For about a year now, I’ve set Monday aside. It’s my “day off” since we all know that Sunday -what should be a day off for Mom’s -really isn’t a day off at all. Between getting kids dressed, clothes pressed, diapers messed… it’s just tiring. If we’re lucky, we get a nap and we need it. After getting Sunday dinner on the table then off the table, we’re worn out.

So I staked claim to Monday. I don’t plan anything if I can help it.
And I don’t feel guilty for watching a movie in the middle of the day.
Or heading outside instead of fixing dinner:

While Trenton slept, the girl and I ventured outside. I sat down under a tree, leaned my back against it, held her on my lap, and asked her to close her eyes.
“What do you hear?” I asked.
“Birds. A train…” she said.
“I hear the wind making the leaves move.” I said. We opened our eyes and went hunting for leaves. I taught her about the “lines” in the leaves and how they use those lines to get their food and water from the tree to grow bigger. We found leaves with bug-eaten holes in them. We found dead leaves. We found thin leaves, thick leaves, crunchy leaves, baby leaves…
And smack dab in the middle of The Great Leaf Hunt, we found a giant dead moth.

TREASURE!
We flipped it over and counted it’s legs and the ribbing on it’s body. We found it’s eyes and talked about its wings.
Lacy wanted to keep it, so she emptied her purse.

And put it in:

Trenton woke up, heard us outside and joined us for Leaf Hunting and Dead Moth Marveling.

Then the worst happened: the dead moth’s brittle wing broke.

And all at once, The Dead Moth wasn’t interesting anymore. I was asked to babysit while the kids went back to hunting leaves.

Trent hunted with his Black and Decker Jr. Saws.

And I laid down. A few seconds after I got comfortable, Lacy declared, “MOM! You’re having a baby!”
“What?” I said.
“I hafta cut it out with a stick!”

The stick, it turned out, WAS the baby. And her name was Perla Girl.
Soon after Perla Girl made her entrance into the world, Trenton delivered Perla Boy… also a stick.
As I held my two new babies next to me, my kids fixed me up. As it turned out, I had a broken leg, broken arm, broken toe AND a broken ear. No worries, though. It wasn’t anything that couldn’t be fixed by a couple of glow sticks and a toy hammer.

Meet the babies and the leaf I got for being “such a good girl” during all of my surgeries:

Of course, no one should have a baby without a BABY SHOWER, and Lacy made sure I got one. She even grabbed my camera.
“We hafta take a picture of you opening your present!” She said.

It was a sock full of rocks which turned out to be JUST what the babies needed:

(excuse the blurry picture, it was taken while my darling boy shook me.)
And just then, like magic, the neighbors drove by with their cow:

“HI, SISTER DEETS!” The kids yelled from inside the truck.
“I’M GOING TO BE A MONSTER FOR HALLOWEEN!” Lacy yelled back.

Yesterday, one of those same neighbors (a ten-year old boy who takes piano lessons from me) helped Lacy bug hunt for 30 minutes. The spoils were incredible and included TWO dragon flies.
Did you know my sweet, delicate girl can catch flies with her bare hands? She snatches them up by the wing.

Ahhhh, Mondays. Everyone needs a “day off” at least once a week.

Yesterday the kids and I were putting of doing chores googling Halloween costumes.  After we looked through innumerable princess and super hero costumes, the kids lost interest but I didn’t!  I googled the snot out of couples, my head positively spinning with costume ideas.

Here’s what I came up with… which do you like best?  I’ll tell you at the end which one my husband decided we should go with.
Cleopatra and Marc Antony:

Seeing as how I’ve never seen “Cleopatra” I’m not actually sure if that is Marc Antony with her… but I imagine the costuming would be the same.

Boonie and Clyde:

Methinks we’re not skinny enough.

JKF and Jackie:

Every time I look at her hair, I think of John Travolta dressed as a woman saying, “I like to believe her hair is naturally stiff.”

PHANTOM!… and that girl he sings with.

