some great things that everett has said.

first clock for disassembling.  just like the dada.

"What are we doing today, Mom?"  He asks.  I give him the list.

"I can't do that today, Mom.  I have 96 things to do today."

Also, "I want to have three kids, their names will be Tootsie, Bootsie and Auntie Mel.  Oh! and one more, his name will be Workerguy."

When he was mad: "I don't love you."

Me:  "Okay."

Him:  "I love you a little."

Today to Auntie Mel, "When Santa comes, I might have to go pee."

5 impossible things before breakfast.

Thankful for a new running jacket and and old running buddy to pull my tired hide out of bed before the sun rose.

Thankful for a race on the (distant) horizon to push us both.

rusty.

My personal blogging goal is always 11 post per month. It's my sweet spot. Not too much of me and not too little. Last month I posted just twice and I miss sharing our stories. Especially when this girl is looking like this:

Life is good. God is doing stuff. Let's talk about it.

a river runs through it.

Organizing magazines suggest sweeping your porch off before holiday entertaining. Maybe putting up a nice wreath. We went another route this year. We rented a jackhammer and invited my biggest brother in law over destroy our front porch. It was neat.

Our bedroom flooded on Wednesday.  Thursday we had 17 adults over for Thanksgiving dinner.  While the turkey smoked, Nate jackhammered.  This girl made her first pie.  And by the end of Black Friday, the water was diverted.

Grateful again for my handy husband.  For this old house.  For walls and carpet and messy front lawns.  For a life that doesn't look like a magazine.  

my mister, age 4.

Me: Stay little, Everett
Him: No. I'm going to have birthdays.

Him: it's going to get really smokey in this house, Mom. I've got a lot of welding to do.

overheard.

Everett:  What are you going to be for Halloween, Dad?
Nate:  A vomit janitor.

In case you were wondering, we're still sick.  Nate is the last man standing.

irony.

Saturday we took the kids to OMSI, where learned lots of interesting things about the human body.

Monday I found Ingrid had been sick sometime in the night and then went back to sleep. Awful. Today, her flu found me. Nate texted en route to dinner to tell me that they were heading home. Claire was sick in the truck.

The ladies are down.  Grossology indeed.

ru.

You won't hold hands.  The idea offends you.  You understand but don't say much.  Yet you are my best communicator at this age.  I've started giving you "crib time" for screaming.  If tell you that you're going to have crib time you shake your head "no" vigorously.  

I've never had an 18 month old without being in the early stages of pregnancy.  I like that you get to be a baby for a little while longer.  But I've done this before and even though you'll still snuggle in and let us hold you for a few minutes, it's not long and you're off and running.

embracing the camera.

Every year in August, I print and bind our blog into a blurb book.  It is cool to have all of my words and pictures in one place for the kids to someday look back through.  As we looked at the finished result, I realized that there was a serious lack of me in the pictures.  I was better at getting in front of the camera when it was just Claire and me.  I'm going to make steps to take more pictures of myself, so that the kids have a record of this tired woman who loves them like crazy.

I don't want to wait for the right hairstyle or weight to get into the picture.  And it could be years before the dark circles under my eyes disappear.  I love this picture because it looks so much like one I took with my big girl when she was this age.

And you, Ru.  You are changing before my eyes.  You don't speak much, but you'll say, "I ME!" when we ask your name.  And yesterday, you said "cheese, cheese, cheese, cheese." over and over.  In our mostly dairy-free house, you were thrilled to get a little cheddar.

bittersweet.

Ingrid lost her lovie and I'm feeling sad.  She has graciously agreed to stay a baby for a bit longer and is even stroking the back up bunny's ear against her nose.  I think she's humoring me.  She knows I'm not ready to let go yet. 

This week, I told a friend that unless Ingrid expressed verbally that she was ready to potty train, I wasn't going to start that madness.  She is my last baby, I'm in no hurry.  That very day she marched up to me and pulled at the front of her very wet  diaper with a look of disgust and attempted to rip the thing off.  She also added some grunts and noises for full effect.

Things are changing.  My boy is making leaps and bounds and is writing his name.  My big girl needs a bigger bike.  My baby is barely a baby any more.  I want to freeze them right where they are so I don't miss anything.  And yet.  They keep going.  And growing.  Two mornings a week, both of my big kids are at school and Ingrid and I look at each other like, "This is really weird.  What are we supposed to do now?"

In August, we surprised the big kids with a trip to Disneyland.  We left Ingrid at home, knowing that if we waited for her to be big enough that we might miss the magic for the other two.  I'm so glad we went.

