You'll Be Glad To Know That Mrs. Mudge Has Bought Herself A New Set Of Teeth For The Occasion

My Precious. Wasn't it yesterday that he was The Cutest Baby In The World? On Friday we took a tour of Parkview Christian School where he will be starting Kindergarten in the fall. I'm so grateful for this school - it's a part of our church which is a mile away, only half-day and 4-days-a-week, and it's educational philosophy follows the idea of Charlotte Mason (and all you need to know about that is that it's pretty much the cutest little Laura Ingalls Wilder sort of set-up your could ever hope for). The principal walked us through all the classrooms and he got to meet his soon-to-be teacher, Mrs. Funk. (I ask you, is there a better name for a Kindergarten teacher in all the world?) He's still obsessed with the inter workings of machines, though he isn't determined to watch each and every wash cycle these days. He spent yesterday afternoon with his beloved Eunice Chantilly* and her mom (Gillian) was working on a sewing project. Apparently he became fixated with her sewing machine and had to figure out how all the parts worked. I have a sewing machine set in a piece of furniture that was Phil's grandmother's and I have never even plugged it in. This morning Andrew was checking it out and trying to tell me about a part of it I would have to do something with to let out the lead? I have no idea, but it's scary that he could probably set it up and sew something now after his lesson with Aunt Gill. Oh, and this morning I had the milk carton out on the table and he says, "Mom, this says 'keep refrigerated." What the hay?

We've had a week of simply glorious weather and spent some time at the zoo, where I took the photo above. Getting the picture of them together was hilarious, Andrew trying to put his arm around her and lovingly putting a choke hold around her neck, Elsbeth the ever moving target hopping around in circles and jumping off the curb and wandering over to see the birds. Elsbeth was mesmerized by the flamingos, standing silently watching them for a while, then saying definitively, "Chicken." We also got a little lesson about how silly flamingos are when they play, giving each other odd-looking piggy back rides. "Mommy, what are they doing?!" Aye yie yie. The Fiery One continues to chatter up a storm which I think has brightened up her little world. Being able to communicate many of her strongly-felt thoughts and desires has lead to much less screaming and lots of giant smiles and sweet hugs and kisses. Joy of joys! I make make it after all!

On a completely unrelated note, I just went on a women's retreat. Yes, moi. If you know my thoughts on women's retreats in general (I spelled them out in a blog post years ago - it's my first confession), this may be surprising. Shocking, in fact. When they began to promote this retreat at church, Phil leaned over to tell me (in all seriousness) that I was welcome to go. I burned holes through his face with my glare. He went on to say how he wouldn't mind at all taking care of the kids on his own and could even take some time off work if need be. I answered something to the effect of, "I'd rather have my limbs severed with a spork." Then Mischa e-mailed me. She invited me to go and share a room. She's a young mom in the church, wife of the music/youth director, and she's just the most friendly and kind person and she looks like a Pantene model. We get together occasionally to let our kids play together and I have really enjoyed getting to know her as much as is possible with little ones whizzing around our knees. Clearly going on the retreat would afford us the opportunity to have entire conversations, and I really have wanted to get to know her and the other women of my new church a lot better. So I said yes.

And then I broke out in hives. This was me as I headed out the door, full of joy and anticipation of the next 24 hours. You know what, I survived. Three women from the church (including Mischa) shared about their lives with the rest of the group and did a lovely job. I got to hang out and chat with a bunch of other women on topics ranging from Triskets to thyroids and not once did anyone suggest an outlet mall. Mischa, Dina (my other fabulous roomie pictured below) and I were all terrified of the giant Jesus door we had to walk through for every event. Were you supposed to hold his hand to open the door? Should you smile and say "Hi"? It was unsettling. And the best moment of all was when Dina opened the envelope she won as a door prize.

Yes. Yes they did. That alone was worth the whole trip. And now, and a note even further removed from anything previously discussed, I'll share that I've recently been on a new recipe kick and have found myself profoundly impressed with the Pioneer Woman's food blog where she not only posts wonderful recipes but also takes zillions of the most beautiful pictures of the food all through the cooking process. The Pioneer Woman is cool. I kind of want to be the Pioneer Woman. Thus, I took a picture of the celery I was about to use in a stew. Celery isn't supposed to do that, is it?

I Am The Chief, So Everybody Hail Like Crazy

We enjoyed a glorious visit from Nina and Pa this weekend. Things got a little crazy, as they are wont to do when Nina's around.

My playgroup met yesterday at the playground of a local Catholic church, and on my way I noticed a sign listing times to go for confession. I've been thinking about it ever since. To me going to confession sounds like something only done in movies or books, but people go in real life. Apparently.

