Cinco

It’s true, in just a few days Bob and I will be celebrating 5 years of marriage.

My wedding day was perfect and while our marriage isn’t, it’s pretty darn good and I’m lucky to have my man walk with me through each day.

While Bob thinks 5 years isn’t anything to celebrate, I on the other hand think it is something to shout from the rooftops because I know how hard we had to fight for our marriage in those first few years.

No one ever tells you marriage is easy but no one ever tells you how hard it can be either. And, also, no one ever tells you the love you have when you get married has the ability to grow exponentially.

Bob is more than my husband and so much more than I could have ever dreamed of as a little girl, I love him more today than yesterday and, Bob, thanks for sticking around!

Sense

I believe I have been here before.

I mean not at this desk or even in this lifetime but that I have been to earth before as a different human. Some may think I am crazy, which may be an accurate description, but I can say with certainty this soul of mine knows things that it wouldn’t know or shouldn’t know without having experienced it a time or two before.

I also know the human brain is capable of much more than we care to admit. I think this is often best demonstrated by our young children whom have no filter on what would be acceptable and not acceptable in our society.

When I was 16 years old I woke up one morning and told my mother my best friend was going to get in an accident with a van. My mother immediately told me to not say such evil things about my friends. However, I believe it scared her, because like me she believes that people don’t always listen to what they already know.

That evening my best friend got into a horrific accident, surprisingly with a van, totaled her car and clung to her life. When I received the phone call the next day, I threw up. I’ve spent the days since that life changing event ignoring anything that resembled a premonition because that moment scared me half to death.

Flash forward to Saturday night. Kyan and I were playing a made up game of Zerbert’s (Kyan named it after those wet kiss type things you do to kids bellies even though the game is not at all related to those) while waiting for the cookies to cool. The game consists of two oversized oven mitts, one on each player, and then you swing in for a high-five as hard as you can and see how far the mitts go, it’s really quite amusing, I swear. Kyan is getting all excited and asking me who will be attending Aspen’s party, he would ask and I would either confirm or deny their attendance.

He stops, turns to look at me and says definitively that Cracker is coming and heaven is bringing him to play with Brownie.

I got scared, like in that Sixth Sense kind of way, like my kid had just turned to me and said “I see Dead Dogs Mama,” and, in my mind anyway, he did indeed just exclaim that he did see dead dogs.

I did my best not to let my jaw hit the floor while trying to coax more information about our dog that crossed over not too long ago. I got enough information to not want to continue the discussion. My son sees dead dogs, well one dead dog, which may be having a hard time crossing over and leaving the little boy whom loved him dearly.

The (Lamest) Invitation (Ever)

It’s official.

I have now been nominated for the Worst Mommy of the Year Award.

Why, you ask?

I’ve been on the fence about Aspen’s first birthday. Wait, I was on the fence. I’ve since jumped off, oh say about 10 minutes ago.

I went from it’s going to be an extravaganza to no party at all and now I'm back to bring on the balloons and clowns and toddler craziness that will ensue.

So, in an effort to get my nomination revoked I am sending this email to invite all of our nearest and dearest friends and family, begging and pleading (oh, in case you needed to know this is me begging and pleading) with them to come to Aspen’s 1st Birthday Party.

When? 12pm on Saturday August 4th

Where? Our house.

RSVP? Respond via email or call us

Thanks for clearing your collective schedules for Miss Aspen Jean she is going to appreciate it, someday, when she looks at all the pictures surrounded by people who love her.

We hope you can make it!

Kandace

PS: I’ve attached my, and by my I mean Aunt Ali's, favorite invitation I never printed


(I am hoping I wrote it with enough DRAMA to invoke a response. I sent it 7 days before the party!)

Torch

She's a Star

Aspen started walking a while ago but I decided it was time to share the joy. Here she is staring in her first video.

WARNING: If you are at work you may want to turn your volume down because I am a loud mouth but if you listen carefully she even says 'hi' back to me. Sorry the quality is low.



Walking from Kandace and Vimeo.

