These chickens.

I am pretty sure the kids are spreading dog food (dry) across the floor, but at least they are being quiet.

Where Ya Been?

I dunno. Dance class, farting around the house, feeding the babies special treat (they split half a piece of chocolate buttermilk cake the other night cos Mama loves them.)

Now a weekend is almost gone, and Auntie Caitlin is here and Dad and Eli were visiting and somehow, shockingly, it is late Sunday afternoon and I can't believe the Day Of Rest is almost over and it's another work week tomorrow.

Sigh.

November First, 2010

I can't believe it's November. I can't believe we've been married five years. I can't believe we have two kids, who are more and more decidedly kids and not infants.

It has gotten so much easier.

It's not easy all the time.

But it is so much easier.

We sleep. We play. We cuddle and read books and I can see how soon we'll be able to go on walks that are more fun and less exhausting.

We smile at each other.

We say thank you and give hugs and say I love yous and I'm sorry's and sleep tight.

One, two, three, four, Annaliese says, counting her family. That's right. We are a family of four. Her best friend is Addy Clair on Monday and Maddie BrockBrock (?) on Tuesday and Grayson and Braden on Wednesday but never Reese (she does not care for Reese). Caspian two weeks ago could say Mommy and Daddy and now he can say thank you and buh-bye and uht-oh and this weekend K swears he said pancake and medicine (in context, thank you).

Time is alflyin'.

Happy Halloween

Meet Monkey.

Princess Butterfly Faerie.

Thomas the Train, Princess Buterfly Faerie, romping during adults' beer-and-potty break (best idea ever).

It was fun.

Such A Nice Weekend With the Fam

Despite the incredibly juvenile pillow fight that K and I had last night which ended with him pulling a hair out of my temple and me headbanging him in the nose...

It was a really nice weekend.

Lots of waffles. We spent some time working outside. Annaliese taking breaks from her obsessive balloon-blowing to help K on the car, one or two or no kids riding the wheelbarrow of mulch I was carting around. We went to the library and to the best park we've ever gone to and watched Caillou and took a loooonnng Sunday nap that was in fact so long that BOTH of our children were awake and blowing raspberries at 10pm last night. (A first!).

Caspian says Mommy and Daddy and nods yes and shakes no and goes "sssss" if you ask him to say please. This morning I crouched down and said, I've got to go to work, buddy. Give me a hug. He gave me a gooey kiss instead and then waved bye.

Annaliese calls him nothing but "Brother" these days and alternately takes everything from him/tickles, coos, and plays with him. She is obsessed with these new Zutano leggings i got her and wants to wear nothing else. She can count to twelve reliably and writes As all the time and identifies Ws and Ms. She is potty-trained. Sometimes she tells me she is a zebra and grins.

And K.-- well, I like him. He makes good waffles. He smells nice. I like to watch Castle with him. He's smart and interesting and, unless I ask him to turn off his bedside lamp or pick up his socks, very, very nice to me.

We took a few pics but I am at the store and don't have them.

Ramble officially over.

stuff i write when the store is empty

The Local Yokels

Character Sketches of The Latest Locavores

“I think,” the woman, said, “that your store is fabulous.” She picks up a glass bottle of case-sugar A&W root beer. “How do you get all these things locally?”

He looks like I am holding something dubious and smelly under his nose. Really, though, I am not holding anything, and he is fingering a package of gourmet wild mushroom ravioli. “Where were these made? Did you make them?”

I sell freshly brewed fair-trade coffee two ways: by the cup (75 cents) or by your cup (25). I do this because I don’t like spending my money on paper. So it’s fine that this frizzy-haired girl with the bike and the Black lab came in with her own mug for some coffee.

It is less fine when she sits in one of my three booths for two hours during sandwich time.

When she comes to the counter to settle up (54 cents with tax: she got a refill), she says, “I would love to get a farm, raise my own vegetables, get some chickens. Industrial agriculture is so terrible, and you know, people just don’t know. We have to support local stores like yours.”

She gives me exact change.

You know who’s fun to sell groceries to? People who love to eat.

“Try this,” I say, and the plump woman’s eyes roll back in her head as she tastes our house-made curried chicken salad.

“I love this bread,” the elderly woman says. She is holding a loaf of ciabetta. “Can’t pronounce the name, but it sure tastes good.”

“This smoked turkey,” the pest control man says with conviction, “is the best I have ever had.”

A lady buys two of our baker’s Salty Pecan cookies, pays, leaves. Three minutes later she’s back in the store. “I made the mistake of trying these,” she says. She buys eight more to take with her on her road trip north.

An elderly black woman lays three Georgia peaches on my counter. She counts out her change carefully.

Another customer comes to the counter with a sackful of local tomatoes. “I love me some tomatoes,” she says. “I’m allergic to them, but I eat ‘em anyway. That’s why God made Benedryl.”

