Last Friday night we were all still recovering from the evil stomach flu of 2012 and had been cooped up in the house all day until the late afternoon, when I decided to get us all dressed and outside for a bit. I'm not gonna lie to you, the main reason I initially bothered to drag my sick self out there was so that I could feed the kids their dinner in the grass and then let them STAY in the grass for a while thereafter, thus avoiding having to clean up any post dinner, um, shall we say, fall-out, beyond just a quick shot with the hose.
But once sat in my comfy chair with the warm, golden setting sun on my skin and the fresh air tousling my hair and skirt I felt much better, and was happy I'd made the effort, and happily no one actually lost his or her dinner after all.
That time, anyway.
But Sunday around one-ish, we dropped Bean off at a birthday party and I had the rare privilege of a late lunch date with just my two handsome men. We made as if to celebrate with cocktails, as we thought we'd finally shaken off the gloom and doom of the tummy virus, when after toasting one another, taking our first sips of this delicious peachy white sangria, and setting down our glasses, we were both caught up in one final ridiculously violent tidal wave of vomit streaming out of Peabody's mouth and all over the table in front of him.
However, it has remained the final tidal wave to date. So there's that.
Monday night, Al came home with a spring in his step and a few grocery bags on one arm and announced gleefully that he'd taken Tuesday morning off and was making us all blueberry pancakes and maple sausages for breakfast. Y'all would not have BELIEVED the squealing and jumping up and down that ensued.
The kids were pretty excited, too.
He made ME some strawberry pancakes, and they were THE BOMB. If you've never added fresh strawberries to pancakes (you add them to the cakes while they're cooking, just like you do blueberries), you must try it. Such a delicacy!
(I have to say here that contrary to how it may seem, we do do other things around here besides eat and vomit. I have no photographic proof of this, but you must just trust me.)
On Wednesday, I surprised the kids with a little trip to our neighborhood park for a picnic lunch. It's a bit of a haul down there for people with legs shorter than my arms, not that I walk on my arms but you know what I mean, so I encouraged them to take their Jeep and I walked along behind them. They rode along for the four block trip arguing and bickering like a little old married couple about Peabody's driving.
We had a great picnic and some fun times on the park's very fancy playground and I thought all had been forgotten of the previous squabbles, but you SEE who drove them HOME from the park afterwards, don't you?
Mmmm-hmm. And check out the body language on both of them, too. I giggled all the way home. OLD MARRIED COUPLE.
(Y'all know I had to throw in a SUCKER shot of my baby sleeping. This is what keeps 'em coming back, right here. The sleeping baby pictures. If I'm still blogging in 20 years, you can expect to run across the occasional picture of a 68-year-old Al, dressed up in a blue baby bonnet and a pair of men's size 10 knitted booties, sleeping exactly like this. (Hey, he's already got the hair for it.)
Yesterday we went to one of our FAVORITE places in our home town, our own Tom's Farmer's Market. Tom (also of corn-growing-fame) grows the most amazingly beautiful strawberry plants I've even seen, laden with the freshest, shiniest, ripest, most sweet, succulent, amazing strawberries ever. We picked seven pounds of them in all of fifteen minutes, and probably ate an additional pound (it's perfectly acceptable, they TELL you to feel free to snack while you pick) as we squatted among the plants, exclaiming and proudly showing off our harvest to one another.
My two sweet berries posing proudly with their pick. Would you LOOK at those happy faces? (Another sucker shot.) (See y'all next week, right?)
(I didn't think he was really taking a picture of me.) (Peabody knows more about my iPhone than I do, and that's not an exaggeration.)
I can't even look at this without wanting to RUN into the kitchen and make another plate of it. We came home from Tom's and made a pound cake so we could have fresh strawberry shortcake after dinner.
We're nobody's fools around here. When you have seven pounds of fresh, delectable strawberries to eat up, you make haste with the pound cake and the fresh whipped cream.
We left the pound cake cooling on a wire rack and headed out for the pool, where I quickly and blissfully discovered that poolside is a much happier place as the mother of a 7 and 3 year old than it was as the mother of a 6 and 2 year old. Like, I-didn't-even-have-to-leave-my-chair-once happy. Like, Oh-look-at-that-poor-mom-over-there-with-the-toddler-and-the-preschooler-that-looks-SO-HARD-thank-GOD-that's-not-ME-whew-please-pass-the-Cheez-Its-and-Amen happy. I didn't think I'd ever get to this place poolside again, and here I am. Amen again.
All in all, I'd say summer is treating us just right so far. How about you?
I've linked this post, featuring some of my favorite Instagram photos from the past week, to InstaFriday at Life Rearranged.