Catch up

So now that I have had you on the edge of your collective seats for a few weeks I suppose it's time for me to give you the run down on the concrete situation and a few other projects.

The concrete was finished being re-poured on July 2nd. It is not at all what we originally wanted but at some point you just decide something that resembles your original plan is better than the pile of poo the workers originally left you.

Luckily the whole project came in a few hundred dollars above our original budget not a few thousand, although what it cost our friend and what we paid we should have the sexiest stamped concrete patio around BUT instead we have the sexiest aggregate patio around!

Ok so maybe its still not the 'sexiest' but let me tell you its a far cry the heap of poo we originally had. Oh and an added bonus when we go to sell, it's now wheelchair accessible, who knew that this little flub would have grand repercussions?

In other news, we also had the house re-sided, well the back part that looked all trailer park.

Before:

After:

So it's official we have moved out of the trailer and into a real home. Problem is our newest renovations have left our neighbors house looking even worse than before, although I think we may have inspired them because last night he came over to tell us they think they may be doing their own remodel next year. Well at least now our projects have motivated them to get rid of 70% of the garbage they had in their yard. Progress. Plus, the value of a fence seems to be raising with the more projects we complete.

Speaking of completing projects. The list, it never ends. Cross a few things off and add 100 more to the list, it grows exponentially, I swear.

Target...The new Crack

Sundays we tend to fill with the hum drum life we otherwise ignore the other six days of the week. Our family generally tends to chores and some general family time during the day we leave undisturbed by other nuances.

This past Sunday was no different except it was raining which means any outdoor activities are put on hold until the rain subsides but really no different from any other Sunday. Although we live in a suburb of Seattle, we don’t see a lot of rain and generally steer clear of the outdoors when it is raining because we melt in the rain. I swear.

Bob & I decided that it would be a perfect day to get some errands done. We needed a new car seat for Aspen and I needed a rain cover for the jogging stroller since it has been raining here for the better part of two weeks and I’ve taken to a new hobby but more on that later.

With a list like that I told Bob to head straight to Babies R Us. After lunch Bob convinced me there was no need to go ‘all’ the way to Tukwila when Target should have everything we need. Without thinking I agreed. I know Target doesn’t carry the rain cover I needed but in a mommy moment I totally forgot that thus we ended up at Target.

Oh how I love Target. Despite working there for 3 years, I love Target more so now than ever before. Mostly because when you work with the stuff all day long the last thing you want to do is, gasp, to bring that stuff home and surround your non-work life with work product. So now that I don’t work with that stuff all day all I want to do is bring that stuff home and find a place for it.

On our List:
Car Seat
Rain Cover

Almost 1 hour and $86 later we came out with:
5 tee-shirts
6 undershirts
1 pair of underwear
1 pair of jeans
1 pair of Capri’s
1 $1 toy
Outlet covers

Anyone else see a problem?

I mean its one thing to get the stuff you were after and some extras, but to come out with nothing on our list?

If I didn’t know better I’d think they put something in the air to make you buy stuff you don’t need. Like say the undershirts. Although they are awfully handsome on that almost 3 year old boy of mine they are, in fact, totally unnecessary.

Target the new Crack.

Newsletter: Kyan Month 34

Dear Kyan,

Yesterday you turned thirty-four months old. It seems like just yesterday you were still sleeping in the family bed with your father and me while I was combating the last few weeks of pregnancy with your sister. You now sleep by yourself in your big boy bed all night long in real underwear. I know, I love talking about your underwear but I am I really proud of you. You are potty trained. I am so proud I could shout it to the world but I won’t, I’ll just tell everyone on the internet (psst, our secrets are safe there). We still deal with the occasional accident but those accidents are few and far between and usually happen while you are sleeping. Let me tell you, you little soon to be three year old, you were quite easy to train. Once we decided you were ready a treat here and there and poof magic. Your father thinks it was the truck and other numerous bribes but really if you weren’t ready it wouldn’t have happened and I’m glad you made it a breeze. Thank you for that.

