Tootie Foodie...

So guess what?  I've kinda turned into a weird old foodie.  Does that just inevitably happen with all grown ups?  Like, your taste buds kill over and die off the surface of your tongue with sheer exhaustion from PBnJ overload and old age and you start liking "artsy" things that you would never in your life have even pretended to enjoy in your former years?  Geez, I come around slowly to this stuff, but I really think I'm having a moment of personal growth.

Here's what's the what... I am head-over-heels in love with frittatas.  (Which are officially the, "I'm not-coordinated-enough-to-flip-omelettes" version of fancy eggs).  My latest one involved fresh basil, smoked ham, parmesan and tomatoes.  I mean, who AM I?  I almost posted the recipe because I started drooling on the keyboard... but then I remembered, I'm just me, not Rachel Ray.

I also am totally digging new meat marinades that have crazy ingredients and I'm mixing fresh cantaloupe and blueberries with my cottage cheese.  You know, in general, just doing nasty things my Mom used to do, wherein, I would quickly stick my finger in my mouth and feign gagging.

Yesterday, I decided it would only be right to grill an Avocado and squirt a little fresh lime juice on top then add a dollop of Crema Fresca over it.  It was downright fantastic.  The earth is shattering.  I used to make the barfing sound at all Avocados... even in guacamole form.  I'm a class act like that.

So, you see?  We have on our hands, either the Apocalypse (get your weapons) or a woman who is finally coming of age.  You know, lead a horse to water and all that.

Now, let's even out the scales a bit... I did devour a puff of pink cotton-candy over the holiday, one bubble gum flavored shaved ice, and, of course, some Kraft Mac n' Cheese with the littles... and I enjoyed all of those just as much as my basil frittata.  I think.

And on a completely unrelated note but maybe related in that it is child-like?  We braved the water park yesterday.  We were there when the gates opened so we could get in and out and avoid some of the crowd, and victory of all victories... it worked!  I have a strong love/hate relationship with water parks... like equal parts {ewww and fun} & {thrilling and exhausting}, you know?

But regardless, the little people in my world ADORED it and for the most part rocked it out.  Kaelster was an animal.  Acey Boo stayed nice and cool at home with Aunt Kim.  And then there was this one moment with Dax & a plot of mud... let's just say, Daximus does NOT enjoy the sensation of mud between his toes and all toddler ninja skills are null and void when mud meets toes.  Period.

And so, there you have it... lest you thought I was not maturing... I am... but it's all relative.

Congratulations parents... You win.

Again.

:)

To Box or Not to Box...

We live in a place where you can literally walk to a park if you leave the front door and go any single direction.  West, to the school playground, less than a hundred yards away.  South, to the little yellow park, a hundred fifty yards away.  East, to one of our favorite parks in the big grassy hollow, just two blocks away.  And north, a little bike ride since it's just so much further... you know, three whole blocks.  Sometimes we have to pull out the four-wheelers to make it there.  Grueling.

So, I'm stickin' to my guns about not buying a swing set for our own back yard.  But where things get a little less black and white in my yard planning, is the beloved sand box.

To sand box or not to sand box?  That is the question.

No really, I need your perspective here.

On one hand, these littles of ours will shovel, build, dig & water, for HOURS in Grandma's sand box.  They play so well together.  They actually leave my parents garden alone since there is an alternative to digging out flowers and tomato plants.  They smile with pride at the many things they construct.  It is literally THE babysitting mechanism, and hence, the Richfield house has been dubbed, "The Sandbox House" by my little men.

On the other hand, I don't enjoy sweeping up sand.  I don't love cats and have been warned that cats adore sandboxes.  I could do without the constant sugary coating on every single naked little body part of three little sweaty boys...  But, you know.

Maybe it's worth it?

And if you say something totally sassy, like, "DUH -Look at their faces!"  Then I'll consider it totally  deserved.  Dang.  You know I have a tendency to pull out all the stops if you claim that I'm depriving them of a childhood right of passage.  So "BOMBS AWAY"... guilt trip me into it.

 I'm ready.

I think.

:)

The Fourth...

Let me just show you in sparkler writing how much I adore the Fourth of July.  I promise the message will transfer -- sparkler writing is a Universal language, you know.

Sure, I've raved about it in years past.

I mean RAVED.

And this year is no different in my complete affinity for all things Fourth of July in my Richfield.

Except that now I have this little posse of men that can fully dive for candy along the parade route, and catch fish in the famous fish grab, and spray their Daddy-o with a squirt gun in stealth fashion, and point to the night skies at their "bery faborite" colored fireworks... And so, thanks to them, my heart just sort of "sparkles" on the Fourth.  Pun intended.

Like I take snapshots all day in my head... willing myself to remember every detail.

"Oh, they rode their bikes all decorated up Patriotic style on main like they were big shots in the Children's parade --  They'll SO remember this when they're older just like I do!  I mean, it's their first official drag down main street, you know."

"Yes, they are lighting smoke bombs with their Daddy-o, and Grampa Hooky is teaching them to 'rain dance' through the big colorful plumes of smoke and they are just erupting with giggles." 

{Sidenote... it DID actually rain that night.  Just sayin'.}

"Yay, they are tasting Grandma's homemade icecream and then they'll retaste it thanks the film of vanilla sugar that is left on the roof of their mouths... that sensation equals Fourth of July night."

You know what I mean?

My Dad is the original photo bomber.   
And my hubs is the original dimple flasher.
#LuckyLady

These traditions are my traditions from my childhood book and I get to relive them with the RyGar and babes and I just sort of feel like a lucky little Lost Boy who never has to grow up deep in the heart of Never Never Land.  And everyone knows, that place rocks.

