cute food good mood


We made cheesy Brazilian bread with tapioca flour and went to the International Grocery, which was really mostly Japanese.  In case you haven't noticed (with all of the Hello Kitty and Totoro and Mario and sushi and karaoke love around here) -- we love Japanese. 


And we got some goodies.


I was the most excited to find a few new lunch making things there -- tiny shape cutters and dividers to separate the food so it doesn't touch. I have been sending Clark little bentos for his preschool lunch. The bentos I make aren't very elaborate, but it seems just cutting his food into cute shapes makes it more palatable and he eats it all up, even the vegetables. It really doesn't take very much more time than making a regular lunch. I'll try to blog more about this soon and take a few photos. Is anyone else doing bento lunches? Anything I should know? I am really just making it up as I go.


And Hal's babylicious crib bedding is on Zulily today. 


I really, really, really love it.  So I thought I'd share.  If you aren't signed up already, here is an invite link from my account. 

This is day three of blog every day for seven days.  It's just one day late.  Of course it is.  Happy weekend.


sorry david ross AKA blog every day for seven days, day two AKA crap from the thrift store number one

I'll bet you thought I quit on the blog every day for seven days thing already, didn't you?  Well, I wouldn't blame you for thinking that.

But I have a story to tell!

Sometimes it seems like the thrift stores WANT me to find the stuff in them.  That sounds crazy.  Maybe God wants me to find it?  Okay, that sounds crazy too.  I just know that sometimes I get this feeling, deep inside, that I have stop off at the Goodwill or the Salvation Army, and when I get in there there is a Perfect Excellent Thing that no one else is dashing toward.  Sometimes I even see it from far away, and my heart starts beating.  The thing I came here for that I didn't know existed until ten seconds ago!  I have to make a move on it before someone else does! THAT LADY is looking TOWARD IT!  The wheels of my cart squeak louder and louder and when I get close enough and that lady is in my way, I kindly say, "excuse me" and then I grab it, tight, and inspect it.  Is it as great as it seemed at first glance? Yes.  Usually the answer is yes.  Great to me, at least.

On Sunday night, I got this weird urge to go to Goodwill. I told Luke I needed a belt, and slipped off, into the evening with the baby and no clue what I was looking for. When I got there, I poked around awhile, then wandered into this:


I knew, immediately, that I loved it. But what would I do with it? I decided that I could should buy it ($1.99!), remove the stitches with the David Ross info (sorry David Ross) and replace them with Hal's birth info.  Of course, I had never ever embroidered anything before.  Not unless you count the strawberry hoop I embroidered and gave to my grandma when I was a little girl, the strawberry hoop with the poorly stitched word "STRAWBERRY" across the top of a poorly stitched picture of a strawberry.  The strawberry hoop she hung in her kitchen and left there, like it was art, for way longer than she needed to, because she was wonderful.  That was my only experience with embroidery.  But I was sure I could do this, how hard could it be?  And besides, it was The Excellent Thing that was waiting for me at Goodwill. I had to take it home.

24 hours of time and about 8 hours of work later, I had successfully removed the stitches that had been sewn in 1953.  I felt guilty about removing them, of course, but I removed them.  And I replaced them with some very uneven, not perfect, kind of shabby stitches.  It was really hard to embroider over where the old letters had been.  I tried to use as many of the original needle holes as possible, which led to me writing things like "At homE" -- not how I would have worded it -- and you can see, for instance, how the last one used to say "Black" rather than "light".  But only if you look closely.  And I plan to look at it almost exclusively from far away. 


Sometimes I think I should do a weekly series of crap I find at the thrift store, but that would be committing to something and I bad at that.  I mean, I almost didn't post day two of my blog every day for seven days thing.  But then I did.  Maybe we will call this post my Crap from the Thrift Store post number one.  Whether or not post number two ever happens. 

I asked Luke for another word for "Crap from the Thrift Store" and he said, "No, I think that's fine.  You're just saying what it is!  Worthless crap from the thrift store that no one else wanted!"  Crap from the Thrift Store it is.


hey let's go, hey let's go

It's been ten days since I last wrote something here.  I hadn't even opened my computer to return emails in the last 24 hours.  I keep trying to read blogs and catch up and catch up and I still feel behind on everything.

Every. Thing.

I think I need to reread this post.  I think past me wrote it for now me.  Having a messy house makes me crazy.  Like CRAZY crazy, not like fun and hilarious cra-zay crazy.  Like, bad crazy.  I'm trying to work past that and I cleaned my house tonight when the kids were asleep but all that means is that I didn't sit down for the first time until after midnight.  So.  There's that.

But anyway!