“Life sneaks up on us every once in a while and gives us something we didn't ever know we wanted, and lights within us a love we didn't even know existed.”
― Shauna Niequist, Cold Tangerines: Celebrating the Extraordinary Nature of Everyday Life

bunny love.

We lost her bunny today.  And I am so so sad. The bunny that goes everywhere.  The bunny that she rubs against her nose for comfort.  The bunny that just this morning, she cuddled on my lap and rubbed against MY nose as a way of melting my heart and saying, "I love you."  This bunny:

I've never had a kid as attached to a lovie as this one.  We sent Nate and Grandpa all around town retracing my steps to try and find the bunny.  After an hour of attempting to get my easy girl to take a nap, I loaded the kids up and retraced my steps myself.  No bunny.

We have had a second bunny around the house for some time.  We've never needed it and she doesn't care for it.  The back up bunny is an exact replica of her bunny minus 18 months of dirt and sweat and love.  Big brother and Big sister were happy to attempt to dirty up the clean bunny so that Ingrid might accept it as a cuddle partner.

She was not fooled.  And this mama is not ready for her to give up her lovie yet.

project overshare.

The years are short,  but the days are long.  I want to remember this one.

5:15 AM my alarm goes off.  It is black outside.  BLACK.  My plan of sleeping in my running clothes is not enough to get me out of bed.  I don't even bother with snooze.  I just turn the thing off.

6:47 AM  I wake up.  Mentally calculate that I have about 15 minutes til the circus begins.

7:05 AM Wake up my morning person husband.  He makes Claire's lunch, Everett and I make breakfast for the troops.  Read Claire's memory verse together instead of family devotions.  

8:00 AM Nate drives Claire to school.  I somehow manage to get a shower.  Remind Everett that he's not supposed to get into the crib with Ingrid, who is caged up for her own safety and not happy about it.

8:55 AM With Everett dropped off at school, I pick up Weston for a little "baby nap at my house while his big brother gets a haircut action."

10:00 AM  Lay Westy down for nap.  Start dinner prep.

10:15 AM  Ingrid finds a discarded can of coconut milk and slices her finger.  Screams and invites  Westy to join her.

10:25 AM Cuddle baby while applying pressure to her tiny, chubby finger.  Attempt to re-binky Weston with half-naked Ingrid in my arms.  

10:30 AM Wipe blood from every surface of my house, self and child.  Weston sleeps, Ingrid rallies.  I drink coffee.

11:40 AM Boys are home from school, lunch, spilled bubble solution, tears, power wheels. A note from the school that Everett has failed his hearing screening.

12:30 PM The Ws head home.  Everett heads back outside for more power wheels time.

12:35 PM Everett comes in with "the look" on his face.

12:36 PM "Run to the bathroom, buddy...."  "I can't run"  New pants for Everett.

1:00 PM Everett takes a very loud nap.  I read, finish dinner prep, have short phone conversation.

2:00 PM Rest time is over for the big boy.  We make marble tracks and cards. Unprompted, he tells me that he was supposed to raise his hand during the hearing screening but "I didn't.  Because I didn't feel like it."  

2:55 PM Wake up baby so we can pick up Claire at school.

3:06 PM Retrieve my big girl.  Head to the market.  Bribe the kids for good behavior with promises of donuts and the playground.  They do not comply.  Stick to my guns and tell them we won't be having donuts or playing on the playground.  Tears all around.

4:30  PM  Bike riding with one hand, bike riding with eyes shut, band aids for Everett.

5:45 PM Discover that during the aforementioned very loud rest time, Everett had unloaded his dresser and also removed his drawers and bedding.  I send him in to start folding.

6:35 PM He's refolded every piece of laundry in his dresser.  Shower time.  Half a bottle of baby soap down the drain "because I wanted to."  Nate tells him that he's not going to be able to use soap again.  Silently wonder how that's going to work out.

7:00 PM Stories (Beezus and Ramona; Thomas), teeth brushed, prayers, cuddles and to bed.

8:30 PM Claire is back out, catches me eating a treat.  I share.  We agree to wear our matching pink Toms tomorrow.*

*I can't say that pink corduroy Toms would have been my first choice but the joy on my six year old's face when we bought them made them a clear winner.  I have maybe 2 years left when she's going to want to be matchy-match with me.  She already prefers walking into school with friends.  Even on a day like today, I'm glad we still have a few more years where matching shoes with your mama is cool.

i pictured them swinging him by the ankles.

