Vizzini.

For A Chuckle

Just a little joke my parents sent me:


Two young boys walked into a pharmacy one day, picked out a box of tampons and proceeded to the checkout counter.
The man at the counter asked the older boy, 'Son, how old are you?' Eight,' the boy replied.
The man continued, 'Do you know what these are used for?'
The boy replied, 'Not exactly, but they aren't for me. They're for him. He's my brother. He's four. We saw on TV that if you use these you would be able to swim and ride a bike. Right now, he can't do either one.

A Cookbook for Moms

I was thinking this week that I could really use a cookbook designed especially for moms or, in deference to my husband who is a very good cook, a cookbook for parents. I'm sure you're thinking that the last thing we need is another cookbook, surely every possible cuisine had been covered from every angle. (I've even seen a cookbook that is devoted to making perfect peanut butter sandwiches.)

Well, friends, I'm here to tell you that my recipe needs have not yet been met. What I take issue with in all my cookbooks is the preparation times. When the recipe tells me that it will take 1 1/2 hours to make their divine Eggplant Parmesan what this helpful information fails to take into account is the myriad of interruptions involved in cooking an average family's nightly dinner.

If you factor in the time it takes to tie a cape on one brother, turn around and tie a cape one the other brother (who wouldn't want in on that), investigate a ruckus, toss in a few admonishments to be kind and fun, try to remember what step of recipe you are on, investigate another ruckus, sort out the correction and discipline as needed, and find your place in the recipe again, well, you can see that that is easily 30 minutes more than allotted by the cookbook.

Then there are the days, like the one last week, when I want to make a dish that requires my uninterrupted attention. I know you are sniggering at me already, but I'm 6-months pregnant and I had been craving lemon bars ever since my friend, Kristina, mentioned them a few days prior.

Eggs and sugar on the stove top requiring constant stirring until the mixture reaches 160 degrees could not be set aside for a mere ruckus, a howl, heck, the licking of flames at the baseboard in the living room. "I'm still stirring. I can't help you right now."

The lemon bars were delectable.

The Flying Zambinis

Moose and BiggiE love to fly -- airplanes, trampolines or being tossed by their Papa. With the Olympics occupying waaaay to much of my time these days, I can't help but think that the boys' love of being airborne could put some gold medals in their futures. Just please, God, not synchronized diving.

Latent Memories

A friend of ours just returned the bouncy seat and baby swing she had been borrowing and the boys were excited to try out their sister's "new" seats.

Both boys loved the bouncy seat and swing as infants and it was hilarious to watch their bodies relax and faces soften as they regressed into the soothing memories.

Sir Knights

Sir Moose and Sir BiggiE riding their trusting steeds on a valiant adventure. (I think they might need to talk to someone in the armory about getting helmets that fit.)

Shark Attack!

We celebrated Moose's 4th birthday this past weekend with good friends and a tasty shark cake.


The kids were especially thrilled with the shark's teeth. BiggiE was not too sure how much he trusted a shark, even one made of sugar and flour. He kept saying, "Shark going to bite me!" Tyler tried to reassure him and touched the fondant teeth to prove their safety. BiggiE watched unsure, "Ouch?", he queried.

Happy 4th Birthday, Moose!

Four years ago, today, Moose entered the world: 8-8-04 at 8:26 AM, weighing 8 lbs. 8 oz. We joked that if he ended up being interested in sports we already knew his number. My friend, Angie, is due today, which would be an especially cool birthday of 8-8-08.

We love you, Moose!


Baby Moose

One-year-old Moose

Two-year-old Moose with his new brother, BiggiE

Three-year-old Moose

Moose today


(I didn't do this intentionally, but I noticed as I looked at these pictures that Moose's smile is getting bigger and bigger with each passing year. Very funny.)

No Deperate Housewives

I am hopelessly behind in posting and not foresee catching up in the next 6 months, so here is a bit of fun from July. Tyler was with some college friends for a long weekend and some of the wives decided we'd weather a single parent weekend together. I was so blessed and encouraged by Ashley, Michelle and Kelli.

Click on the names above to read more details about our wonderful weekend together.