How I'm preparing for my summer vacation

1) Clean house. Because no one wants to come home to a dirty house.
2) Clean stove, microwave, and all those nooks and crannies of the counter. Well, I don't clean that much, so if I was already cleaning...
3) Buy various necessities for trip.
4) Buy a bunch of new makeup while purchasing said necessities. Even though it's not a necessity, and in fact is probably not something I will even want to wear when hiking/swimming/relaxing. But I'm going on vacation!
5) Buy hiking pants.
6) Buy lots of other new clothes to go with hiking pants.
7) Realize that nothing makes hiking pants look cute, but keep new clothes anyway. I'm going on vacation!
8) Prep kids for their "vacation." Panic a little when K responds firmly, "Me. Cry." Buy a couple extra movies to keep them happy.
9) Begin having extra scoops of ice cream at night. We all know I'm going to gain weight anyway.
10) Pick garden. Give garden a very firm talking to about its rate of production. Remind it to be kind to the people taking care of it. Tell the corn not to ripen while we're away (which is a bluff, since we all know I have no idea when to pick corn anyway).
11) Obsess about how much DEET I'm bringing. Resist urge to buy more DEET because it's not like I'm going to a third world country.
12) Panic again when I realize I have no idea if the country I'm going to is in fact a third world country or not.
13) Log on to the internet, and learn not only what level of the world the country is, but also that it feels like 104F at 7:30pm.
14) Return all clothes. Buy another bathing suit, one of those clever misting fans, and a gallon of sunscreen.
15) Realize that the extra scoops of ice cream might have been a little premature.
16) Buy a larger cover-up, and two more tubs of ice cream. Because I'm going on vacation!

Seriously, can you tell I'm excited? And a little frenetic? If I thought I needed the vacation before this week, I most certainly need it now. And it's not even vacation time yet. But closer!

Dear Garden, again

I feel compelled to remind you, dear Garden, that it is not even June yet. I should not be pulling out two bags of green beans. I should not be picking tomatoes. I should not already be overwhelmed by your overzealous production of produce. This meltdown should wait another month, at least.

While we're at it, what exactly are you producing over in the corner? You know the corner--the one with the squash of various size and shapes which were not planted by us and do not resemble any squash that we planted in the past. And what kinds of tomatoes are those? And the melon--cantaloupe, maybe?

Did you not notice that we purposefully planted broccoli, tomatoes, corn, carrots, and beans? There was plenty of work to be done. You did not need to take it upon yourself to make more plants. Really. While we appreciate your bounty, we are frightened. Could we focus on the task at hand? SLOWLY?

Or maybe you could talk the bean tendrils into constructing hands and picking produce themselves. You do always seem to be up for a challenge.

Sincerely,
The lady with the trowel

Sibling Therapy

K: (coughs) Wake up. Cough. Night.

M: Then don't cough at night. I don't cough at night. You don't need to cough at night. Then you won't wake up.

Thanks, Dr. Phil. If only things were that simple.

Gum-tastic

You mean you're not dying of curiosity to see how the little gum paste people came out? Well, you're gonna see it anyway. Because I didn't spend three solid days making them to have them forgotten that easily.

Remember, this was accomplished with only toothpicks, fingers, and a whole lot of gum-ption.

(From left to right: Baby, Wendy, Dora, K, Elmo, and Cat)

I think it turned out fantastic, and so did K. Who, by the way, does have a name that was once nicely pronounced on the cake. Turns out that I can also edit pictures, too. Imagine my shock! Not that revealing K's name would be disastrous, but talk about spoiling all my mysterious fun.

Happy Birthday, Baby K

Who is really, in all honesty, not much of a baby anymore, but a running, jumping, talking, sassing bundle of frenetic energy, sweet smiles, and (not-so-occasional) willful tantrums. But in my eyes, you are still my baby girl. I still remember your tiny fist wrapped instinctively around mine, the feel of your fuzzy head when I was finally allowed to touch you in the NICU, the heavy weight of your sleeping body on my shoulder.

I still get glimpses of this baby as you hold my hand, curl against me, or reach your arms up for a hug. I marvel at the way these details seem to have expanded and morphed into the toddler you have become. I wonder how they will expand and morph further as time passes, if I will always be able to imagine peeling back the layers to see the spot where we once began.

Happy birthday, K. I love you, as always, for everything you were, are, and ever will be.

By gum, I think I'll do it

K's birthday arrives in five days. Between now and then, I will finish making a handful of small gum paste people for her birthday cake. I know this because every time she sees the various people parts, she begins calling them by name: "Wendy! Elmo! Baby! Dora! Bob work." (That's right, everyone, Bob's at work. Because I had to draw the line somewhere.) Her excitement is enough to keep me going.

However, it doesn't really do anything about the fact that I know nothing about gum paste, have never worked with gum paste (or anything like it) before, and that my only tools are an exactoknife (stolen from my scrapbooking kit) and a box of toothpicks. But I didn't know how to sew when I made Baby, and now she's on a cake. What do they say about lightning striking twice? Wait, I don't think I want to know...

You nailed me

There is nothing worse than hurting your child. Like, say, cutting a fingernail a bit too short so that it's a little red and painful. There is certainly nothing worse than that.

Except having your child remind you that you hurt them every five minutes. For the rest of the day. And the two days that follow.

"I know, I am very sorry that I cut your fingernail so short."
"Why yes, I did apologize. Repeatedly."
"Yes, I am, again, sorry that your finger hurts."

Now please excuse me while I melt down my nail clipper into something more useful, like a paperweight or an icepick.