Sandy and Danny from “Grease.”

I would, of course, go with her “lousy with virginity” look and NOT her skin-tight black skin suit look. Can you imagine what I’d look like in that? EW! No! Stop thinking about it.

Scarlett and Rhett:

I just want an excuse to make that dress, in all honesty.

American Gothic. This was my first choice.

I actually wanted to get engagement pictures done like this, but my husband is, you know, normal and all that.

At the end of the day, I presented each of these ideas to my husband. And do you know which one he picked?

Johnny and June; unlisted.

And so it goes with our relationship. I spend too much time making things harder than they need to be and my husband comes along and BLAM-O! Fixes everything with the best possible answer that I would have never thought of.
Also: my husband will make a smashing Johnny Cash.
We’re going to start rehearsing “Jackson.” Look out.
AlsoAlso: we’re officially on the prowl for a cheap guitar on account of we don’t want to use our nice ones to prance around town in. If you hear of one, let us know.

A few months ago, I wrote about some things I was doing to be more healthy. I wanted to update you -let you know how things have been going.

I read in a magazine somewhere (and we all know magazines DON’T lie) that your body needs 12 hours to completely sort through all the food you’ve fed it throughout the day. For example: if you eat dinner at 7, you don’t eat breakfast until 7. I thought, ‘Hey -I can do that. That’s easy enough.’ So I did, and I made sure to let myself have the reigns. If I want a brownie at midnight (which only happened on my birthday) then I just don’t eat breakfast until noon.

That said: I’ve always had blood sugar issues. I can barely fast for ONE meal on Fast Sunday, and at the end of the fast, I’m a mess. My husband always gently guides me out of the church with one hand on the small of my back. He speaks slowly and calmly… “Let’s get you home…” and I answer in a series of groans, “uh… yu…”
Once home (and after the fast is broken), I eat and then I lie down for about 45 minutes. By then, I’ve returned to normal and I hop up to make a brilliant Sunday dinner.

Since I’ve been doing this 12 hour thing, I haven’t had hardly any problems! I don’t believe it’s due entirely to my 12 hour thingy, but I do believe it is a HUGE contributing factor. I’ve been eating less sweets than I normally do (not everyday, but most days. So that’s something) and that has helped tremendously as well.

I signed up to get daily health secrets emailed to me from the Good Doc that spoke to us at “A New You.” A few weeks ago, I read this on Dr. Stan’s website:

I feel strongly that fasting is healing for most people. When we eat, we place our body in a state of stress, which is why we should not eat late at night. Then our repair hormones are suppressed by the stress imposed on the body late at night.

When we are fasting, the energy of the body can be put to the task of healing, rather than to the task of digestion, absorption and utilization of food. When we are ill and not hungry, we should not eat unless we feel the desire to do so. When the body is ready for food after an illness, it will send a message to the brain that it is hungry.

In the early 1900s and late 1800s, fasting for days, or even weeks, was not uncommon; and those who did so recovered more quickly than those who ‘ate through their illness.’

It more fully affirmed to me that what I was doing was right. Had you ever thought about eating as putting stress on your body? I certainly hadn’t! NOW I do. Every time I reach for a piece of toast/cracker/what-have-you out of boredom, I retract my hand and remember that putting stress on my body is a bad, bad thing (as concerns eating).

While at the retreat, Dr. Stan also mentioned that it’s necessary to take a supplement of vitamins and minerals on account of it being pretty impossible -even if you eat organic -to get all of the vitamins straight from the source. He marked soil depletion and early harvesting for shipments as causes. Makes sense. I’ve been taking a supplement that they gave us at the retreat AND I’ve been religiously taking:

Not for any one cause, really. But this little supplement has done nothing bad for me. I’ve been taking it since March, and for the last month I have noticed a difference in my energy. It took a few months, but it was well worth the wait. Also: my lactose intolerance has disappeared entirely.
And my nails are thick like they used to be when I was in high school. I only mention it because the condition of your nails can speak volumes about what’s going on in your body.

