Too Much Pig. (But Really, Not Enough.)

It seems I've finally reached my limit. The cheesecake is gone. So is the croquembouche. And the bouche de noel. I've porked out on fondue. And pancakes with cinnamon syrup. And berries. And hazelnut chocolates. And sausage. Bacon. And ham.

And then more sausage.

(Can you ever have enough pig?)

Tonight, after snacking on fresh Finnish bread, Martinelli's, and more bits of ham (i heart pig!) we thought maybe, between snitches of chocolate here and toffee there, we could just call it a night.

Then Mitchell walked in.

And sighed.

"I'm hungry," he said. "I'm ready for a feast."

Matt rolled his eyes and looked like he might hurl. But not me. I completely understood. Mitchell and I are one in the same, always on the prowl for a good feast.

I know I've been slacking on the old blog. I want to blog. I'm just too full. Turns out the most effort I can give right now is to curl up with some pig in one hand and my new book (see above photo) in the other.

That's right. I'm living the dream.

(Wait. That's not your dream?)

See you in a few.

G

Getting Ready.

Harvesting Pumpkins.

The other night, my husband and I sat on the couch, contemplating our life. Our home. Our future. It had a been a long week. He'd worked a lot. We'd all been sick. I'd discovered a SWAT team outside of my garage, arresting my drug dealing neighbor, and, after crunching numbers all night long, he'd discovered we won't be able to sell this house until 2025.

It wasn't the best of nights.

He must have read my thoughts, because he grabbed my knee and said, "Just think. If we'd never bought this house, we never would have met Mary Sue."

I perked up. He was right. Absolutely. Even with our rotting roof, our crummy plumbing, our questionable cul-de-sac and the sinking value of this house, I still would have moved here just to meet Mary Sue.

(You can read about Mary Sue here.)

My kids love Mary Sue. What's not to love? She's beautiful. And happy. And she acts like seeing my kids is the best part of her day. Mitchell loves to mooch treats off her. (She always has them.) Paige takes off her shoes and spreads out on her couch, like it's her own. Jane thinks Mary Sue, and her dog Kirby, are her best friends. And when Megan performed some violin pieces for her, Mary Sue instantly started to cry with love for my daughter.

And, instead of calling me by name, she always addresses me as "sweet friend."

Now. Who wouldn't want a friend like that.

So today we waltzed over early in the morning to help harvest her pumpkins. (When I announced her invitation to come over and help with the pumpkins, the kids all cheered like it was Christmas!)

She greeted us outside, cheerful as always, with Kirby in tow. And for the next hour and a half, she spoiled us with hot wassail, cookies, and wonderful stories. (I especially loved hearing about all of those sparkly ornaments.) She let the kids pick her pumpkins, smell her french lavender and even taught them to use a nutcracker.

I could see the kids were in heaven. We all were! Isn't it nice to feel loved!

So maybe my neighbor just got hauled off to prison. And maybe we're stuck in this house for the next fifteen years.

But at least we've got Mary Sue, and her fancy French pumpkins, to make it worth our while!

Tonight Jane walked in and sighed. "Mom, remember Mary Sue's house?"

"Yes," I replied.

She smiled. "I want to do that again."

Thank you MSK for such a lovely morning. Thank you for giving my kids such a sense of home away from home. And thank you for always sharing your contagious smile. (And Paige has literally been playing with those magnet dolls ALL DAY!!!) We love you!

Better.

Saturday our house was buzzing with activity. My husband spent the entire day playing handyman. Which I love. Because he doesn't shave on days like that. And he wears manly gloves. And he uses a saw. And...

Where was I?

Oh. The tree. Outside. Now it's gone. Which is good. Because it was dead. And infested with termites. (Not to mention wasps.)

But this post isn't about that tree.

(Or my manly boyfriend out there with the 5:00 shadow and the macho gloves.)

This post is about Jane.

Amidst all the chaos of tree chopping and floor mopping and toilet scrubbing and window wiping and mid-bedroom-cleanup-meltdowns, sat Jane, unaware, and content, at the kitchen table, eating sliced apples.

She munched, quietly, lost in oblivion.

"Mom?" she asked, a half-eaten slice in her hand, "After we're done with jobs today, can we go to the land of the Eiffel Tower?"

(Now that is my kind of Saturday!)

Having a two year old is such a gift. She keeps it real. Gives me perspective. And reminds me daily how to laugh. How to look at life. And how to slow down.

It seems my life is stuck on fast forward. I feel like I'm constantly running to catch up and trying desperately, but unsuccessfully, to slow it down. How is Christmas five days away? How is that laundry basket already full? How is my gas tank already empty? How is my niece getting her driving permit? How is it already Monday, when it was just barely Friday? And how is Mitchell five? (Is he really? Five? Really? Already?)

But Jane doesn't care about the laundry. Or the dead tree. Or the to-do list that's longer than Santa's. She just cares about the good stuff. The important stuff. The stuff that actually matters. Like the teddy bear that plays Christmas carols on top of our piano. Or the train that puffs around the tree. She cares about sitting on my lap and reading books. She cares about painting her "paint nails" blue. She cares about looking for purple flowers. She cares about having tea parties on her blanket and telling each other stories. She cares about kisses. And hugs. And, mostly, band-aids. She cares about her flashlight. And her glass slippers. And her "talking baby". And she cares, a lot, about Santa. And his reindeer. And that mystery package under the tree.

And thank goodness she does.

Because it sure makes life better.

She makes life better.

Waking Up To Gingerbread.

Hallelujah.

School is finally out!

No more 6:15 a.m!

Well, except for today. Because even though there was no school, there was gingerbread to be baked for our early morning party. And despite a night of no rest, I was happy to wake up to a chore like baking! Especially when it makes my house smell like Christmas. So cozy. And warm. And spicy. With snowflakes and cranberries and pine trees and jingle bells.

(Fine. There are no snowflakes. A girl can dream, okay?)

And especially when I see my girls giggling with friends, with whip cream mustaches and frosting-ed noses.

Gingerbread for breakfast. Hot chocolate for lunch. Kind of a perfect day, don't you think?

Me too.

Just Two More...

I know. I said I probably wouldn't ever post video on my blog again. But here's the deal. My mom, and my sisters, live far away. And I just have to share my kids with them. Which means you'll have to suffer through two more videos this morning.

But don't worry. There are no more recitals for another six months.

And if it makes you feel any better, I can promise you that what you are about to see, a five year old boy in baggy corduroy pants tucking his arm across his waist to bow like a pro, might just be the cutest thing you've ever seen.

At least it will make you smile. That's pretty good for a Monday morning!

Megan was as nervous as she's ever been to play this piece before the crowd. She said she felt like her whole body was shaking and that she had butterflies in her tummy. But she stood there in true Megan form, serious face and concentrated eyes, and did a great job! Once it was over, she was flying on a serious high. So happy. And excited.

The best part of the whole night was when Megan came back to her seat after playing. Someone had been anxiously awaiting her return. A certain hazel-eyed brother who was bursting with pride over his big sister (and himself). He jumped on her and hugged her. And kissed her. And hugged her. And kissed her. And hugged her. And kissed her. Over. And over. And over. And over.

He was so proud of her.

Matt and I seriously melted.

And there you go. No more videos till May!

Happy Monday!

Sticky Fingers, Caving Roofs and Lots of Sneaky Snitches.