I want to come say hi to you.  If you read my blog and you have a blog will you leave me a link in the comments?  I will come say hi.   I want to be friends with everyone.  Not commenting on blogs/returning emails stresses me out, like I feel like a jerk and just don't write new things because I haven't even caught up on the old things.  I really do want to come say hi.  I am just always making sandiwiches and taking kids potty and driving to Clark's preschool and making dinner and nursing the baby and making more sandwiches.  We go through a lot of peanut butter.  My mom took me to Costco yesterday for the first time in years.  I bought some great big peanut butter jars.  I also bought a down coat that I like and am excited about and then I realized my new coat is from Costo and wondered if I was supposed to be embarrassed about that part because I'm not.


I am planning on posting something here, whatever it is, every day for the rest of the month.

So leave me a comment with a link to you so I can say hi, okay?  And if you have any questions for me that I could answer in a blog post, leave that too.  I'll try to answer as many as I can and it will help me write more posts!

Hey let's go.




I dream about my grandparents a lot.  Sometimes I am confused, thinking maybe I fixed them and they are back in my life and just fine and sometimes I know it is a dream.  Last night I had a dream that I knew was a dream.  I knew it was a dream because they were sitting on a cloud that looked like a parade float, and when my grandma spoke to me the words sounded like my words and not like hers.  I knew it was me talking to myself.

"Hi, it's really me!" she said.  "There is a brown coat that I want you to have!  I spilled soup on it a few days before I died because I was starting to secretly be sick even though no one knew, and my secret sickness made me spill my soup.  It is in the white laundry hamper in the room that used to be yours and it is the one I wore to your talent show in fifth grade and you will recognize it.  Go to my house and open the hamper and when you find it there you will know that this conversation was real."

And when I told Luke about this dream later I cried a little and he asked me if I kind of wanted to go look in her dirty clothes and I said yes.


Now here is a photo of my grandma, looking like an angel, sitting on a parade float that looks like a cloud.




nice things

I am still trying to wrap my head around just what happened in the comments section on Wednesday.

You guys, you and you and you (and you and you) who emailed Angel Pack about the situation?


Nelly and Stormy from Angel Pack?  Who are giving me a new Angel Pack?


So many of you spoke out on my behalf, so very many many of you that it blew me away.
It feels a little like my birthday, and not because I am getting a present (as amazing and wonderful and fantastic as that as) but because you guys devoted time and energy for me, and wrote emails for me, and cheered with me.  Because you did something nice for me.  And it was all just to see what happened, no promise of anything, just to try, selflessly giving your time and energy to do something nice. You are nice.  Thank you.

He is very cute and very heavy to hold in one arm while I push a grocery cart full of kids with the other arm.
Thank you also for all the nice things you said on Angel Pack's Facebook wall.  If you haven't "liked" them yet, I know they would love the love.


edited to add!


target fail #2


We have three kids and a house and I stay home.  We don't have spare cash, but we have what we need and we need what we have and I am very happy with my life blah blah blah.  One of the two Christmas gifts I received was a rug from Target.  We really needed a larger sized rug in our living room for the kids to play on, and I knew the only way I could ever justify the $180 was to make it my Christmas present, half from Luke, half from his parents.  I got the tan chunky shag rug and was happy with it, but I couldn't get it straight.  I thought maybe I needed a non-slip pad and I kept straightening and straightening until I finally realized that the rug was crooked.  Crooked!  Luke measured it, and it was three inches wider on one side than it was on the other.  Great.  Blah.  So yesterday afternoon we loaded all three kids and my crooked Christmas present rug into our 1998 Explorer and took it back to Target to exchange.  It was fine and customer service was fine and it was a huge hassle but whatever.

Today, all day, I looked for my extremely beloved Angelpack.  You know, my Angelpack? I bought it when Alice was tiny and use it LIKE CRAZY.  I have carried my kids everywhere in this thing, I love it, it is part of my daily routine, it is part of our system of getting by, I need it, I always know where it is.  Except today I didn't.  I searched my tiny and fairly well organized house up and down, at one point even begging Clark to help me.  I had to get a few groceries and had no clue how to take my three kids aged four years and under to the store without it. I finally gave up and went out to the store without it and had to use the big cart.  You know?  The Big Cart?  The one the size of a bus?  I pushed my two kids (who together weigh about 80 pounds) in it while also holding the 15 pound baby in my arms and knocked off some of the store's SALE signs in the process.  (That is not a joke to be funny, I literally knocked signs down and off and also slammed into some things while the kids laughed like maniacs and I cussed in my head. We are fun!)

Around 4pm today I had a bad thought: what if the Angelpack got snagged on my purse and somehow fell out into the Target parking lot when we were exchanging the crooked messed up rug yesterday?  WHAT IF?

I called Target.