This past month we had an opportunity to celebrate the 4th of July; it was your third celebration. I really thought this was going to be your year to help us celebrate but it was not. The neighbors set up a huge slip n slide down their hill with a large pool at the bottom. You enjoyed yourself immensely being the only child under 4 to attempt it. Not only did you attempt it, we couldn’t get you to stop playing. You must have walked up that hill 100 times which is why you pooped out on us at 9 pm but that’s ok it was a school night anyway. This is the part where I get to tell you I did not take one single picture on the 4th of July. Let me rephrase that, I took 2 pictures but they were the ‘before’ pictures of the siding, so sadly the Zimmerman 4th of July 2007 did not exist, in pictures that is. Shame on me.

This month you have shied away from wearing socks. I know its summer and it’s even hit 100 degrees here in Seattle but odd as it may seem you dislike socks. I know this because not one week after getting you new sandals did your father and I (read: your father) forget them while on a trip to Wenatchee and I have been holding out getting you a new pair in hopes of retrieving your old/new pair and in the meantime you have had to wear your regular shoes while refusing to wear socks. Kid your feet smell those shoes are no longer your Sneaks they are your Stinks!
Just yesterday you walked up to me and asked me to read you a book. I was on the telephone and gave you a look that was supposed to mean wait just a minute and I will oblige your desire but instead you opened the book right there on my lap and started reciting the book word for word showing me that I was totally an unnecessary part of your plan.

This past month you have discovered there is meaning in what we allow you to view on the television. Our family has been sick for a month or longer with a head cold that will not quit. During the beginning of this sickness you stayed home with me for 2 days and we watched several ‘shows’ (aka Aunt Ali’s Disney Collection). Finding Nemo stuck out in my head because after watching it you kept telling me that before you go swimming you have to ask your daddy because Nemo didn’t and 'they' got him. At least something good is coming of me letting you watch more ‘shows’. I’m glad you are learning something because without those shows, who knows what you’d be learning, probably that you are Robert Zimmerman, too busy to eat.

Did you know that you told me this weekend at the Reunion your name was Robert Zimmerman? Yes, it is true but I kept reminding you that you go by Kyan and then you’d blankly stare at me like I was speaking French and repeat I am Robert Zimmerman. Silly kid, Nana swears she just told someone your first name was Robert then you decided it was necessary to let the family know you are not just Robert you are in fact Robert Zimmerman. Robert Kyan Zimmerman, I am Kandace Zimmerman, your mother, and I love you!

Love, Mama

powered by THE BEAN

Everyone has some sort of vice. (They do, don’t they?) Maybe I should rephrase that and say I’ve always had a vice. In my former years I sucked my thumb, until I was 12. Stop judging. I kept it an ‘at home’ thing once I started school. Sometime soon after that I discover the bean. I was 13, maybe 14, when my brother brought home his first girlfriend with a job as barista (we called her a coffee girl, barista wasn’t in my vocabulary yet, but her name was Karen). It was then I discovered the joy of coffee. The bean.

My relationship with the bean started innocently enough, I would have a mocha or 2 from the stand once in a while, nothing regular, just a little splurge. Once I started college the bean still was just a splurge and not at all a regular thing. I moved back to Seattle and into my first real apartment the summer between my sophomore and junior year in college, the same summer I met Bob. It was then I realized I might have a problem. One morning, while on my second pot of coffee, I was on the phone with my dad. He commented that I sounded really excited for 8 am on Saturday and I told him it may have something to do with the fact I’m on my second pot. I giggled and continued on about my day thinking nothing of it.

The winter of that same year I decided that the bean had to go. I was done being a slave to the bean. The addiction had crept into my life without my knowledge and that bothered me because, caffeine, like many drugs, is one in which to get the same effect over a long period of time you need more, you become immune and thus the quantity I needed just to make it through my days was too much. My sister warned me that cutting the caffeine out cold turkey was a bad idea but I ignored her. She was right. For two days I dealt with the headache that wouldn’t stop. The withdrawal. After two days I was ok. Luckily for me I heeded my sisters’ advice and started this on a weekend as to not interfere with my studies.