I asked Everett if he liked preschool.

His response, "Yeah.. I'm the biggest man there."

Then he says, "They waved me at school today."

"They waved you?"  I ask.

"Yep.  I stood on that big white thing like dad has and they waved me."

"What big white thing?" I ask

He starts to get irritated,  "That waver thing, Mom.  That white thing that dad has." 

"Where is the white thing, buddy?" I ask

"It's in the bathroom.  I'm the biggest man in my preschool." He responds, wondering why this is so hard for me to understand.

Waver thing....Weigher thing.... Perhaps a scale?  

Sometimes it takes me a while.  I'm not quite fluent in "big man."

just keep swimming, first day of school style.

Life is moving at lightening speed. Let's slow things down with gratitude.  Here goes:
306.  Her teacher starts the day with singing.  This is the day that the Lord has made, I will rejoice and be glad in it.
307. My brave girl on her first day, squeezed my hand in our secret code.

308.  Daytime dates with this crazyman.  Building lego towers, train tracks, cooking together.
309.  We should go for a coffee date, Mom.
310.  Having time to really listen to him.  When I wondered if there would ever be time for my second child to really feel special.  Spoiler alert:  there was.

My house is a mess. I'm behind in everything.  We've yet to hit our stride, but we keep swimming.  Together.

summer's end.

We took them to Disneyland.  Surprised them in the airport and flew to California.  We left the baby with the Oma.  It was great, but if I had to guess, their favorite experience of the summer may have been this afternoon.  It may have cost $2.  

It may have been in the form of two cans of barbasol.

These two would like to include "end of the summer shaving cream fight" to our growing list of family traditions.  

thirteen point one.

Today Scoobs and I ran a 1/2 marathon.  Holy buckets.  We actually did this.  Grateful for strong healthy bodies.  Grateful for finishing what we started.  Grateful for old friends.  Grateful to my husband for wrangling kids so I could run and bringing them to the finish line because it truly was "our" race this summer.  

august and everything after.

We have been busier than I like.  To compensate, Nate and I fell asleep on the couch after tucking the kids in at 7:30.  I didn't wake up until 6 AM.  I think my body was telling me it needed a break.  I remember a conversation I had with a dear friend a year ago and we both agreed that if we could just get through this season, things would slow down.  But they don't slow down, right?  We pile on more.

We took our big kids to Disneyland this weekend and the frantic pace of the "happiest place on earth" was crazy to me.  We had fun, and we saw maybe 1/8 of the park.  We walked at their pace.  We stopped for water and ice cream (A LOT), we rode It's a Small World a billion times because that was Claire's favorite.  We took pictures with princesses and hugged Mickey and Minnie.  

Their favorite part of the trip?  Milkshakes in the hotel room and hanging out on the beach.  They don't need amusement parks, they need us.  The best parts of our trip didn't get photographed: Everett rolling in the sand and Claire building sandcastles with her hands.  

I'm glad we went.  I'll post pictures of our adventure soon.  

no turning back, no turning back.

Number 1 on the list of things to make me cry is children singing in choirs.  And if those children are singing worships songs, forget it.  Claire and I spent the weekend at church. She sang in the worship choir four times throughout the weekend.  Thankfully, I only teared up once, which was impressive compared to the waterworks I shed this spring when she was a little pig in her kindergarten play.  Also, she ate a huge pickle at Homer Days.

stunt riders?

Somebody taught himself to ride a bike this week.

And then big sister, who has approached her bike with serious trepidation since the training wheels were removed, hopped on like it was no big deal and they rode circles together for four hours.

Also, I overheard this:

C: We're really good at riding bikes.
E:  Yeah
C:  And we're getting better every day.
C:  We're stump riders.

i get to be the one to hold your hand.

There are days when it doesn't feel like a mercy that my last baby has decided to take FOREVER to learn to walk.  But today was different.  Sand between her toes (and in her teeth) turned out to be wonderful motivation.  She signed "more, more, more" and pointed to the ocean.  She attempted to run, did several face plants and took my hand.

It won't be long now, sweet girl.  

paleo popcorn.

This recipe is so dead easy it isn't even much of a recipe. They can be made start to finish during a commercial break and you can be back on your couch with your little sister watching So You Think You Can Dance, if you're into such things. Which, I am.

 We are big fans of popcorn in this house and these little gems satisfy that salty sweet popcorn-y place in our hearts. Definitely hot tamale train worthy.

the claire-athon: instilling the love.