I'm going to have to chat with my Catholic friends since, for the life of me, I can't figure out what it's supposed to accomplish (unless I'd, say, previously thrown a stink bomb into the little box with the priest in it, then I admit it would be quite appropriate for me to be in attendance). But until I can locate Brooke and Dave's e-mail address, I thought I'd try out some confession here to see if it enlightens me. This is just an experiment and thus I declare that none of this information can be used against me in any form or fashion.

1. I hate women's retreats. There, I've said it. Whew! You know, I DO feel better.

I'm basing this vast judgement of all women's retreats everywhere on my personal experience of having attended, hmmmm, maybe 2 retreats in my whole life, and those many years ago. And if you're reading this and you actually attended one of these conferences with me, please be assured that it wasn't your company that sent me to the dark side. It's the toxic levels of estrogen in the air.

Cutesy gift baskets in the hotel rooms are nice. Bow-bedecked tables laden with books like "Quieting the Demons in My Ovaries" and "Pray Away Your Cellulite" I can deal with. The manicured snipers positioned and ready to take you out if they sense you might not cry while listening to the speaker ... that's when I run away. Maybe you could get a pass if you teared up during the music. I don't know. But I think for it to be considered a truly successful event, clumps of women clutching mascara-laden tissues have to hug each other all the way to the parking lot, promise to hold each other accountable, then make plans to stop by the outlet mall on their way home to shop for Capri pants.

I don't think I'm manly ... am I? I mean, I can chat it up about childbirth and crock pot recipes with the best of them. I love Jane Austin and perfumed lotion and am currently crocheting a baby blanket. The whole thing might benefit from a couple of dudes on the panel - that's all I'm sayin'.

2. I once fixed a cup of tea for Phil and used breast milk instead of cream to see if he'd notice. He didn't.

Nina was determined Elsbeth had to have a turn on a slide. She loved it.

3. For a time while I was in high school, I kept a framed picture of Jonathon Brandis (torn from a magazine) on my desk. I know, your first thought is, "Hey, I did that, too! In THIRD GRADE." Yes, you see, that's why this is a confession and not just a bit of random information about me. Your second thought, "Who the heck is Jonathon Brandis?" I thought he was cute, so sue me. And it wasn't like I was dating a whole lot through high school (and by "a whole lot" I mean "ever"), so the day dreams had to suffice. Aren't y'all glad Phil took pity on me?

Els forgiving Nina for the whole slide incident.

4. I have named my baby fat tummy flap "Kat Von D" after the tattoo artist on the show "LA Ink." I have this compulsion to name everything, I think Kat Von D is a super cool name, and it's nice to imagine the fat flap is something separate from myself. I think Phil is a little disturbed by how often conversation includes her, as in, "Kat Von D is starving and really needs a big bowl of ice cream" or "Kat Von D hates those pants 'cause they pinch her face." He asked the other day how long Kat Von D would be staying with us. I think she was a little hurt.

5. Yesterday I poured myself a glass of milk, then a while later when I went to pour some for Andrew, I couldn't find the carton. This morning I discovered it neatly tucked away inside one of my kitchen cabinets. I'm pretty sure this is the kind of thing people find themselves doing just before they're diagnosed with a bad case of dementia.

6. I currently have a mild-to-moderate crush on Zac Efron. This means that though I do not have a photo of him framed anywhere in the house, I would most certainly make a gigantic fool of myself if I happened upon him in real life. Phil had made big fun of me and cruelly intimated that I could be his mother (which I couldn't ... I don't think), and really I don't think he can talk since he has had a mild-to-moderate crush on Katie Couric for years, and she could totally be his mother.

Cozy with her Pa

7. I once accidentally took a naked picture of Phil and didn't realize it until after I had it developed. It was during our first year of marriage and I was trying to take some daily life photos of us around our first apartment. There was a strategically placed mirror that I hadn't considered .... This was pre-digital, so I actually had to go to CVS and drop the film off, and when I went to pick it up, I was assisted by a girl who had recently begun attending our college group at church. She was very chatty (and smiley) when handing over my pictures and made sure to mention details about several of them as she had done the developing herself. It was quite a moment for me, standing it the kitchen alone sifting through my cute newlywed snapshots when I saw it. I clung to the hope that it wasn't too obvious, that perhaps no one but me would have ever noticed, so I left it out on the counter. My hopes were dashed when Phil got in from class, picked up the print, and said with a horror-tinged voice, "You took a naked picture of me?!"

That's all I've got for now. How cleansing! Gotta go now - Kat Von D has requested some peach cobbler before she hits the sack.