Like many addicts do, I promised I would never touch that poison again, but within six months I had my first taste again, but I promised to not go as far this time. I made that promise to myself in 2000. I’ve since quit and restarted and quit again, telling myself the same thing over and over.

But here’s the thing. I love the bean. It holds me when I need to be held, it picks me up off the floor after a night of no sleep, it kicks me in the rear so I can finish dinner, it’s there when it’s raining and I have no one to talk to on my hour commute. If the bean were a baby I would hold it, strap it in my sling and attachment parent it. That’s love people. And at the same time I hate it! I hate that if I haven’t had a cup by 10 am the headache starts and if I miss my afternoon cup the evening drags.

Mostly I hate that I have two cups of coffee and two diet cokes a day. Yes, that means my daughters diet pretty much consists of vanilla and aspartame with a side of caffeine. I’m pretty surprised my milk isn’t tinted a brown color. Just recently I’ve upped from 1 to 2, both with the bean and the diet coke, and I think Aspen has been adversely affected. She is fitfully sleeping and isn’t eating much when she does eat. (Isn’t suppressed appetite a side effect of caffeine?) I’m going to do the ‘wait and see’ thing here because, first I don’t want quit and second she’s a baby and could be doing this sleeping and eating thing for entirely unrelated reasons. Oh, Aspen please change your sleeping pattern before mommy has to give up the bean! Oh the horror! Quick, someone hold me.

Tortured by Thomas

For months we have been waiting. The day finally arrived for us to go see Thomas. I think I was more excited than anyone else, after all, my child really does not even know Thomas. The anticipation had Kyan super excited. We even drove by Thomas a few times in the days just before our turn. On the ticket it says please arrive 1 hour prior to departure time. Of course, being the rule follower I am, we arrived promptly at 9:30 Sunday morning ready for fun.

What occurred in the following hour was a let down, for me anyways. They had a bounce house; Kyan enjoyed that for maybe 10 minutes. There was a train area where you could play with train sets, um that lasted 3 minutes tops. Oh look, tattoos, or better known in our house ‘tootats’, no line 1.7 minutes. There we are with the better part of an hour ‘waiting’ patiently for our turn for Thomas to take us on a ride.

Don’t get me wrong Kyan was oblivious to all of the non-fun we were having, after all, his best friend was with us and really everything is better (for Kyan) with a side of T.

The ride itself was slow and non-exciting because we live in that town and the scenery doesn’t look any better from inside an old train.

After the ride I was looking forward to some good pictures at least and I think we got some but we also have a new addition to our family, people meet T, Kyan’s long lost brother whom decided he was indeed part of our family and insisted on being in our picture with Thomas.

In all seriousness, Kyan had a blast and Aspen enjoyed herself too!

Open Letter to Boys Underwear Manufacturer

Dear Maker,

Let me start by saying I think you do decent work. The styles, the designs and the characters pretty much rock when it comes to my child’s unmentionables. I think your work has come a long way since I was a kid, however I have a few bones to pick with you.

Why must you insist on making boys briefs with a ‘pocket’? What exactly do you think little boys do with this ‘pocket’? Do you really think this waste of material is necessary? I mean let’s face it, at 2-years-old there is no way any little boy would have the motor skills to use this ‘pocket’ effectively without making my bathroom a complete mess, thus making the ‘pocket’ totally unnecessary and actually making potty time that much harder trying to distract my 2-year-old from this area.

For the love of all things undies, please put the character on the front of the briefs. My child runs around the neighborhood with one cheek sticking out of his underpants because he insists the character is on the front, which means he has to wear them backwards, which really means we have cheeks escaping no matter what. The simple solution would be to get rid of the ‘pocket’ and put the character on the front. After all, who wants Spongebob on their butt? Isn’t the intention of putting the characters on the underwear for the child’s enjoyment? How on earth can my child enjoy the characters when he cannot see them?