Kinda like the fish grab.  Which Kael completely dominated this year.  Little Dax Man had to call in the assistance of his big bro because they, "Just kept swipping out of his hands!"

 

Big brother stepped up, as you can see.  :)

P.S. Speaking of lost boys, we only had one all week long.  That, is no short of a miracle... but it caused a "make your heart pound out of your chest sensation" none the less.  We didn't have to look too long.  In the bounce houses he was, with no ticket, jumping like a happy little man with the paying customers.  Whatever will we do with you stealth little Daximus?

So it went - all weekend long.

A story book of red, white & blue full of heart-swelling pride in my home... my America... my family.

Sun, Family, Water, Stars, Food, Laughing... Not to mention tired kids and sweaty bodies... but really, the sweaty bodies and associated meltdowns were a given, yeah?

Virtual memory book pages of our own version of summer camp were written right before my very eyes.  I hope these things instill strength, adventure, reverence for family & fearlessness to try new things along with a desire to uphold some tradition.  But mostly, I hope these memories-in-the-making are an endless font of happiness for these little men of mine.  Because above all else I want them to be happy.  And happiness, in my experience, is fairly easy to whip up, if you gather the right ingredients.  

And one of those ingredients may or may not be total, unabashed flirtation with each and every pretty girl that passes you by.  He was so happy it made him somersault with joy.  And he kinda stole the show in his little squeaky shoes with his associated "HI BABY!"  Lock up your daughters... that's all.

So, a huge XO to my home town.  And do you know how much I love seeing all my home town friends with their adorable families?  It makes me so happy to wave at you across the street at the parade or say hello to you in the park and know that we all came from the very same amazing place.

And to my parents who always host the summer bash of the year... here it comes, in sparkler writing...

Y'all are rock stars.

Especially on a summer night in July.

Happy Birthday, America.

Summer Bucket Lists...

We have a little summer check list on the fridge.  Like the A-type personality that I am, I paid special attention to that list this past weekend and it's incessant calling for some check marks...

Rodeo, Cotton Candy & Snow Cones... Check, Check, Check.

Swimming Lessons followed by Waterslides with the whole Clan... Check, Check.

Keeping the littlest man entertained and OUT of the water every day for an entire 1/2 hour was a sweaty full-time job, I tell ya.

Movie Theatre with the Big Littles... Check

{Many thanks to Monster's University, a Gallon of Sprite & a Tub of Popcorn}

Sparklers & Pop Its after Mowing the Lawn & Working on Our Tans... Check, Check, Check.

And Check.

These massive "to dos" are anything but massive, but I swear, do you know what I remember most about summers as a kid?  Those little things like, making popsicles, floating boats down the ditch & sleeping on the trampoline... (Also things on the Ever-Important Fridge List).

And there you have it.  A weekend recap full of Check Marks. 

And soon, my very own Christmas in July... The Fourth!

Just look for a flag-waving freak surrounded by a little family of men all clad in Red, White & Blue.

That'll be us.

:)

Summer is Exhausting...

Sometimes my life is better than fiction.  I mean, really, I have these four darling boys that I get to hang out with all day, every day, and even if I tried, I couldn't conjure up the things they do in real life.  Like they are the best book I've ever had the privilege of reading and it is the actual "Never Ending Story" with new pages and chapters every single day.  Holy smokes I'm lucky.

Let's take for instance, Dax Man.

Yesterday I went to check on him after I'd laid him down for a nap.

He wasn't there.

He wasn't in his brother's bed.

He wasn't lying on the floor.

He wasn't in the closet.

I panicked.

Thoughts of abduction were swirling 'round my head.

There was a full-on Mama Bear whirlwind of activity accompanied with complete panic.

Then, I spotted him.

High atop the dresser all peaceful & "newborn looking",

And posing like he was ready for an Anne Geddes shoot minus the flowered head piece.

Lord have Mercy on me.
Apparently he spotted a coveted binkie & between snagging that & turning on the lamp... things just got plain old laborious as they do.

But really, would you just look at him?

He's like a virtual cherub sleeping on a very hard and uncomfortable cloud.

At this rate, the next time you see me, I'll be the girl with three adorable little boys & a full head of gray hair who is rambling about nap time gone awry and how I must get to the next chapter asap...
Or something equally metaphoric with undertones of complete & unabashed LOVE.

Whew.

You can call off the dogs now, and cancel that World-wide Defcon 5 Alert I put out.

Disaster averted.
Weekend ON.

:)

Ride Hard...

I'm just gonna say it right now...

I am nervous about posting these pictures because the level of cuteness is sort of astronomical and someone might just want to steal them a piece of this tiny (sorta blurry) cowboy hug...

That's right... it's rodeo season.  

Bring on my babies in Wranglers, Cowboy Hats, John Deere gear and Boots...

Then let them walk around and just listen to the "Ooohs & Aaahs" from the crowd.

No joke - it slays just about everybody who ever did walk the planet earth.

Baby Cowboys = Adorable.

So, I'll let the pictures do the talking and I'll be double checking the dead bolts tonight for sure!

I love everything about a good rodeo.  The people, the events, the food, the smells (yes, all of 'em), the sunset, the whole going to collect your belongings beneath the bleachers no short of half a dozen times bit.  Rodeos make me feel like a girl of the west... and I am a freak about being an All-American, Tough as Nails, Western Gal...

With the CA-UTEST boys to ever grace a pair of Wranglers... 

Soon to Be Mutton-Bustin' Champs.

Hash Tag Watch for us at a Rodeo near You!

Rodeo-ers Out.