Perfect Timing

Today, I packed three squirming, yammering kids up in my car and strolled on down to the beach for the first time since we moved here five years ago.

I know, I know but look, the only thing less appealing than spending the day amongst other people's children is the fear of finding your place or any place be it a parking spot or a lounging out spot amid throngs of people. I mean how hard is to say excuse me or I'm sorry?? Ugh, but that's a rant for another time. The fact of the matter is the only reason we ended up at the beach today is because p&p's school gave them free passes for the Tybee Science Museum and I promised I would take them.

I should amend my first paragraph. It wasn't a stroll. It was more like a steaming trip along the highway in my sweltering heatbox of an air condition-less car. The poor baby was sweating up a storm, a little frown puckering his eyebrows. Pinky's wispy little curls were plastered to her face and pete was thisclose to hanging his head out of the window like an old hound dog on a road trip. I was beginning to regret leaving the house without stopping at the gas station for my usual bazillion ounce vanilla Fanta when wouldn't you know it but the perfect song came on the radio.

How does that work, I wonder? How are there just certain songs in this world that just make you feel instantly cooler?

I swear I could even feel a deliciously cool breeze on my face.

Thank you, Otis.

A new endeavor

I've decided to try something new and likely mundane and boring but before we get to that, let's discuss the 4th. Did you enjoy yours? Aside from some majorly sore legs thanks to the city's dumbass idea to stop bus service before the end of the fireworks, the kiddie means and I had a faboo time. Unforch for mr man, he was forced to work. Boo.

So what exactly did we do? We had a picnic dinner of course. The grilled chicken skewers with balsamic glaze recipe I tried from my last All You magazine was underwhelming. It didn't suck but I could have used my standard marinade of teriyaki sauce, soy sauce, garlic, and ginger with more satisfying results. But that's okay because, dude, can we take a moment to discuss broccoli slaw??

My MIL introduced me to this awesomeness over Easter week and let me tell you, this chick is HOOKED! Yes, yes, some people are offended by the mere presence of mayo but we call those people fun suckers. Just take a cup of mayo (shaddup), a couple tbsp of sugar, and a couple more tbsp of vinegar, mix it up, and then toss it with a bag of shredded broccoli, carrots, a big handful of craisins, and a couple strips of crumbled bacon. I tell you, this stuff is like crack. CRACK I TELL YOU!!!! If you don't have a husband who balks at the idea of "nuts in his mouth" because he's forever twelve, you can feel free to add a sprinkling of slivered almonds or sunflower seeds.

After dinner, we power walked it down to River Street for the fireworks. In hindsight, it would have been a better idea to pick out our spot on the waterfront and eat down there while waiting for dark. But a good time was had by all, except for the fifteen minutes between when pudding's hunger pains started up and we were able to find a place to sit down.

So what's this new, rather boring pursuit I will be adding to my blogging repertoire?

Well, it seems the world believes that broke folks cannot eat decent food on a budget. Apparently, we are regulated to Micky D's on the regular and thus, it's up to someone, anyone to swoop in and save us from Hamburger Helper Hell. First off, I like hamburger helper so all you haters can hush it. Actually, that's beside the point. The point is that with the exception of urban areas and/or people without access to any sort of transportation, broke folks can eat decently. What I will concede, however is that is does take some foresight, time, and energy to do so. And so I've decided to add meal planning to my blogging.

I am a housewife after all.

Not only will I be sharing recipes and menus, I'll be posting about my grocery budget, sharing my successes and failures. My goal is to feed us for about $150 a week, probably $200 when you add in non-food grocery items like dishwashing detergent and paper towels. So stay tuned for more details.

Until then, wanna see more holiday pics? I know my mommy does. Please ignore the fact that I look like a knocked up Jessica Simpson at the county fair if you please. I had a choice between cute but sweltering and freedom loving schlump and I chose the later.

Look at Pudding, trying to sit up like a big boy!

Let freedom ring indeed.

A little brotherly love

What's more American than red, white, and blue shortcake?
Marvel superheros, that's what.

Live long and prosper, America

Fiddles!

My kids ought to be grateful I love them. Even though it was hot as bacon grease and I was feeling equally salty after dragging dirty clothes back and forth to the laundry, I dragged my behind down to the local library as promised and willingly sat among squealing small children for some story time brought to us by Fiddlin' Dan, the Mountain Man. As an aside,And for some reason, everytime I read the phrase Fiddlin' Dan my mind says, "Lieutenant Dan, I got yer ice creaaaaaam!"

I'm not going to lie and tell you it was the most entertaining experience of my life, particularly given that I saw Daniel Tosh perform live just a few months ago, but for the setting, it was actually pretty cool. Fiddlin' Dan is really great with kids. He even took note of what a handsome, strapping little man my favorite bowl of pudding is. Yes, I can be won over with flattery. Ain't no shame in that.

