These are the lessons folks

This morning Greta's toast was "too toasty" (means too crispy), and following the tears, and admonishment of the toaster to "do better next time", we had a little talk.
I mentioned that I didn't want to start my day this way, a melt down, over toast crispness, so early. And to my surprise the idea that there was such a thing as my day blew Greta's sweet mind.
"You mean MY day." Honestly perplexed.  "Your day? Mommy, you mean MY day!"
And here we come to the root of all sorts of daily distress.
Little Thing didn't know there was such a thing as another person's day. That the world doesn't work and move to her preferences, and that there are other people to consider. Lack of this knowledge explains a lot actually.
So I had to break it to her.
"The world isn't about you Greta. It's not about me either. Or daddy, or anyone. It's about loving Jesus and loving other people."
(Now, this is off the fly and on little sleep.)
But the truth of it struck me, as I examined my motives.
Rats.
It's not about my morning either.

I hope you are able to spend the extra long weekend loving on people! There's so much sadness and hurt going around. I'm sure the world could use it.

The Oddball Shelf

Want to hear something sentimental?
I am so in love with one square foot of our house. This little wedge of a shelf.
Because these are the records-the music that seems to be constantly streaming from our speakers- that are the soundtrack for this blip in time. Where my children are little, Oliver eats from a high chair tray, and we are a tight knit club.
This precious square foot belongs to our "oddball collection". Which consists of children's records and the old timey music I like to listen to during breakfast/playtime/lunch/dinner prep/and let's face it, just about whenever Kent isn't around and a lot of times when he is.
The records themselves for the most part aren't too valuable, but the memories are.
Late Winter breakfasts and crafty afternoons listening to Cinderella, Snow White, and that scratched up Winnie the Pooh. (big hits leading into and surrounding our trip to Disneyland).
Dancing in our jammy jams in the kitchen to both sides of Benny Goodman*, Oliver popping berries to the beat.
Italian dinners to the accordion tunes of the French/Italian Hits record, (which has grown very familiar, as Italian foods happens a lot around here, and isn't it so fun to match food with music?) 
Which also explains why Zorba the Greek is so close to the top of the queue.  I crave Greek food in the Summer, and have been really into making Tzaziki sauce lately.
Hank Williams when my mom visited, Big Foot** at game nights,  Edith Piaf when I'm feeling dramatic, and wait, why is Simon and Garfunkel on my side? (I call this shelf mine)...Oh yes, because we have two, and the spares end up on this shelf too.
Our photo albums hold a big portion of our family history, along with our book shelves, but I don't want to forget this little shelf.
I get a feeling that someday my heart is going to ache for the sight of it.


*The sweating was so profuse, I skipped the gym that day.

** Our family GEM, that deserves it's own post.

Just let it lie...

The past few weeks have been a whirlwind for us!
Lots of excitement, business, and a good dose of home organization thrown into the mix. We are sitting on some really amazing news, which at the moment isn't really our story to tell.
(No one is pregnant.) And It has added a fresh breeze of joy and anticipation to our doings around here. Stay tuned...
But today I'm going to force myself to lay low day. A no pressure to get anything done kind of day. No back to school prep, brainstorming, organizing, list-making.
The plan is to go easy, let the toys lie, and keep the goals modest -buy ingredients for potluck salad.

I think we can use one of these kinds of days.

Buried in Berries

"Moonberry, Starberry, Cloudberry Sky - " "Boomberry, Zoomberry, Rockets shoot by !' "Mountains and Fountains rain down on me," "Buried in Berries, what a Jam Jamboree !"
-Bruce Degen

That's about right. This little dude looooves berries, they speak to him, so every day is a little Jam Jamboree at our house!
This is what he looks like when he sits down to eat. NOM! and MORE!

Class in Session

I've really been enjoying the slow, flexible, pace of our Summer days.
But besides being able to lay in bed a little longer, I think Greta pines for preschool.
She misses the structure, the kids, the teacher to be in awe of, so to cope we end up spending about 80% of each day in some sort of imaginary class.
This little one has a pretty packed schedule actually.
There's craft class, snack class, dance class, song class, and my personal favorite: sleep class, which is where you carry a blanket around with you and practice sleeping in different places around the house.

For craft and dance class I'm teacher*, and for snack class I'm "Chef". For song and sleep classes I'm exempt from leadership since it's an independent study she likes to do in another room.

And then, for a twist around noon each day Greta and I change roles (at her insistence) and she becomes the mommy while I get to be Greta Girl.
However there's no real change of power as I still make lunch and do all the tasks I usually do, only at this time Greta (as me) gets to repeatedly ask me if I would like some water? And I go get water from the sink (as Greta Girl) and she applauds me when I return at doing such a good job learning to get water from the sink.
Sound confusing? It is a little.
I love her sweet imagination so much, and I treasure my part in it, seriously, it will be something I will always cherish about our days together.
Buuuut, I think school in a month will be good for her, and I think I'm going to find a lot of comfort in finally knowing who I am at any given moment.

* Mrs. Feather-Bottom or Weather-Bottom....I keep naming myself something-bottom but she doesn't even laugh! School is very serious.

THE Cookie

Last night the unthinkable happened. I baked, and it wasn't the worst!
It was kind of magic really. I had a sweet-but-not-too-sweet tooth, and I was sitting on the counter next to the baking cabinet, and it just sort of came together.
It helps that it's a very simple recipe, and a cookie that means comfort and familiarity*. Kent and I like to call them "Meal Replacement Cookies", because they are the size of your fist and full of what could essentially be ones breakfast.
I remember taking these to the hospital in my purse when I was going into labor with Greta as I had heard rumors about them not feeding you once you get there...so you know, I wasn't going to let THAT happen. And I remember eating them the day after when my body just got schooled, and thinking Ohhh these cookies, they are just the same as always.
Make them, freeze them, put them in your purse/back pocket?, so they are there when you need them.

Great Grandma Eva's Oatmeal Cookies
2 cups flour
1 tsp salt
1 tsp soda
1 cup shortening
1 cup brown sugar
1/2 cup white sugar
 2 eggs
2 tsp. vanilla
1/4 cup milk
4 cups oats

Mix together, then add 4 cups oatmeal, then your bonuses like choc. chips, coconut, dried fruit, nuts, etc. (coconut and choc. chips are our favs)
I hand form these bad boys, to make sure they are big enough to be properly termed as "Meal Replacement".
Bake at 375 for 12-15 minutes.

* These cookies = My mama