This spring, I signed the kids up for a Kids 3K.  Nate ran with Everett (I believe Everett spent most of the race on his dad's shoulders) and I took Claire.  The course was poorly marked and most of us ended up running a 5K.  (Not Nate and Ev, though because they just turned around at the unmarked turnaround).  Claire was not happy, but she finished the thing.  I figured I had ruined her for running.

Then I had this goofy idea that she could run a marathon one mile at a time this summer.  Yesterday, she completed the final 2 of her 26.2 miles.  While not every mile was glorious or complaint-free, she accomplished something few six year olds have done.  

This goofball chose to "crosstrain" with a unique combination of scooter and as many sticks as he could carry.  Awesome.

july-lights.

This month has been crazytown.   I remember thinking last summer how much fun this year would be, I'd have a baby who only needed one nap and would be walking.  Simple! Easy! Care-free!

So, maybe not.  At sixteen months, Ingrid appears to be VERY committed to crawling.  Also, she enjoys screaming and escaping the house via dog door.

We did swim lessons and a lot of running and children's worship choir practice and canoeing and sleep overs with favorite friends.  Also: gelato fridays.  Love.

This girl, who requests an ice pack for a papercut, got her ears pierced along with her super-brave Grams.  They opted for matching Hello Kitty earrings.  And then we celebrated with gelato. 

some things about having 3 kids.

You will probably only go to the bathroom when you feel like you're about to pee your pants.
Your car will magically morph into a phone booth.
You are probably not going to watch a movie without a pile of laundry next to you.
Finishing your  goal of 11 blog posts per month is impossible.
And forget about capturing moments with the real camera.

A plus?  First trips to the splash pad are just as magical the third time around, especially when our resident non-walker decides to take s few steps hand in hand with her big sis.

that boy with the very low voice.

This is my boy.  Brave.  Fearless.  Occasionally refers to himself as Bootsie.

Summer is going by so fast.  I want to slow time.  The only way I know to do that is to stop and notice.

Some things I am thankful for right now:
Her firm commitment to being our baby
Accidental sleep ins
Watching Claire ride without training wheels
Everett and Wyatt together
Tuesday vegetable deliveries
Running further than I thought I could

4th.

Hope your 4th was this fun:

Again this year we celebrated with friends and a forklift full of fireworks. When we started this nonsense, she looked like this.  And now:

insta-fam.

There are five of us now. How is this possible?

I can remember exactly what shoes I was wearing on which walks when there were only two of us and all the time in the world.

Now you have lines around your eyes. (I do too) And a bit less hair. And I couldn't love you more. 

Last night you said the words every girl longs to hear. Let me help you fold. And we did.

Two friends. Talking late into the night. Folding clothes. Laughing about the day. When they are grown and gone there will still be you and me.

a boy and his scooter.

For at least six months, Everett has announced that he only wants one thing for his birthday: a scooter.  Everett's birthday isn't until September but we found the perfect cherry red scooter on Saturday morning.  

The next day, we were thrift shopping with the kids after church.  Everett fell in love with a well-worn, dirty scooter.  He showed us tricks in the store.  He scooted around as we shopped.  He may have asked us seventeen times if we could buy that scooter for him.  We looked at each other.  The scooter had a price tag of $6.99 and was no where as nice as the cherry red scoot hiding in the trunk of our van.

When it was time to go, we told him to return the scooter to where he got it.  He didn't complain.  He set his jaw and calmly returned the scooter to the toy section of the thrift store.  We could tell that he was holding back tears.  We are familiar with three year olds, this might be the part of the story where he threw a fit.  But on this day this boy obeyed. It melted this mama's heart.

He took his daddy's hand and walked out of the store without complaint.  And the Dada?  Well, he had a little surprise in the trunk of the van for our boy.  

Over and over, Everett said, "I wanted that scooter and you already had this one for me?"

Just like another Father I know.  One who longs to bless us.  It was one of those rare, perfect moments where we got to feel that Father's heart for us and for our children.  All on a Sunday at the Goodwill.

on running like a mother...again.

This is my friend Leslie. She is a runner.  We signed up for a 10K a while ago and I kind of intentionally put it out of my head that I would actually be running those 6 miles. But then we did it and it was mostly fun and only a little bit awful. For me, the rest of the weekend was spent trying to figure out when I'd get to get another run in. And it hit me that however slow I may be, I am a runner. Again.

recipe for crazy sauce.

