loves for my little loves

paper airplanes, new paints and a bright red box of pocky

love mix, made with love by the little loves for Mr. J

valentine sprinkles on their traditional morning oats

little splashes of valentine-y-ness here and there

and somehow the little loves are grumpy today. so, an extra dose of curling up on the couch with a movie for all of us. perhaps homemade pizza for dinner (hearts, of course) will chase away the grouchies. or perhaps just more chocolate. 

Happy Valentine's Day

I've tucked little love surprises into these bright red bags, plus our traditional jar of love mix for Mr. J, hand mixed by the little ones. All ready to greet them in the morning. I love my three loves. And they love pizza. so, later, it's mini pizzas, heart shaped of course, with heart shaped pepperoni. of course.

sending loves

for far away grandmas and grandpas, a valentine made by the little ones.

a single project suitable for both boys: multi-sensory finger painting, with white chocolate pudding and a little food coloring. paint a little, taste a little, paint a little, taste a little. and our littlest one is so pleased. several times a day he points to the displayed artwork and says "I made a heart! I made a heart!"

ten.

happy ten to us

my romance

...doesn't have to have a moon in the sky. To be honest, my romance...isn't so romantic. It isn't marked by lavish bouquets or luxurious jewels or jet-setting weekends at posh resorts. No champagne and caviar, no box seats at the opera, no ostentatious textbook Valentine-iness. My romance isn't measured by expense or extravagance or gushing love notes. It doesn't include La Perla, or even breakfast in bed. No vampires or Mr. Darcy nor any Rhett Butlers, neither Sir Lancelot. In fact, most wouldn't consider my romance romantic. But it's mine, my own kind of romantic.

Instead of declarations in diamonds and furs, I find romance hiding, sneaking about in the daily grind. It's in the trash cans, that make their way to the curb each Monday morning while I'm still snuggled up in bed. It's in the weekend pancakes. It's there on the nights he says, "just go, I'll hold down the fort."  Even though I'm pretty sure that means keeping the babies concussion-free while he watches football on TV. Still, it's there. When he checks the used-book store weekly for my next favorite novel. When I take an interest in "the playoffs" or Garth Brooks' Vegas debut or the inspiration behind Gus McCray and Woodrow Call. In the late night runs to the drugstore on my behalf. Now that's true love if ever there was. 

Romance echoes in the sacrifices we make for his talents. In text-ing him the latest milestones on the home front while he's away. In organizing his dresser drawers for the 857th time though 48 hours will have proven my efforts in vain. In watching Masterpiece Theatre with me in a blue moon.  In every trip he makes to the post office simply so I don't have to.  In surprise valentine balloons for the little boys. My romance is dotted with his shameless encouragement in my new challenges and gilded with the silly games and testosterone bonding between one daddy and his two little boys. 

I'm not sure what champagne and FTD really have to do with romance at all, really. I suppose they are romanticized ideas of what makes romance romantic, and I suppose they are all romantically nice things. I certainly wouldn't object to the occasional Godiva or gigantic bundle of stargazer lillies. But, even if it means eating leftover chocolate cake for breakfast and calling it romantic or if it means making do instead of living large, I suppose I'll hang on to this romance, this romance of mine.

love: friends

to be delivered:

after considerable sprinkling experimentation, I believe my favorite is sprinkle-less

and a special masterpiece for daddy, hand crafted by Piglet:

love: notes

this year's version of last year's valentine. more hands to love, this time around. 

love: lunch

for a little boy I love, things he loves to eat, for his lunch full of love on this monday in the week of love.

love: mix

a valentine treat for daddy. made with love by little hands. great fun for those little hands to stir and mix and of course gobble up any straying tidbits. mostly the candy-coated kind. tossing together some of Mr. J's favorite munchies made for a quick cabin-fever remedy, and piglet was pleased to be making a present for daddy.

almonds

peanuts

mini prtezels

dried cranberries

raisins

valentine-y m&m's

we also considered this combo:
almonds, peanuts, macadamia nuts, white chocolate chips, dried cranberries, yogurt-covered raisins & m&ms. didn't seem quite so Mr. J-ish, though.

wear your heart on your...lapel

If I started right now, I might be able to do these. But then again, maybe not, since the baby blanket project I started, anticipating  a simple 4 straight seams and then done, is now a pieced project with 36 squares. And I only have the teensiest clue as to what I'm doing. There is probably an emotional breakdown in my future.

cute little valentine pins, you may have to wait til next year.

clever valentine

many lovely little nuggets of useful info, inspiration, and love all around in my latest issue. 

one of my favorites:

online custom made crossword puzzles for Valentine's Day. 

available february 14th at puzzlemaker.discoveryeducation.com

free of charge, incorporate the quirks and sweet nothings you share with your amor. 

as in, your pet names for him, the location of your first date, the perfume he bought for you...

number 9

Happy Anniversary, Mr. J

9 years...you do the math

1 girl

1 boy

1 dress

1 diamond

1 morning

1 december

1 day

1 for time an all eternity

1 new beginning

it all adds up to

1000s of moments

100s of laughs

100s of tears

9 years

8 vacations

7 semesters

4 moves

2 little boys

1 love of my life

School Days: Travel Studies

Travel Studies: Wrong Track

via travelin oma's school days

Homework: Do any or all or be inspired.

