a memorial day.

Sometimes my heart catches a little when I realize that they might not remember any of this. But it happened. And this morning, I want her to know that her daddy played guitar over and over and over while they danced and lined up cars.

Sometimes I complain because we are self employed. Budgets and benefits and planning don't look the same for us. Sometimes I feel a tiny bit sorry for myself when friends describe paternity leave.

Other days, I notice how he doesn't have to rush out of the house each morning, but lingers over coffee and another story and another song. We get to live a life full of provision. And I wouldn't change a thing.

six impossible things before breakfast...run an actual race v. 3

Who runs a 10K just to get free childcare?

This girl does. I wanted to push myself. I wanted to see what happened when I attempted something that I shouldn't be able to do.

This time, my face was not plastered with a ridiculous smile. This time, I stared down hills. There was no one cheering from the sidelines, just fields, trees and (thankfully) the One who made it all, reminding me of his promises. He is faithful.

endorsement

Not long ago, I posted a recipe for a certain delicious raw pudding.
Claire would like you to know that it is delicious and thankfully, tastes nothing like guacamole.

12. teach claire to write her name.

This is one that I forgot to document. She's been writing her name for a while now (also: she writes a huge A on anything for Auntie Mel and can write Oma).
As I loaded this, Everett did his very best big sister impersonation. Tears and theatrics because I wouldn't let him touch the computer. Please tell me he's not outgrowing the robot stage.

if you take an everett to the grocery store.

You might want to bring him a snack. If you don't, he'll find one himself.Avocados will remind him of Mexican food. He'll try to make a little mouth salsa.
The salsa will make him thirsty, so he'll ask for a drink of water. You won't want to share. He's a known backwasher.
The water will energize him so, he'll need to go for a bike ride. You'll consider making the helmet part of his everyday attire.
The bike ride will exhaust him, so he'll need to have a smoothie. Chances are the smoothie will give him a brain freeze. And if the smoothie gives him a brain freeze, he'll want you to take him to the grocery store for another snack.

7. Run in an actual race.....twice

Not because it was on the list. But because I can.
Is it weird that my feet aren't touching the ground? And yes, I ran the whole darn thing with that ridiculous smile on my face. Because I can.
Though the prize goes to Auntie Mel for completing her first race. And also to Hollie for completing her first postpartum run. Not bad, ladies.

while we wait for the sun.

I know this is May, but the weather here has been horrible. When it's drizzly outside, I hide out in the kitchen. Here's what we've been up to:
Rhubarb Oatmeal. The boys in the house liked this.
Granola Bars. Everyone liked these. Of course.
Homemade Crackers. Ugly, yet tasty. Everett thinks they are cookies.

And everyone's favorite fave:

RAW CHOCONANA PUDDING from Mothering Magazine

1 avocado

1/2 ripe banana

1/4 cup cocoa powder (use dark and organic)

1/4 cup honey

1 T coconut oil

1 t vanilla

Blend til smooth in the food processor. Chill or eat immediately, your call.

guitar hero

I may have mentioned Everett's tiny obsession with the Dada. He is a big fan of Nate. Imagine that you are a little boy. Imagine that there is a giant version of you. Your giant puts you in a packpack and carries you to cool places. The giant is also known bring home cars that look like toys. What's not to love?
Like all people in love, he will work the Dada into conversations. This could be a problem since the Mister doesn't really speak. However, he gets his point across. Whenever we meet a new person, he grabs an arm and says/signs, "Dada Doo Doo" Translation: "My Dada plays the guitar."

this girl.

She's started asking if she can borrow specific pairs of shoes when she gets older.

She wants to start dance lessons. When I told her we could start after soccer ends, she said, "I want to do dance all the times." When I told her we would try it and see if she likes it she said, "I'm going to LOVE it, Mama."
Of course you are, girlie girl.

This girl can cry for hours over a paper cut and obsess about how much it's going to hurt later to get the paper cut wet in the bath. Meanwhile, her brother* can pretty much lose a limb without breaking a sweat.

*For those who are curious, Mister Baby's hole in the head was a result of a face-plant on a steep set of stairs at the "horsey park." And yeah, I know, I should have been holding his hand.

this boy.

Two days ago he got another war wound. This time, a hole in his head. In twenty months, we've had seizures, bloody scars and multiple head wounds. After each injury, he runs to me, signs "hurt," demands a kiss (even if the wound is covered in blood or peanut butter), signs thank you and is off and running. This boy is going to give me a heart attack.

18...19...20?

Dear Everett,
Last week another mom asked me how old you were. I told her 18 months. Then she asked me when what day you were born in December. Apparently, you are 20 months old. You are also the only 20 month old I know who knows how to operate a jack.I had no idea how much I would love having a boy. I love watching you love your Dada. He is your favorite person, as it should be. You still are a man of few words. Full of signs. The first thing you do each morning is request a song on the guitar from dad, you ask using your custom "guitar" sign and by saying, "Dada. Doo Doo." And then he plays.
You still let me dress you like a tiny accountant. And you still are a robot. Just a busier, crazier, more fearless robot. I love you, Mister.
Love,
Mama