And my, wasn't he handsome and strapping in his little striped onesie? He was also rather enthralled with Fiddlin' Dan's talent for playing the spoons as evidenced by his rapt attention.

Of course pinky wanted in on the baby holding action and on the rapt attention action. It seems the girl behind pinky was less than thrilled with Fiddlin' Dan but the reality is poor girl was too busy giving a hearty dose of the side eye to the three hot mess little boys she hissed at for the majority of the time we were there.

And here's another shot of my youngest because my mama reads my blog and grandmas can never get enough pictures of their grandbabies.

This is his "did-someone-say-food" face.

And since I mentioned the successful, rain free laundry mission, now I can show you my latest completed sewing project, the Happy Animals t-shirt and the Bubble Stripe shorts both patterns from the Summer 2011 issue of Ottobre Design.

I really love how this turned out. I used interlock jersey from Joann's for both pieces. The top is a hunter green solid with lime green top stitching while the shorts are a split pea soup and green bean stripe. The embroidery is a design from this book which just might be my favorite embroidery book evah! ( And pick a chick, she's got another one! I'll just be adding that to my card now.)

And isn't this just the sweetest little lederhosen wearing kid in the world?

Next time, I'm gonna use a lighter brown color for the little dude's hair and eyelashes. Lord knows I don't want it looking like I dressed my kid in blackface. I think pudding might faint dead away from embarrassment.

How's that for pictures, grandma?

Other people's children

This is the price that comes with entertaining your children. Inevitably, you come in contact with other people's children. Or rather, other people's parenting. After all, what do kids know but their nature and how they've been taught to express their natures?

For instance, if no one told you that during VBS you should sit with your group or with your parents and not run around the fellowship hall like a crazy person, would you know?

But amid the tears, throwdowns, temper tantrums, and attitudes, so far, the third week of summer is progressing nicely. Pete wasn't thrilled with the delay of his $1 summer movie today due to camp counselors waiting until the last minute to escort their long, meandering lines of 10 year olds to the bathroom. But pinky, ever the perky one was simply delighted to be allowed out in public.

Pudding, ever the mellow trooper, took the interruption of his nap in stride. Just look at those tired eyes.

We went to see Legends of the Guardians. To be frank, it wasn't a great movie. In fact, I'm pretty sure Zack Snyder must have been high when he agreed to pretty much make Lord of the Rings with owls. And no, that's not at cool as it sounds. However, it wasn't as awful as it could have been either. The owls were pretty, the story wasn't cloying, and there was plenty of action to keep the kids engaged.

What there was, however, was one very douchey brother owl named Clyde (or something.) You see, Clyde even before the mean old owls came a kidnapping, had a touch of the green eyed monster. His brother Soren, you see, took to their father's storytelling and flying lessons with all the overeager excitement characteristic of these movies. Instead of taking tips from little Soren, Clyde's sullen ass gets, well, more sullen. Eventually, he shoves Soren off a branch and takes himself out of the process which leads to both being kidnapped and Helen Mirren waxing poetic about some kind of new world order.

Soren defends some little owl he just met and earns Helen Mirren's wrath. He calls out to Clyde for help and old Clyde behaves like Helen Mirren has beaten him into submission and fronts like he doesn't recognize Soren. I've never seen an animated character develop Stockholm syndrome so quickly. Later, after Soren has been sent to pick up bits of upchucked mouse bones (uhm eww), Clyde tries to ingratiate himself to Helen Mirren by offering up his and Soren's baby sister, tucked safe away back at their little hollow.

I wish I could tell you what happened next but pudding had enough of all this sitting business and demanded I walk him around in the theater hallway. (Or maybe he just wanted to see why so many kids were constantly leaving and returning. No one has to pee that often, I assure you.)

All you need to know is that for being a royal jerk to his brother and willingly handing over his sister to be moonblinked (don't ask) Clyde earned himself a fiery death . . . maybe. God bless children's movies and their unwillingness to let anyone die for certain. In the end, Soren's mother and father gather around to gush over their pride in little Soren and his can do attitude. And to pretty much forget about their dead, useless other son.

And so it goes, the old world is restored to order in a mere 112 minutes and I am liberated from captivity among a theater full of talking children.

I felt like William Wallace as his innards were being torn out by the executioner, in agony but grateful it was coming to an end. I wonder if the last thing William heard as he was leaving was the hot mess temper tantrum of an 8 year old screaming for his mommy like he'd just watched her throat being slit.

Something to think about.

Tuesday, we're going to see Hop. Russell Brand better bring it.