Tuesday, January 29, 2013

happiest with him.

It has been a rough couple of months, I'm not going to lie. While we are happy about our pending move and Tyler's new position with his company, I told myself that 2013 was going to have to be the year for me to learn to be comfortable with instability. We will be living out of boxes for a while, traveling back and forth, and simultaneously attempting some semblance of routine for our girls until we can get really settled.

Status: we are still currently house hunting and hoping/praying/crossing our fingers that the house we have an offer on will actually go through (short sale - arg.). In the meantime, Tyler has been working Monday through Friday in Southern Cal since November. Flies out Monday mornings, returns late Friday nights. The girls and I moved up to my parents in the meantime and I SO appreciate and NEED the help! Single moms and mothers of the world with traveling husbands,etc: I salute you. It is a gnarly exhausting uphill struggle.

But more than the help a husband provides, it is his regular companionship that I (we) are missing most. Saturday and Sunday are HANDS DOWN the BEST days of our week (as if they weren't already pretty great anyways: who doesn't like those days?). He is home. Glory be! our favorite guy in the world is home! Following a pretty saWEET date night after picking him up from the airport last Friday, we took the girls out first thing Saturday morning to celebrate with pancakes. We spent the rest of the weekend enjoying our time together.

uncle Cub was in town and came for the parTAY.

And then we said our usual sad goodbyes (boo) till next weekend and he hopped on that darn plane again. The next day I came across this video and was teary-eyed for the rest of the day. Made me think so much of him. (even the part about the cell phone...only he doesn't hear silence. He gets an earful of gibberish from Ellie Jane)

Tyler Haack, you are wonderful.
Thank you for being the best man and father this cheer squad could ask for.

Till Friday night, goodnight and i love you SO.


Monday, January 28, 2013

Meal Planning Mondays: back with my BEST recipe ever.


Have you missed Meal Planning Mondays?!

Well, I am ready to get back in the saddle. With a few changes. First, I promise recipes that will not require nearly the amount of work and turnaround time as the one posted above ( that is one hellava recipe but repeatability not, I caution!: NOT guaranteed:)).  

I will  post our meals as I cook, create, test, and approve them. However, it is hard to regularly photograph multiple decent looking meals every week. And I am NO CHEF! I am a mere RECIPE SHARER. So, I've decided that every Monday I will post, at minimum, links to my meal plan for the week. I'll be sure to also post full recipes and photos of whatever I've managed to cook that week. So hopefully, every Monday you can stop by and know that there will be at least four recipes worth linking up and trying.
Happy Meal Planning!


This week's line-up (click titles for links):

(plug: vegan night! don't tell your fam - they won't notice)

Thursday, January 24, 2013

And now, a word.

about seven year-olds.

Notice I didn't title this post "About Seven Year-olds" because let's be real, who would ever read it? Certainly not I. 

Snoozefest, I would think. Truth. 
Pre-motherhood, when one conjures up a lively image of their offspring, I think it safe to say it is generally not the 7-12 year old range one fantasizes about. Or, come to think of it: the 13 through....hmmm, like 22 ages either?
 Instead we like to think of our little babies. Our chubby infants. Our squishy toddlers, our little little people. Like extensions of a good handbag, animated and adorable accessories tightly bound within our sphere of control. And even when they are behaving out of that sphere of control, well heck: at least they are just so darn itty bitty and CAH-ute. Right? Exactly.

But legitimate, growing, gangly Children? BIG kids? The kind that talk all of the time and make lame jokes and speak clearly but are in no position to pose as even mildly intellectually stimulating, always telling way too long stories and begging you to take them to see cinematic gems like Air Bud 3?


Pre-motherhood, I used to joke to friends that I planned on surviving through my childrens' older years by slowly rationing out the excessive adoration I would feel for them up to the age of 5. I figured it would have to be enough to last from 7-19 years, when I would start to really like them again.


Fast forward now.

I stand, brushing her hair. Weaving a bright teal blue colored Hello Kitty hair extension into her french braid. It's a fantastically tacky hair piece. And yet, I'm excited. Just wait till she sees how it flows in her golden waves, peeking in and out of the layers of separate color. We practice spelling words and discuss which friends she wants to play with at recess in the coming afternoon. She loads her toothbrush with the correct amount of toothpaste and begins rigorously brushing, smiling to show me how many bubbles she's created that foam over into the sink.Once rinsed, we re-wiggle the loose tooth she's anxiously waiting on. Almost. I reassure. Almost! Not too much longer.

She stands up and examines her hair in the mirror. I give her a smaller hand mirror to hold against the large wall mounted one for a thorough panoramic of all that Hello Kitty blue awesome going on everywhere. A wide, self satisfactory grin flashes across her face. A favorite smile.

She gently runs her hand over her hair, down the side of her cheek and looks squarely - confidently - in the mirror,

"I'm seven."

she remarks in just above a whisper. Even she cannot believe it.

"Yep, you sure are Lu-Bug. My big birthday girl. 
My grown up lady. B-E-A-U-T-I-F-U-L lady."

We load up the car. I wrestle the toddler, constantly remind and prod the 5 year-old to get her boots on, and buckle the baby tightly. 

You have your backpack, Lily?




Homework folder? 




Can you help your London get her shoe on please?