It’s gotten fashionable to care more about where food comes from than how much it costs or how it tastes. I have my own theories on how to encourage local agriculture, but here is the one thing I know as a person managing a grocery store: food is what nourishes us. It’s what grows our children and feeds our souls and it absolutely matters where it comes from. But many of the local food purists who come in my store are missing the point: food should be eaten, enjoyed, and relished. “Mangia, Mangia!” is the saying after all-- not “Nitpick, nitpick.”

Two dAYS aGO nOW, a bOY and a Ballerina

She took her crazy "Baby Doggie" to class. They were both pink. He and the sunglasses were her idea.

Caspian isn't supposed to have a pacifier in his mouth, but he found it. It was his idea. He also likes touching his sister's candyfloss hair.

She is a little bit of a diva. And she loves her ladybug bag. Her tap shoes are in it. As well as a quarter. That was her idea.

Caspian likes the cap on the screw that holds the toilet down. This photo was not my idea. They weren't listening. We were late for class. Everyone wants a picture of his haircut.

At least you can see the back.

Several Things

My husband threw me a surprise party! After a fancy dinner at our favorite restaurant! I hate parties, but man, this one wasn't so bad, and it was incredibly sweet, no doubt about it.

Plus I got more presents. Hee!

----

Read this this morning.

Not unsympathetic-- what mama would be? But as an econ major, one thing strikes me... if you have two workers, one of whom is going to take several years off from work, miss more days, etc, you are likely going to protect yourself against the anticipated costs by paying her less.

Kids cost. They do. At the store right now, I have two choices: one, work for free and leave in the early afternoon, or 2, get a (measly) salary and work crazy hours, typical entrepeneur ship style.

I pick one because I can afford to (thanks Baby!) and because if I didn't, it would have very serious ramifications for my family.

So I don't get paid. Although I do swipe six bucks every Friday for yoga class.

It's not ideal, what's happening in France, but at least they don't both get paid less and get no maternal support from the country.

Now as to the husband-household thing... men, get off your butts! Help out! Sheeshums.

It's My Birthday!

So my sister gave me this pic behind the spoons, which I LOVE, and plan to hang above the stove. My mum has sent me gazillions of bulbs-- YES!!!- to plant under my redbud tree and where I will. My friend Megan called, which is amazing, because I have yet to remember HER birthday. My mother-in-law sent me a note and a gift certificate.

And my sweetheart made sure I came home to this today:

Bright outside which means the details of the freshly baked pound cake on the counter might be lost. But freshly baked pound cake!

I love my birthday.

And I love these 'uns too. What a lucky girl I am.

My Seester Came to Visit.

Highlights of her visit: walking into the store, making a tailgate platter, getting thrown into an apron and into the kitchen to make sandwiches for burly men with tattoos.

By Saturday she looked like this:

And then I made us all go to the garden this morning and plant a redbud tree as a fall consecration ritual.

(Photo taken after Annaliese and I dragged her back to the garden.)

Luckily she got to have some fun as well.

Cheers, Sister. We loved having you.

C

Good Papa

He may be a Mama's boy who is going to grow up and Take Me Out to Lunch but every boy needs a papa and this un's got one.

K's a great dad. Plays fort, makes waffles, changes diapers, dispenses band-aids, and tells his kids how much he loves them.

No wonder every evening holds thirty seconds of shining faces and clapping hands when the truck pulls in the drive.

Kidlets

It broke.

Today we have the screens open. The sun is shining but not beating down. There is a cool breeze. A/C is off.

Keep your fingers crossed.

There's a white bean and roasted garlic soup on the stove, the kitchen floor is clean, and the bebes are napping after a long morning of waffles, Woody the Woodpecker, hanging on the porch, playing outside, swimming in a kiddie pool, strewing said kiddie pool with zinnia petals, and eating their weight in grapes.

They fight and laugh and wrestle and hug and yell and hit and hold hands together. Caspian won't go to sleep without Annaliese in the room. Annaliese is always trying to get Baby Brudder to join into her games, for which she has a VERY specific role for him, and getting mad when he won't like down and get tucked in like her dolls.

I love these two.

I think they love each other too.

I'd like to do a photo collage thing of the last five years, but this isn't it. Our actual anniversary celebration isn't until January, when we're taking four days to ourselves somehow somewhere, but we ate steak and drank wine and had apple pie anyhow.

I'm trying to keep some herbs inside over the winter. Despite the fact it is still hundred degree summer here, I went ahead and transplanted them.

The kids have been exceptionally great. We went on an "a-venture" to Fred's the other afternoon and I got the kids new art supplies, 5 dollars and an hour's entertainment worth.

Annaliese got paints.

Caspian got crayons. He spent his time moving them from container to container and freaking out when he dropped one, but he seemed to like them.

Then he got sick and has been ill all weekend. Coughing and snotty and low-grade fever. He came out of it mid-day and hasn't stopped talking since.

He's better. Monday's coming. I can't believe we're almost into October and it's still so frickin' hot outside. That's all I got.