Have I been doing yoga? walking? Well… not so much. I’m still working on that.
HOWEVER, last night I DID dream that my sister and I were chased my bears that were giant! THEN I dreamed that I was the host for a gigantic family reunion that looked less like family and more like one big high school reunion that included (but was not limited to) people I went to high school with and people my siblings and parents went to high school with. Incidentally, most of us are related. Yahoo for small towns.
Then my alarm went off.
Then I silenced it and accidentally fell back asleep and dreamed that I ran my buns off on an elliptical machine. When I woke up and realized the sensational burning pain I was feeling in my calves was imagined, I rolled out of bed and ate a hunk of cookie dough.
Fail.
Also, I broke my 12-hour rule this morning by eating COOKIE DOUGH at 8:30 instead of at 10. I usually don’t break that rule.
But, come on. I just out ran bears, hosted a huge party, AND worked out. Cookie dough was the best thing for me given the circumstances.

Here’s to making the rest of the day better -more healthy!
It can only go up from here!

Click HERE for Dr. Stan’s website.

Last month was absolutely crazy.  The time spent together as a family was few and far between.  Our budget went haywire, and what should have been spent on food was spent on other necessities (like gas).
It wasn’t like we were destitute. Oh, heavens, no.
With half of a cow in our freezer, it was impossible to be destitute. When we run short on our food budget and just”eat what we have” we spend a week eating steak and pot roast. Hardly a sacrifice.
But what about the other stuff? Milk, eggs, bread…

At the end of June, we went to a resort as a family. We spent our food budget on food for the weekend. It’s amazing how much more you have to spend on food to have it ready-made. As a result, we came home and had to eat what we had eaten at the resort.
We had bought 2 loaves of white sandwich bread… you know the kind. It’s flimsy and fake-tasting. I set in on the counter, fully aware of the busy week ahead of me.
We used half of the one loaf we had left.
Before leaving for Girl’s Camp, I looked at the loaf. I knew it would mold. It was monsoon season. We had a swamp cooler. It was the middle of summer. The thought crossed my mind to just toss the loaf.
But it was all we had…
So I left it alone. Anyway, I was stressed to the max -it was easier to just “deal with it later” (“later” being when it had exchanged it’s bottom half for mold).
It wasn’t until 2 weeks after I had put the bread on the counter that I picked it up again.
My husband was gone to training and the kids had requested peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. It was the only bread we had.
Granted, I could have made homemade bread. I could have. But I didn’t really have the time, and anyone who makes and eats homemade bread knows that -while delicious -it does NOT make good sandwiches.

I reached for the bread. The bread that had been sitting under the influence of my swamp cooler for 2 weeks and on the counter at the grocery story for WHO knows how long and had taken a 4-hour car ride from the 100-plus-degree resort to my humid home.
I carefully untwisted the twistie-tie and peeked in.

And it was fine.
Fresh, even.

It made me smile. No bread had ever lasted that long on my counter -EVER. I couldn’t believe what I saw, and I pulled every slice of bread apart and checked over and over -certain I was missing something. There just HAD to be mold somewhere.
But there wasn’t.  The bread lasted until we were paid again.

And do I know why? Yes, I do. If you pay tithing, you know too. You know what it’s like to have food just show up when you seem to have almost run out. You know what it’s like to find that check in the mail or that $20 in your pocket. You know what it’s like to open the bread bag to find it still fresh and feel what feels like a warm hug from the inside.
You know what it’s like to feel you’re taken care of… to know He’s aware… to know He knows.
He knows when you’re hurting.
He knows when you’re happy.
He knows when you’re hungry.
He knows when you’re trying.
He knows when you’re making ends meet.
He knows.
And He loves enough to bind your heart, make up the difference, even freshen your bread… because YOU matter.

Look around.
You’ll find your own miracles.