~Have you ever been lost? How did you get found? Write about a travel experience (or a life experience) where you needed help finding your way back. Prompt: "I didn't realize I was lost until______."

~Remember a time you felt a connection to a stranger in a strange place. Start a paragraph with this sentence: "I never found out his name, but I won't forget how__________."

~Read a journal entry you wrote a few years ago. Let your heart visit that place and time, remember what you learned, and realize how far you've come since then.

I didn't realize, at least not completely, that I really was lost until that night. Attempting denial so I could pretend to be in control of my world, totally with it, hip, happenin'. Looking for love (or validation or purpose or contentment) in all the wrong places, as the song goes. Then he showed up. So much planning and effort on his part for a special evening, though we were practically strangers. Alas, his best laid plans unravelled at every turn. Not fault of his own, I knew that. I found a certain charm, and felt a sense of pride, at his flustered words and frustrated attempts at a night on the town. I did my best to help move the evening along in such a way he wouldn't feel like and absolute fool. Let's face it, he just wasn't all that smooth. It was a little funny though. And sweet.

It was easy with him. Talking, sitting, driving that night from one end of town to the other. Just being. I suddenly didn't have to be more this way or less that way, or think this thought or say that or avoid saying something else. I didn't have to try harder or pretend more. Perhaps because I secretly sensed he was nearly putty in my hands, perhaps because he was just that genuine. He wasn't strutting about or fanning his feathers. He was just there. With me. Hanging on my every word. Treating me like he thought I was all that and a bucket of chicken. Treating me as a gentleman should, though completely without airs.

I knew by the end of that night that he loved me. I knew it before he knew it. No longer coasting restlessly. No longer wandering aimlessly through empty relationship after pompous fool after weak-minded oaf after spoiled dope. No longer bouncing from superficial to silly to aimless. No longer lost in the dark hallways of anxiety and self doubt. No longer hesitant or afraid to be found, to be loved. Just as I was. I knew it that night. I didn't want to know it--where would be the drama and thrills if I had the answer? But still, I knew it. Safety. Warmth. Kindness. Just love. Found. And now he's stuck with me.

patience = love

this is a poignant little film. just a couple of minutes.

For my Valentines

[via martha]

We don't make a big fuss around here about Valentine's Day, though we do celebrate in small ways. Cards, small gifts like books or music (twice we've gifted each other the same album, unintentionally), and usually a special dinner at home, whether take-out or homemade like last year. This year I think we'll celebrate with a special breakfast out, and then a special dinner in. Always a special dessert. Cheesecake? Brownies? Probably brownies since I can't seem to get enough chocolate. Heart-shaped of course. I like mine with frosting, but B likes his in sundae fashion with vanilla bean ice cream and hot fudge. Sundaes it will be.

[via bakerella flickr]

As for the cheesecake, I'd love to make miniature versions to share with friends. My mother used to make them often for parties and neighbors. They are hardly gourmet, but add a little orange zest and plenty of brilliant red cherry topping, and they are always devoured. And they just look so Valentine-y!

Miniature Cheesecakes

2 80z pkgs Philadelphia cream cheese, softened

3/4 cup sugar

2 eggs

1 1/2 tsp. vanilla

1 tsp. orange zest

1 Tbsp. lemon juice

foil cupcake liners

1 box Nabisco Nilla Wafers

cherry pie filling--the best you can find or make

Place foil liners in cupcake pan. Place a wafer in each liner. Beat all other ingredients until smooth, then pour into cupcake liners 2/3 full. Bake at 375 for 16-18 minutes. Cool slightly, top with Cherry Pie Filling. Refrigerate.

For Mommy

After a particularly long and tiring day, B took little M on a much anticipated outing to the park. I stayed home and made dinner without interruption. Upon their return, B carried a beaming, rosy-cheeked M into the house. M stretched his hands out to me and stated with pride, "Fwowers, Mommy!" 

He gave me these:

I think I'll keep them forever.

According to B, all damaged "flowers" were tossed aside as M perused and inspected the fallen pine cones beneath a large tree at the park. With each toss he announced "It's bwoken." He chose only the most perfect 2 for taking to Mommy. They are now nestled among the pumpkins displayed in my living room. Later I'll attach ribbon and hang them on my Christmas tree. 

Proud to be a pushover...

Some friends recently referred to me as a "pushover mommy", mainly on the point that M still has a chupa (pacifier) at bedtime. OK, fine, yeah, it's been hard for me to take it away from him and easy to find reasons to let him keep it. I'm getting there. In  other areas though, I feel I'm a toughie: Balanced meals, whatever is prepared. Please and Thank You. Baths nightly. No video games.  The Naughty Corner--until the timer dings and he apologizes with hugs. Bedtime and naps are observed with great regularity.