It only took me nine days to realize that my boy was struggling. I knew that he was acting out. Being wild. Being naughty. But this morning I woke up and understood why. After a year of mornings where he was the oldest child, big sister came home for the summer. What's a second born child to do but start acting like a crazy man?

I can't believe how hard it felt to manage my own 3 children all day.  After the Dada takes Claire to school, Everett and I usually settle in for a game of "quiet vrumming" (his invention) or boom races (another of his ideas).  Then we clean up from breakfast and prepare for dinner.  Today, I gave Claire a job so my big boy could help make meatballs.  He chopped and stirred and made tiny meatballs for his baby sister.  And life was sweet again.

graduating girlie.

Can't wait to recreate this picture in 12 years.  It's going to go so fast.

once. there was this girl who...

First day of school. Kindergarten:

And, last day of school: (more hair, less teeth, bigger backpack, still awesome)

Tonight she graduated kindergarten. I only cried a little. She sang a solo into a microphone. She rocked that thing. And for a girl who wouldn't talk to anyone at the beginning of the year, singing in front of a gym full of strangers was a major accomplishment.

Tomorrow I'll share graduation pictures.  Tiny caps and gowns.  I almost died of cuteness.

mini-me.

Today at school there was an end of the year party.  The kids dressed up as what they want to be when they grow up.  Claire had a hard time deciding.  She vetoed her original idea of being a dentist or a farmer.  In the end, my girl dressed as a mommy.  She packed a baby on her back and a thoughtfully loaded diaper bag.  She wore my big pink beaded necklace and a turquoise flower pinned to her Hello Kitty shirt.  

She told her dad being a mom sounds fun because you get to be the tooth fairy and plan the fun stuff that your kids get to do.  May I remember this when I can't see my way out of the laundry pile and Ingrid's on her third clothing change of the day and Everett wants to pour his own milk...

She wants to be like me.

siri, take our picture.

We skipped church a few weeks ago and hit the beach.  I really, really wanted a family picture.  I wanted to remember this day watching them making castles and running in the frigid water and eating sand and just being together.  This is the best shot we got, the rest of them involved a squirming baby with a goatee of sand.

I read a blog in which a woman said that her husband was so beautiful it sometimes hurt to look at him.  I love my husband, but I can't say that I relate.  And I'm going to guess that Nate manages to look at me just fine.  But these three?  This life.  Holy cow.  Such beauty.  Sometimes I look at my life I can't believe that I ended up here.  Everett frequently tells me that he wants to stay little.  I always tell him that's fine with me.

1 + 6.

This week we got to spend some time with sweet little Weston E.  Littlest brother of Everett's bff.  Two years ago, we took 3 kids and went for coffee and a walk.  I meant to find a best friend for my boy.  What a wondrous surprise to find one for myself as well.  Thanks for sharing your baby with us, Des.

hunca munca by the sea.

It occurred to me today that this will be my last summer wearing a baby at the beach.  Here she is, before she attempted to fit the entire Oregon Coast into her mouth.  It was a perfect day, spent with my favorite people.  

Her adorable vintage coat was mine.  I found it in the attic when Claire was about 2 and still attempted to squeeze her into because I love it so much.  This time, I was prepared.  Also: I kind of love that my second girl had something of mine that is just hers.

and the world spins madly on.

Friday night my world started spinning.  I dreamt of oceans and waves and China.
(I wonder if I will forever associate China with nausea?)

It spun on Saturday when Nate and I had perfect morning date: coffee, the scrap metal yard (thank you Jesus for providing for our family that is uniquely ours), garage sales and lunch.

It spun on Sunday when we took scones and coffee to one grandma and then visited the other grandma for church and lunch.

It spun Monday when my Rachel Dratch-alike new doctor told me that that I didn't have an ear infection but VERTIGO.  I wanted a neat little cure.  She told me to "wait it out."

It spun while I cried and grumbled and said over and over that I just want to feel normal.

And then it stopped.  Rest, a visit to the non-Rachel Dratchish chiropractor and an obscene amount of help from the Oma made yesterday work and today, my world has stopped spinning.

And those who depend on this mama to make an upside down world feel safe and good are grateful.

mothers day makeover

Today I was treated to a mother's day makeover at Claire's school.  She was thrilled provide me with a hand massage, lipstick, eye make up (one eye got blue eye shadow, one gold), bronzer (for one cheek) and hot pink fingernails reminiscent of Heath Ledger's Joker.  Also, 4 plastic flower barrettes at the base of my neck and a gigantic hot pink paper flower bracelet.

And I left it all in.  Then we went out to lunch.  Because I am her mama.

yesterday.