Later, I drop off the little bitties with my mother so I can deliver a special birthday lunch and cupcakes to her class. I arrive just before lunch to see her, all smiles upon my entrance. Her classmates gather round and begin asking her, "Hey Lily! Is that your Mom?!! Hey Lily?! Is that your Mom?!" These are big, legitimate children. She nods her head proudly and points, "Yep! That's my Mom!" 

We walk to the lunchroom hand in hand and she jumps up and down as I pull the Port of Sub sandwiches from my bag (her favorite). I sit with her, among her classmates. I hear awesomely way too long stories and incredibly lame jokes. I indulged in delivering a few laugh bombs myself to the captive audience, to which Lils responded with her newest signature "moTHER" eye roll and giggles.  I pass out the cupcakes, and the class waits patiently for the birthday girl to take the first bite before they can dig in themselves (a class tradition). 

After school, I pick up a gaggle of girls and we drive to Walgreens to load up on treats. We stuff our coat sleeves and hoods with twizzlers and sour patch kids and head to the theater for the latest 7 year-old inspired movie hit. I sit next to the big girl. She leans her head on my shoulder and I watch her eyes twinkle contentedly in the screenlight. 

That night, after tucking them into bed, I hear London begin her usual protests of sleep. She begins to complain, worried about the (completely animated G rated) movie we saw that afternoon that will now inevitably haunt her dweams (dreams). 

Lily chimed in with the following wise counsel:

london, i'm going to tell you something that mom told me when i was little.

bad dreams aren't real. they don't come to life. in your brain. they aren't alive.

like aliens, are aliens going to come to our earth? No. no they aren't. because they can't breathe here.

robots? robots are real. but nice.

zombies aren't real either.

just like on halloween, i was scared and crying.

oh! oh! like in my head! chopped up lady! chopped up lady!

not real! okay?

London responded, 

Lulee, can you pwease not say dat?

I closed their door, attempting to mask my laughter. 


It was at the end of this day that I briefly recounted my old assumptions.
 The realization dawned on me: 
I was so very wrong. 
{big shocker there.}

Thank you
thank you
thank you
for my big seven year-old.
she is bombtripledawg.com
{but then again, You already knew that}

scenes from the day

pizza time!

Sunday, January 20, 2013

The very last, I promise.

I am capital B behind in capital E every department in my capital L life.

We're just now emerging from a wonderful post holiday romp through FLU SEASON. I'm not even going to go there. Let's just be glad it's over and re-live the very last details of 2012 for posterity's sake?

vvvvery early,

Christmas Day was fantastic. 

It's such a relief when all the agonizing and sorting and wrapping and planning are finally done.

I think Tyler and I review "the lists" around 19 times in various ways in the weeks leading up.

What do we have for Lily?
K, now London?
Ellie Jane?

Equal number of items?
No, not necessarily.
Weighted scale?
 Items adjusted by price and measure of equal desirability.
Suitable to each individual personality?
Considerate of separate interests?
Check. Check.
Factored by age?

Eight month old Emerson does not need the amount of stuff that say, five year old London would require for us to pass the parental Christmas litmus test. You know, the test all siblings inevitably point to for the rest of time in therapy sessions demonstrating the obvious parental favoritism that robbed them of all self-esteem. 
does this cause me anxiety? no oh my gosh why would you think this is causing me anxiety why do i seem anxious oh my gosh why would i be anxious over something so silly i'm not anxious i might look and sound a little anxious but i am in no way anxious oh my gosh.

Something tells me, while skimming over the pictures....
these children will survive.


After the before-sunrise Santafest, 

it's over the river and through the woods


Poppa and Nonna's we go!

Nonna always has the most splendiforous (check it: Fancy Nancy) tree:

Uncle Alex and Miss Jocelyn did their usual and much appreciated spoiling.

I love Nonna's decorations too. A lovely spread.


and there we have it. A glorious end to 2012.

Dear 2013,

i think i'm finally ready for ya.

Wednesday, January 9, 2013

While I'm out....

I plan on updating this corner when I've completed uprooting my entire existence and am no longer staring down a 400 lb load of laundry...hoping, just hoping it will somehow magically disappear from my parents' sofa and end up properly distributed to the one closet our family of six is currently sharing. Holla! Cuz really, nothing says job promotion like moving in with your parents, can I get an AMEN?! 

dear escrow, please close soon.
 (but, not too soon. i kinda like this set-up for a bit)

In the mean-time, I have to share a gem with you:

art as quilts

Meet Art:

Meet inspired quilt:

behind such spectacularessness. 
(ok, not a real word. what is a cool fancy artsy word for this? i do not know. superamazedazeSHUTUP. that's what i said.)

First, i have to say i have ample amounts of appreciation and love for all the craftiness of crafty ladies out there. But every now and then one stumbles upon something that is much more than a craft. These quilts?! Art I tell you. Such a fan. And I am pretty picky about the art I prefer to display. It has to speak to me in some way (wow, that sounded artsy, now didn't it?).

 I am already dreaming of one of these quilts gracing my new home (when we actually find one we can afford in...ya know, RIDICULOUSLY EXPENSIVE SOUTHERN CALIFORNIA). 

You can comb through the artist's (Summer's!) pinterest board as well to see what art she has pegged for future quilts. I plan on scrolling through and ordering one!

Another fave: 

and of course, dang it all: sold!