I am, however, a sucker for one thing that's certain: snuggles. I welcome each and every opportunity for snuggles and cuddles from my little M. Like when he wakes up in the night crying "Afraid! Afraid!"  Like when he wants to read stories and plants himself firmly in my lap and rests his head against my chin for story after story. And like tonight.

Our bedtime routine has been challenged lately, with the introduction of the "big boy bed." Going to bed is not the problem, but staying in bed is. We finally put a lock on the outside of his door.  After 25 minutes of sobbing and pounding last night, he fell asleep on the floor up against the door. Tonight it took only 20 minutes. A couple of hours later we moved him to his bed and he asked for a song in his half sleeping state. A verse of  "Jesus Once Was a Little Child" then B left the room. I laid down next to M and stroked his forehead as he began to drift. A few minutes later, he turned his face close into mine, smiled and softly whispered "More. Jesus."   

Who could resist? 

I obliged and continued to stroke his forehead until his breathing deepened and his limbs relaxed. As I rose from the bed he bolted upright, asking me to lay down. I willingly obliged again. As he began to drift off to la-la-land, he rested his feet upon my side, and, eyes closed, took my hand in his, placed it on his chest, and squeezed. With one soft little hand he clutched my thumb, with the other he stroked my fingers.

Again, who could resist? 

There I stayed until his hands fell to his side in deep slumber. Reluctantly I made my exit. I will snuggle him as long as he needs. Or, rather, as long as I need. Because I do need, as I need oxygen to breathe.  I know these sweet tender moments are bound to disappear all too soon.  I haven't the desire nor the will to resist them now, despite his frequent 2-year-old-naughtiness. If it makes me a pushover, well, I'm OK with that. 

Come on, could you resist this?

Happy Birthday!

to my bestest friend and sweetheart

[photo by Kelly]

To celebrate you will spend the day fly-fishing on the glorious Snake River with "the guys". While you are away, someone else will mow the lawn, pull the weeds and organize the garage. You will come home to a succulent steak & ribs dinner and my best ice cream cake. Then we (without "the guys") will snuggle on the sofa while watching your favorite movies. You will receive a new pimped-out truck with a big ribbon tied around it.  The Aggies will win a football game. I will look like Scarlet Johanssen for 24 hours.  Just for you, babe.

Ok, so I made it all up. But, those are my wishes for you anyway. Have a wonderful day.

xoxoxo

If your heartstrings need a little tug

read this article...

While we're on Memory Lane

Brit recently asked about my first date with B. It's not terribly thrilling story, and it might embarrass B just a bit, but it's a memory I hold dear; I knew that night he would fall madly in love with me.  He'll deny it, but he knows that I know that he knew he wanted me pretty bad. *****

Preface: I was living in SLC, and B was living in Cache Valley (with his parents!) and attending USU. We met fleetingly on New Year's Eve via a mutual friend. Word on the street is B wouldn't rest until he got my number. Yeah, I did look pretty hot that night...Anyway, 3 weeks later, B tracked me down. Charming though he was on the phone, I couldn't remember which of the boys I'd met that night he was! I accepted the date anyway. He was willing to drive from Logan to SLC, how could I refuse?    *****

He was on time, good looking (whew!), and actually had a plan. Impressive. Too bad his great plan fizzled out and the date was pretty lame. His chosen dinner spot had a 2 hour wait. Strike 1. Since he didn't know what else was nearby, I made a quick, yet lame, suggestion for him. During dinner I boldly asked what happened to his pinky finger (he only has half), which was terrible of  me. After dinner he wanted to take me to a show at the old Hansen Planetarium, but it had been replaced by "Laser Oldies." Lame. Strike 2 for B. He was noticeably embarrassed. We kicked around the planetarium for a while at my suggestion and again I did something ridiculous: I climbed on the giant scale to weigh myself. B has never forgotten that. Grasping at straws for something to do, we wound up kicking around Super Target. Lame, yes, but I knew he was disappointed, even though we were getting along great, and he didn't know the area to suggest alternatives. He was so nice--I didn't want him to feel bad so I just suggested whatever was nearby. Totally lame. While heading back to my place, I remember thinking to myself: this poor guy wants to marry me and doesn't even know it yet.  When he walked me to the door he asked for a second chance to embarrass/redeem himself. The rest is history: 2nd date was a great dinner followed by a Jazz game.  The pivotal 3rd date involved a rented movie, and a little, uh, well, more. By April I had weeded the gomers from my life and had eyes only for B. This story is much funnier if you've experienced it personally, or if you personally know B. He still says he can't believe I accepted a second date...I can't either!

side note: my very first date ever was with this friend and also included a laser show, only in downtown Seattle, not SLC.