weekend preview
So much to tell about this weekend. Here's a preview: (writer, director, and star of In The Heights)(one of my favorite musicals) I'm tired. I'm sunburned. I'm still smiling. More tomorrow. I need to unpack and kiss on some kids. And thank my very generous husband for indulging me in my antics. . . .
tea party
Whenever the boys are away, the girls and I have a tea party. I don't remember how this was started, but the tradition has stuck. It's pretty simple - I lay a blanket out in the middle of the kitchen and brew some herbal tea. India invites a doll or two. Karis sits in the bumbo so she doesn't upend the tea. We sip. Tonight was a tea-party night. Mark took the boys to the barber shop, and as soon as they were out the door, India pulled out the blanket and . . .
mucho caliente
In my online world, I tend to overshare. I'm usually okay with that (thought I think a few family members might prefer me to filter a bit). It's rare that I feel regret after sharing something embarrassing. I have no problem talking about our sex life to half of Orange County, or discussing the time I flashed the crowd at a circus, or the fact that I occasionally eat stale candy off the floor of my car. But the footage I took Mark and I tonight, as we got in touch with . . .
that’s what she said
wwI've been way behind on linking, which is why this is gonna be a long list. But here are some of the posts I've enjoyed in the past few weeks: I love everything about Catherine's writing at Her Bad Mother, especially her bad mother manifesto, so it's hard for me not to link to pretty much everything she writes. But I loved her post entitled Love Is A Many-Splendored And Sometimes Sort Of Exhausting And Anxiety-Provoking Thing. I think that sort of says it all. I think . . .
adventures in daytime tv
We got back from New York last night. It was a whirlwind, and I think it will forever be dubbed our Ultimate Date Night Weekend. We got in around 10pm on Tuesday night, and The View had a driver to pick us up. Having our own driver made us feel very self-important. We tried to work the phrase "our driver" into as many sentences as possible over the weekend. i.e. "Should we have our driver drop us at the restaurant?" "Do you give the driver a call to tell him . . .
off with a bang(s)
I am typing this from a plane. I am flying through the sky and surfing the web. We live in crazy times. I can't stop thinking about that routine that Louis CK did on Conan, about how quickly we lose perspective on it all. The last couple days have been a worldwind trying to get ready for this trip on such short notice. I'm already sick of myself for the whining I'm doing about it, but let me say this: my hair has been botched, and my outfit is iffy at best. The only day I . . .
let’s get dumb like beavis, I don’t care who sees us . . .
Whew. I am tired. We spent the day at an outdoor musical festival. We had a booth there to sell our Haiti t-shirts. Our booth was in the family section of the venue, right in front of four bounce-houses. It was a Christian festival (hence the name Fishfest), and let me tell you. I was praising the Lord on high when I saw that placement. We had all four kids with us, and I had been worried how we would keep them entertained. We got there around 2pm, and the three bigger . . .
the view from here
So . . . some big news. I am going to New York on Tuesday to do a taping for The View. It will air on Friday. It is for a segment about adoption. Oh my word. I am not usually the nervous type. I AM NERVOUS. I'm excited, too. They are flying Mark and I out. For the first time in my life, I will get off the plane and one of the drivers holding a sign up will have MY NAME on it. I think I might be most excited about that. And New York City. Even . . .
gun control
I spend a lot of time pondering the disparity between the mom I thoughy I would be, and the mom I am. I was such a good mom before having kids. I had dreams of my children playing with quaint wooden toys, learning piano at a young age, and having picnics in meadows (eating only organic food, of course). Somehow my reality of motherhood involved a lot more plastic, McDonalds, and trips to Target than I ever imagined. That meadow picnic? Yeah, that's never happened. Also in my dreams of . . .
princess picky
This is a repost of our talk-back on Mama Manifesto today. I'm copying it here because, well. . . Help. I was very lucky with my first child. He was one of those rare kids who will try anything. We call him our little "foodie". He appreciates sushi, goat cheese, tobasco sauce, and any other number of food items most would consider to be more adventurous. I always thought we had somehow trained his palette by providing him with many food choices as an infant . . .
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