I am serious when I say if you need some help, I’m here for you. I can hold your hand while you make this ginormous change to boys underwear. Trust me when I say this, “no one will miss the pocket and boys will be elated when the character can be seen at all times without having the ‘thong’ effect.” I hope these changes can happen soon because my son is getting a little chaffed from the ‘thong’.

Hearts,
Kandace

P.S. I’m a little weary of posting this atrocity on the Internet or else you would have seen dearest Kyan in his briefs.

2.0

Nearly a year after having my second child I feel as though I need to elaborate on expanding my family. The experience has been like no other experience I have ever been through.

While I was pregnant with Aspen I feared, as many parents do, I would not love her as much as my first. Once Aspen was born I realized how wrong my fears had been. My love for her was instantaneous, powerful and not one ounce less than for her brother.

What I hadn’t anticipated was that Aspen would, herself, be a different person. I thought to myself that motherhood 2.0 would itself be easier since I had done it before. I have never been so wrong. I hadn’t even considered that the temperament of my children would be different. As it turns out, my children’s dispositions are neither polar opposites nor the same. Their temperaments fall somewhere in the middle but never totally agreeing on any one thing.

I hadn’t anticipated that I wouldn’t know Aspen like I knew Kyan. I don’t know why it hadn’t occurred to me that I wouldn’t know Aspen like I knew Kyan, after all I had known him for almost 2 years when I gave birth to her. But almost a year after her birth I feel like I know her. I know that she likes to be held, by me, that she dislikes diaper changes, she is independent, she dislikes the car, and she dislikes toys and prefers anything that does not resemble a toy.

In greater reflection I think their dispositions may be closer than I first thought, Aspen’s may just be the feminine version. Aspen prefers to be social with everyone as opposed to Kyan whom is shy around strangers. Aspen prefers to get in and get dirty as opposed to Kyan whom is hesitant and prefers to watch than to engage in such behavior.

This leads me to believe that their temperaments may also be tied to birth order, but upon investigation I would like to think this untrue. Mostly Bob and I find ourselves in a battle trying to raise these two babies of ours. And by battle I simply mean that, as with most parents, we are trying our best not to intentionally mess them up. We try and take what we have learned from our own families and use it to better ours.

In closing, I would say that I love the fact that my children are different, I embrace it with fervor. My life would be less interesting if I had two humans whom responded the same to everything, it keeps things entertaining. In a nutshell my experience over the last year was so much different than I had ever imagined, different in a very good way.

Overachiever

Bob is an overachiever. Just ask him.

"What are you doing, Bob?"
"Working", it's always his answer, even if he is lounging on the new patio.

Being married to him definitely has its perks. For instance, he was able to assemble this play-set by himself in less than 12 hours. He started at 8am and was finished by dinnertime.

More recently, he had a harebrained idea to use the neighbors well to water our lawn dirt in hopes of achieving grass before the kids head to college. This is day 4 of the experiment. Being an overachiever, for him, means if he thinks he can do it he will do it. So yes, every waking minute for the past week, while at home, he has been tinkering with every pump he could get his hands on to get the water to come out with enough pressure to run our sprinklers. Achieving water is no problem, pressure is the issue. Here is tinkering with the well (that mess behind Bob is our neighbors, classy, no?)

Have I ever mentioned Aspen's affinity for dirt?

I mean who doesn't love mud between their toes?

The scene of the accident.
The accident.
The mess.

Bob has finally admitted defeat but not without a valiant effort. Maybe someday my kids will have grass to play on again. In the meantime they have dirt and mud oh and a fabulous play-set! Good times!

Extra Credit

Growing up my father would kiss me goodbye every morning before leaving for work. I was almost always in bed sleeping. He would come in, sit on the edge of my bed, tell me to do my best and remind me that if there were any extra credit assignments I should consider them required and complete them.

“Yeah, yeah. Okay. Bye.” was my response every morning of my childhood, as I nodded in his direction, half awake.

Those words never really sank in during high school. I thought I had more important things in my life than homework, grades and getting into a good school. My mother always reminded me, “It is just as important to be well rounded.” I chose to cling to that phrase more so than my fathers because I could be forgiven in that line of thinking, more so than by my fathers thinking.