"Hi, um, I am afraid something of mine may have fallen out of my car in your parking lot yesterday."


"It's a baby carrier... uh, sling, carrier, thing.  It's brown and has buckles and has flowers on one side?"

"Oh yeah we saw that out in the parking lot yesterday, we didn't know what it was.  I'm sorry."

"Oh, so you have it?"

"No but it was still out there when we were closing up and leaving last night. I don't think anyone brought it in though.  Uh, sorry.  But, I can check."


"No, sorry, it's not out there anymore and we don't have it in here, yeah, I'm sorry."


"Oh, yeah, I'm sorry."

Then I said goodbye and yelled a very very bad word that starts with an F, tears streaming down my face.

That might sound dramatic, but seriously?  My baby carrier was a part of my everyday life for the last two years and I loved it.  The kids call it my "pocket" and it feels like an extension of myself.  I cannot afford to purchase a new one right now.  I have no idea how I am going to get Clark from preschool, walking all three kids in and out of the building,  without it.  I have no idea how to get groceries, get the baby to take a nap when he's feeling fussy, vacuum the house, or start dinner. Truly.  I don't know how to be a mom to three tiny kids without my Angelpack, my pocket, my extra arms.  I don't just use it, I rely on it.

I am mad at myself for letting it fall out of the car when I returned Target's shoddy crooked rug.  More, though, I am mad at Target for their lazy attitude towards their customers.  First I fell on my face in front of their employees without anyone saying a word to me, and now they are lazily ignoring lost items in their parking lot rather than putting them in the lost and found?  They saw it, they knew it was there, they inspected it thoroughly enough to know that they "didn't know what it was", then what?  They threw it back down on the ground, closed up the store, got in their cars and drove home?  Just like, no big deal.  We saw it out there.  We left it out there.  It looked weird and we didn't know what it was.  It obviously belonged to a customer, Target people, it obviously was someone's thing.  Someone's property.  It obviously wasn't supposed to be on the ground in your parking lot all night long.

I guess I hope that the person who has it at least knows what it is and uses it.

Then maybe I will see them out shopping with it someday and happily call them out.


iphone 076




(Sorry for the excessive number of photos. This is just how strong my feelings about the Angelpack are.)


angel troublemaker spaceman clark is FOUR YEARS OLD.

And now I am going to tell you a Clark story that absolutely will not transfer into blog-words or make any impact when I type it out, but I am typing it out anyway.

Yesterday, Alice and I were singing "Jolly Holiday" together in her room, because that is something we do.
For those who are not best friends with Mary Poppins like I am, I will remind you that the lyrics go:
Oh it's a jolly holiday with Mary, Mary makes your heart so light, when the day is gray and ordinary, Mary makes the sun shine bright! Oh happiness is blooming all around her, the daffodils are smiling at the doves!  When Mary holds your hand you feel so grand, your heart starts beating like a big brass band.

(Sidenote:  As a child I did not realize that Bert is in love with Mary.  I just didn't.  I had not yet developed the part of my brain that understood this concept, so I just thought they were close friends with a mysterious past and that he admired her as a human being or witch or whatever it is she is.  But no, his heart is beating like a big brass band.  Got that?  Then there is the verse Mary sings about how he is gentleman and never thinks of pressing his advantage which is basically her saying, dude, I don't love you like that and this is kind of awkward so I will do my Mary Poppins kind-but-firm shtick to shut you down.  ANYWAY.  Back to the story!)

As we were singing, I stopped suddenly.  The baby had grabbed ahold of my hair and was pulling it, hard.  The baby, who is named Harrison but who is called Hal most of the time.  Harrison.  Got that?

So Clark immediately begins singing to fill the silence, to the tune of Jolly Holiday...
"When HARRY holds your HAIR you feel so... grair, ha ha ha ha ha... WHEN HARRY HOLDS YOUR HAIR!"

Okay.  Like I warned, this doesn't like anything written out in words.  I know that.  Except that I also know I never ever in a thousand years would I have thought, "Well, the baby is pulling my mom's hair and his name is Harrison and mom sometimes calls him Harry Potter and Harry rhymes with Mary and I could say that Harry holds your HAIR instead of Mary holds your hand and it would be a funny joke!"
But Clark did.  Clark thought to sing it without missing a beat.  Clark who is his own funny person and not me or Luke or anyone else in the world but Clark.  He isn't just my baby, he is a person.  This kind of crap blows my mind.

Today Clark is four.  Four years ago today, he was born.   Four years ago today, he weighed 6 pounds 14 ounces. Four years ago I didn't know who he was, yet.  Now I know, he is Clark.

Happy birthday to my sweet little angel troublemaker who I could not love more.  We are so glad you are Clark.