The Daily Grind

My mom asked me the other day about getting something at wal-Mart, and I was all like "woman, I don't leave water Valley anymore."

And it's true.

Mon-Friday: give kids breakfast, turn them over to K at 7am, arrive at store at 7:30, open at 8, work until 2:30-3, pick up kids, play/pick up house/ make dinner, K gets home, we eat, we clean up, we clean kids, we watch a show or settle down with a book or 2x a week, he leaves at 7 to work on renovation projects and I clean-clean the house-- mopping, bathrooms, etc. Sometimes we have a date if it's Friday.

Saturday: K stays home with kids and I work until 1. I walk home and we kiss and switch. He works on renovations until 7 while I hang with kids/garden if it's cool enough/etc. He comes home after kids are in bed and we chill together.

Sunday is family day. No one leaves. I get up with kids and let K sleep in a little. I usually get an hour or so to play in the garden. In the afternoon, we tend to go to the Oxford library and replenish books. We do a lot of laundry and take the garbage out and occasionally mow the lawn.

Rinse and repeat. What with the 6th day of work, I'm clocking in 42-ish hours a week at the store, alone with the children for 16, and we don't have a maid or a yardman.

Good thing I love my store. Good thing I love my kids. But 4 months in and Mama's ready for a bit of vacation.

PS Dinner Tonight

Tonight, I asked K about his day. Before he could answer, Annaliese said these exact words:

"Can I talk about my day?"

And we of course said yes. So how was her day?

"Good."

And then she picked up some grapes and said she was through talking about it.

talking kids are awesome.

Fall?

Tempting fate but man the weather is nice. We journeyed north yesterday to meet my friend Danielle in Holly Springs at the Hummingbird Migration Festival, held at a totally cool 2600-acre antebellum plantation that was deeded to the Audobon Society in the 60s and now features native plantings, bird habitats, etc.

Other than the MISLEADING "wagon ride" which turned out to be a 40-minute, glaring sunshine, cramped nature tour entirely unsuited for talkative adults and small children, it was a win. The weather helped a lot, since there was no A/C to be had.

We had fun. Kids had fun.

Until they didn't.

(bottom pics actually from lat week's pep rally, but they get the point across.)

And then we went home.

Perfect outing :) LOVE those friends who get toddler limitations and have fun anyway!

aMUSING Stories

1. No secret that I fell guilty about my love of the daycare. I love it. I do not pine at all for the year- (ish) I spent at home with each child until they started.

Friend in town recently had her second child; oldest started at Annaliese's place when he was 2 years old. This one? I saw her out and about and I asked where the baby was. "Day care," she said. "Miss Linda said he had to be six weeks old so he couldn't start until after Labor Day."

It was Tuesday. (The day after Labor Day).

Made me giggle.

2. The other grocery store here recently go a makeover. I knew this because their out-of-state painting crew came into the store to get some of Billy Ray's milk. About time, I thought; the store hasn't been freshened up in years.

But no. Not just ANY paint job, BUT

faux-brick walls with large signs and murals proclaiming "Water Valley Farmers' Market" and "Farm-Fresh Dairy" (even though they carry shrink-wrapped squash and Best Choice milk).

Faux-brick! FAUX-BRICK!

Heh.

3. Last weekend, Annaliese ran behind the swings at the state park and a kid swinging knocked her over. Totally an accident; the doesn't understand physics, he was just swinging. Whatev. This morning we were cuddling on the couch and she told me emphatically that a boy had knocked her over. "When honey?" I said. "On the swing," she replied. " I wasn't sure if she was talking about a recent incident or what, so I asked, "which boy?" And she paused and then said, "The black one."

Ok. Hmm. Kids are descriptive little beings but it's kind of interesting she said black instead of brown, number one, because he wasn't black black. We don't really talk about race. I figure I'll wait until she actually says something racist before I whip out my we-'re all-equal speech; don't want to impose the long weight of our countries' history with race on her 2-year-old observation, but still, it gave me pause.

I just said, "Oh, that was an accident," and kissed her head. She seemed affirmed by that.

And yeah, that's the end of that story.

Cuteness

Do you know how HARD it is to get two kids in the same place, not moving, smiling, so you can take a pic of the CUTIEPIE MATCHING SHIRTS I bought on sale yesterday?

Ignore the crazy photographer and the blue crayon scrawl on the mirror. Someday you will have kids and understand. Or you will die childless and well-rested.

K's gone on a brief business trip. We had a nice Labor Day weekend. We're having sweet potatos for dinner. I recently realized I weigh 800 pounds since starting the store, apologized to K for getting fat, and am doing super-fun things like foregoing cookies and running up hills. Everything's good, in other words. Work, but good.

I really love this picture.

Caspian's getting pretty close to talking. He says Mama now sometimes, as well as Daddy. Annaliese has taken up waking at the crack of dawn but these kids have me so happy to be getting multiple hours of uninterrupted sleep that I don't really care.

Hold K in your hearts and wish him home quick. Otherwise, peace be with YOU.