It wasn’t until the winter break of my freshman year in college I understood what exactly my father was talking about. During the first semester of my freshman year I did what any 18 year old would do whose parents were 3,000 miles away. I dove into freedom with a case of beer in one hand and fifth of vodka in the other. Grades get sent home during winter break and there was no way I was going to let my parent’s father see just how neglectful of my studies I had been. After pleading with my father for hours he respected my wishes and let me keep those grades to myself.

I knew in that moment I never wanted to feel like that again. More painful than letting my father down was me letting myself down. Knowing I could have done better and tried harder ate at my soul for the whole break. I knew I would do my best from that day forward. I went on to finish college with honors and finally understood that extra credit is just insurance and it feels really good knowing you have done everything in your power to do your best.

As an adult those words have been engraved in my mind. So much so I can actually hear my father speaking those words as if I were 13 again. As my second born nears her first birthday again I am faced with decisions. Decisions where I find myself resorting to an old and mostly wise father, one who would tell me to do MY best and do all of the extra credit.

Maybe this is the part where I fill you readers in on a little secret and fess up to the fact that I breastfed Kyan until he was 26 months old. Only close friends and family have been privy to that information. Somewhere before his first birthday I completely stopped nursing in public and kept that for us in private. Obviously if you do the math this means I nursed both of my children at the same time for a period just longer than 4 months. I consider myself a closet extended breast-feeder and tandem nurser disclosing this information only to people I felt at ease telling. Bob on the other hand would shout it from the rooftops. Seeing as how nursing in general is a “hot” topic I have always avoided the confrontation that comes with extended nursing let alone tandem nursing.

I don’t tell people to nurse and I feel that no one has the right to tell me what to do either. I feel that this leaves me in limbo. It leaves me somewhere in this parenting thing alone treading water just like all parents have done before me. My father and I joke that these baby humans should really be delivered with a handbook and at the very least a button to reset them.

So as Aspen nears her first birthday I choose to do what my father taught me. To do all the extra credit I can, to go beyond what is recommended and stick it out as long as we are both comfortable doing so. For me this is the best I can do.

I like to think all mothers and really people in general do their best. If we all thought this way about other people wouldn’t the world be a happier place? Try, for one day, when someone is making you angry or not doing what you would do, to think that person is doing their best. It is refreshing and very forgiving when you approach the world this way. For me, thinking this way of people is freeing because I can forgive people for not doing things as I would have done them. Humbling.

Catching Up

“Baby needs to uh-huh mama. I’m too big for uh-huh. When baby be my age she’ll be too big too.”

“Yes honey when baby is your age she will be too big to nurse too.”

“When baby be my age, mama, we will be the same age.”

If only life worked that way!

Newsletter: Aspen Month 11

Dear Aspen,

A few days ago you turned eleven months old. Okay it has almost been a week already but what with the holiday and the sickness that has taken us hostage I haven’t found enough energy to get this little letter ready for you. The morning you turned eleven months old was also the morning of the 4th of July you woke up with the nastiest bug your young body has ever experienced. You were a trooper and stayed happy despite the goopy eyes and evil sinus infection. I have included proof of just how gross the nastiest bug can be to a baby.

This month you have freed your inner athlete. You started walking on July 1, 2007. You had a piece of watermelon in one hand and an eager Nana beckoning you from a few feet away and just like you had been doing it your whole life you took off to get some lovin’ from your Nana. As much as I feel that this milestone marks your initiation into toddler-hood and a milestone that should be bittersweet I am really focusing on the positives this newfound freedom will bring both you and me. Unfortunately, for me, this means my floors will not be nearly as clean without your little knees mopping up after us but really it means your clothes will stay cleaner and that is far more important than clean floors.