"Our son pulled Eli's glasses off of his face and threw them in the apple tree.  I can't find them.  Please advise."

And we searched and searched.  It was like you had found a magic black hole in our backyard for the glasses.  They are still missing.

There is so much sweetness in you.  You love a good tea party.  You honestly believe that you make kisses and hugs while you sleep and that you're out of them at bedtime.  Then you'll slyly ask if I'm going to steal a kiss and I can see that you're hoping I will.

You made up a song, "My daddy was a farmer when he was born and he toots and he puffs all day long." You're clearly a poet.

You are more than my wild boy.  You call your baby sister Missy and Roofie and you kiss her constantly. You are able to be gentle.  Yet, when the big boys come around you puff up your chest and pull glasses from faces, thinking that is what it is to be big.  I have so much to teach you but I don't know the first thing about being a man.  I am ill equipped and still searching for glasses.

legume love

My beloved paleo cookbook does not include legumes.  I'm still obsessed with the recipes in there, but this week, we did a little peanut butter baking. Exhibit A: these babies. Holy cow. They were good. (And so simple!)  We also made peanut butter muffins. I made the muffins without chocolate chips and they were gone in a day.

Peanut butter, I can't quit you.

Thrift store find

She enjoys the machine that looks like a computer. "But how do we send the letter?" she asks

this beef stew will change your life.

I may have mentioned that I am a tiny bit obsessed with the stunningly wonderful cookbook, Well Fed. I have made this stew three times in the short time Well Fed has been in my house and holy yum. You won't be sorry. There are a few (minor) changes to the recipe from the website to the book, but the online version looks delish too.

Don't skip the orange zest, it sounds fussy but it makes the stew special.

Local tip: yesterday, I picked up a 10 lb. bag of California oranges for $5 across the street from the magic Goodwill.

dear claire.

Today you are six.  The only motorcycle I want to see you on the back of is this one.  And only when it is safely parked in your dad's shop.  I love that you still want to live across the street when you grow up.  I love that you've revised your original plan of having 100 babies and decided that 3 is plenty.  I've loved watching you come out of your shell at school and bounce into the classroom with a wave.

You have made huge strides this year, girlie.  You read.  You've introduced me to Junie B. and I've shared Ramona Quimby with you and now we're reading Charlotte's Web. Watching words come alive to you is magic.

Since you were tiny, you have helped me in the kitchen.  Now, when you help you call yourself the Shoe Chef.  Last night, you set the table.  Then you looked at me and said, "I'll never be five again."  My head knows all of this, but the heart sees you as every age you've ever been.  And I'm in no rush for you to grow up and out, even if you do just move across the street.

I love you, girlie.
Love,
Mama

ingrid ru.

Confession: I don't sneak in and look at you at night the way I did when your brother and sister were babies. I rarely smell your stinky baby head and kiss you on the cheek after you go to bed at night. You do not care to be disturbed by my displays of motherly affection for your sweaty self after you are in your crib. You want to be left alone. So mostly, I abide. But sometimes I sneak in, even though I know I will be met with screams of protest. You will require that I pick you up for a moment to snuggle and settle back down. And I'll do it. Because you are my baby.

a location-specific guide to friday fun.

This idea really only works if you live where we live, but it was an easy fix to a dreary day.

They were arguing out of boredom, so I loaded the kids into the car and planned the destination while we drove.  We crossed the walking bridge at Riverfront Park.  Once we reached the west side, I told the kids to pick up as many sticks as they could carry.  Everett found 3 giant clubs.  Claire found 7 regular sticks.  Everett also found dog poop.  "But I didn't touch it, Mom."  Gold star, buddy.

Then we crossed back over and dropped our sticks into the river.

That's it.  On this day, I was their favorite person ever.

eviecakes.

My boy is dairy and egg free living amongst serious egg eaters. Today I made him some muffins. I accidentally ate 2 of them myself. Wow.

2 cups spelt flour
1/2 cup coconut sugar (you could use regular)
1 teaspoons baking powder
1 teaspoon baking soda
1/4-1/2 teaspoon salt
1 tablespoon lemon juice
1 cup coconut milk
1/4 cup coconut oil (melted)
2 mashed bananas
1/4 t. cardamom
1/4 t. ground ginger
1 t cinnamon

Combine all ingredients. Extra points if you let a 3 year old do the banana mashing himself.

Bake however you normally bake muffins. My oven is weird, so you don't want to bake it at the temperature I chose. Unless you're into crisp muffins.