A Family that Works Together.....

A few weekends ago, we made the 2 hour drive to the Inlaw's house. They're country folk, and heat with wood. They're getting older, and had a ginormous stack of lumber that needed to be cut, split and stacked. "Could you guys come for a wood chopping party?" they asked. "Sure!" I said. I'd be happy to volunteer my husband's considerable muscles to the cause. It would be fun to sit and chat with the ladies. His family is famous for their feasts, there would be tons of food to snack on while we're sitting and gabbing. The morning of the 'party' I pulled on my new cute jeans and sweater, all ready for some socializing. Then my husband's sister pulled up in work clothes and a baseball cap. Shoot.

Here's a cute little collage of our day. Click on it to examine it closely. "Earlgirl", you say, "I see your baby working, your husband, and all kinds of other children, but I don't see you!"
Alas, 'tis true. I actually did do some hard labor for a few minutes, then I got sawdust in my eye and scratched it.
Don't get me wrong, I'm a hard worker. No, seriously. I AM! I'm just not a wood-splitter-hauler-stacker. Take a look at my husband's sister though (in red). She split logs for hours! With an actual AXE. I guess I'll have to be content with being the flaky prissy sister in law. I did look cute in my jeans and sweater though. Does that count for something?

Another Netflix Gem

Last Sunday, before bed I wanted to watch a movie as a family. Something uplifting and inspiring to close out the sabbath with. We've seen every church movie we have a thousand times, so I turned to trusty Netflix. I stumbled on this movie and thought it sounded perfect. It was amazing to watch, all curled up together. We had to pause it a couple of times to answer questions and discuss it. It was amazing. This is a documentary of a Christian missionary couple (it never says their denomination, and it really doesn't matter) in Mozambique. You'll be in awe. You'll be inspired. You'll feel empowered to do what she's doing on a smaller scale in your own life. This is an excellent Sunday experience.

I Love Thursdays!

Know why? Because every Thursday my girlfriends and I get together to hang out. To veg. To eat. Not just eat, but to engage in the almost ritualistic enjoyment of food. Our kids play, we talk, we cook, we consume. Most important of all, we relax. Here we are at my dining room table, feasting on Italian pastries and strangely enough, tortilla chips and pico de gallo. Eating pico is an art. First, you use a chip to scrape off some cream cheese, then you shovel fresh pico on the chip. Then you cram the entire chip indelicately in your mouth. Then you chew, and your eyes roll back in your head. It's lovely. When you've had enough of spicy, you take on the creamy desserts. Then you switch back. You repeat this, or something like it every Thursday until your jeans don't fit anymore. Then you get to go shopping! Is it Thursday yet?

Enough Already!

I like the quiet life. My idea of adventure is packing up dinner and eating it in the park. Speed, danger, adrenaline.....it's just not my thing. So I'm wondering, what's with all the mortal peril lately?
All I wanted to do was work out at the gym. I just got a bunch of hours worth of gym babysitting for free (I've always felt too cheap to pay for the gym AND babysitting)and I wanted to try it out. So Friday after school, I hauled my considerable horde to the health club with the motto "A Family Place to Be!". Everyone 6 and older could swim, and I'd been prepping my little leprechaun for the toy room. I had my music, my water, I was good to go! Except...isn't there always an 'except'? Except, this turned out to be the only afternoon of the week when the toy room was closed. So I was stuck. No workout. Everyone but Blade was swimming, so we bounced basketballs, practiced ninja moves on punching bags and sat. Finally, the hour was up and I called the boys out of the pool to change. The rest of us went to the lobby to sit some more. Everything was quiet and low key, the little guy was mellow and peaceful. I picked up a magazine and tried to find an article to read that wasn't about Britney Spears or Ellen's wedding. All of a sudden, a woman a few feet from me shouted "OH NO!" and started running past me. As soon as the words left her mouth, there was a terrible crash, and the sound of shattering glass. I jumped and ran too, and just around the corner in a little alcove lay my little guy, surrounded by shards and daggers of broken glass.
At this club, there's a little nook that's not visible unless you're directly in front of it. In the nook, there's a bar height glass table, and tall stools around it. My little guy loves to go over there and sit. He was doing just that, when something happened and he fell, pulling the stool and the table over on top of him. The thick glass top was in pieces. His hands were glittering with glass slivers. Miraculously, all he got was a tiny cut on his scalp, and a nick on one hand. He didn't even need a bandaid. When I saw he was okay, I was only aware of being deeply embarrassed that my kid had made such a disaster. We beat a hasty retreat. That night though, as I was laying in bed, it hit me how lucky he was. What really happened was the best case scenario. There were infinite ways he could have been maimed or killed. I stayed up a long time, picturing those in my head.
All I know is, I'm putting in a request for a few boring, ordinary weeks! ASAP!