I have mentioned in previous months your affinity for dirt but I am not sure I have conveyed your equal if not greater affinity for water. Often we allow you to take showers with us because you are in the running for the World’s Dirtiest Child and we don’t like our neighbors and friends to know so we try our best to keep you presentable. While taking showers you hydroplane around on your rear-end by kicking your legs like a frog. You can get from one end to the other before I’ve even had a chance to blink my eyes. This is a remarkable skill, one I’m sure would come in handy if you were a fish but not so much as a human but for all intents and purposes it really is quite entertaining.

For the past six months or so you have been teething which is code for a baby who has been gnawing on everything she can get her mouth on. You are mostly attracted to things that are either hard plastic or paper. If an item has a tag or the like you hone in on it and go in for the attack. I usually allow you to chew on it for a while until pieces come off then I step in and intervene because lord knows what all the other mothers would think of me if I were to allow my child to eat paper or even worse dirt! You now have 7 teeth with a molar almost through as well. Lucky for you this whole teething process seems to be getting easier and I pray that it stays this way.
This month you have also developed a great love for your brother (your best friend, your constant companion) your brother’s toys, for animals, for smiling at everyone in the grocery store, for getting attention anyway you know how, for walking, for babbling to your brother while riding in the car and mostly you have a great love for food.
This past month you have also learned how to open everything which is intended to stay shut, including doors with locks on them, which even your father has a hard time figuring out how to open. With this new found skill also comes fingers getting stuck in those cabinets and drawers and boy does that make you angry. Fingers are no longer safe in my kitchen. It’s funny how easily one can forget this stage. This stage requires a constant watchful eye. If I take my eye off you for one second you immediately head to the patio and proceed to drop glass. This explorer path you are on is a great one although if you don’t let your mama get more sleep it could be a little dangerous but us Zimmerman’s thrive on danger just you remember that.
This new phase we have entered has started to turn you into an independent little creature. One who ventures off all on her own without me in sight. One who enjoys the new slide her father put up all by herself. One who is doing everything she can to keep up with her busy 2.5-year-old brother. While this all brings me so much joy I can’t help but want to scream, slow down. Don’t go so fast.

Love,
Mama

What my Sister refers to as White Trash Cookies

In honor of the upcoming holiday I thought I would share one of our favorite treats we create each July 4th, if I knew the name I would tell you so you wouldn't have to call them White Trash Cookies as well but I don't so make up your own name and they will be a hit at any party.

Ingredients:

1 Box of Ritz Crackers

1 jar of Peanut Butter

6oz of White Chocolate for each roll of Ritz you use. If you use the whole box of Ritz you need 24oz of white chocolate.

Spread a healthy amount of peanut butter between two Ritz crackers and smoosh together like a sandwich. Continue until you have gotten through your stash.

Melt the chocolate. If you use white chocolate chips, use the check it every 30 seconds rule. The chocolate should be melted in less than 1 minute and 30 seconds as long as you are melting no more than say 6 ounces. Trust me people I have burned more chocolate than one should ever waste trying to figure this out.

Once you have some chocolate melted let an entire peanut butter sandwich take a dip in the chocolate. Then grab the cookie and shake to get the excess chocolate and place it on a piece of wax paper to harden. After all cookies are covered in chocolate I proceed to decorate using colored sugar.

Your end result should look something like this:

These Boots were made for Walking...

Over the weekend my sweet baby decided it was time for her to figure out other means of travel besides one that includes licking all the dirt off the floor. With a slice of watermelon clenched in one hand and using the other hand for balance Aspen took off towards Nana. It was quite a show seeing as how most of the family was gathered at our house for pre-Independence day festivities.

Nana yelled at me to take a picture but I couldn't move because my mouth was on the floor. What did that baby of mine just do? After I picked up my mouth off the floor I dashed for the camera to get a silly picture of the 'after' party she had on the floor.

This is Aspen after walking 4 or 5 steps to her Nana. If she was my first baby I would say she is walking but since she isn't I would say walking is a few weeks from now but she sure is stumbling around and so so proud of herself!

And here is a picture of Kyan acting like a baby for good measure!

Rated G

Thought I would leave this little tidbit because I found it very interesting. I think as a parent you could even check website ratings before your kids use them.