This year for my birthday, I wanted to go out to eat with my family. My husband suggested we wait until the weekend and we’d all go into the city to make a day of it. That sounded GREAT to me because my sister (bless her heart) introduced me to the best Greek restaurant in Flagstaff (possibly the world), and I was all in favor to eat there with my family.
As we were seated, Lacy promptly pulled her napkin out and tucked it in her shirt.
We all giggled at her, and embarrassed she said, “It’s what they do in the movies!” I pulled the camera out and she immediately pulled her napkin down.
“No!” I said, “I want a picture!” But she was embarrassed. Naturally, I made her Dad tuck his napkin in too so she wouldn’t feel so silly about it.

Such well-behaved and wonderful patrons!

And then there’s us:

And then there’s them:

And then there’s us:

And then there’s Lacy:

Isn’t there always Lacy?

After an amazing lunch, we headed downtown to the downstairs Aveda salon so I could buy some Glossing Straightener (the one on my wishlist!) and some super shades for $7.
And when I say “super” I mean “super huge.”

In 13 years, my kids will find these sunglasses in a bin and make fun of me.
Har, har… look at me. I’m a bug from 2010. Har, har…

They don’t make fun of my now though. In fact they want to BE me which is both flattering and downright darling:

Is there anything sweeter than how upside down his shades are?
Just for fun:

Speaking of my wish list… I also got to shop:

I came away with all of the supplies to make (what else?) MORE cake plates!
I think I may just have a problem.

After Goodwill, we rewarded the kids for their good behavior by letting them gawk at rats:

Who is luckier than our kids? I ask you!

At Sam’s Club, we ran into my Aunt Lil aka the kids’ most favoritest auntie in the whole wide world… and she offered to take them home with her!
As a result, Danny and I got 2 hours of alone time (one of which was spent driving, but still). He enjoyed having me at his side and never leaving it.

No matter what his mouth said… he enjoyed it.

And here’s a snap shot of the vintage purse I snagged at the clothing drop off. FREE goodies!
And the skirt was free.
Cha-ching!

Yesterday there was a knock at the door.  It was a woman, she was apologizing all over herself for her mistake, but I could barely hear what she was saying through…
Apparently after my meltdown and consequent Truth Speech about the way I feel concerning flowers, my husband called in the next day and ordered me a huge-o bouquet. And they forgot to deliver it.
Like I care!
I didn’t even know they were coming! To have them arrive at any time was pretty much amazing unto me!

Aren’t they beautiful? Isn’t my husband sweet?
Do I feel horribly selfish for finally admitting out loud that I prefer delivered flowers? YES! YES! YES!

Last night, I said to my husband “I need to explain something to you.”
And he said, “Ok.”
“I’m not big on flowers. If you don’t send them to me for Mother’s Day or Valentine’s Day or my birthday… I’m okay with that. It doesn’t make much difference to me. But when you do decide to get them for me -which I most sincerely hope you do on some random Thursday where you just happened to think of me -get the ordered kind. I don’t care if it’s one carnation. I don’t care if it’s one rose. I don’t care what it is! And you know something else I would love JUST as much? Hand-picked wildflowers -even if it’s just alfalfa sprigs.”

I sincerely hope he doesn’t hate me.  I know he doesn’t.  But still…
It’s bad enough he married a woman that has the audacity to tell him the truth about her feelings concerning flowers.

In other news, I came to the stark realization last night that my life will never complete if I don’t learn Italian and then get box seat at an Italian Opera.
Okay, that might not seem stark to you.
But when you live a life as action-packed as mine… stark is an understatement.

I especially like how it teaches us to say -in Italian -that we don’t speak Italian. Handy!
If you’re not keen on opera, try a modern version composed by Jeremy Sams and featured in the 1995 version of Persuasion.

You can’t object to it -you absolutely can not.
You’re allowed to object to Pavarotti, I guess:

But OH how I don’t!
And when I die, I will meet him on the other side and say -in perfect Italian …

“I need help.”