A fall rainstorm...

It melted my heart when I found Pop giving Noah a bottle as they watched the rain. So sweet!

Continued...from disaster to cow plops...

What to do? What to do? Does one throw away a shiny, puffy, lop sided cake? Well, what about Sissy's birthday tomorrow? I mean, it does taste kinda chocolate-y... Okay, let me try to do something with this.

#1: Put Gavin to bed. Thanks for your help, little buddy. Love you ;)
#2: Crumble up the cake

#3: Make frosting... oh no! I ran out of powdered sugar! Oh well...nothing a few packets of Splenda can't fix.
#4: Mix frosting and crumbled up cake
#5: Form into balls

#6: Coat with coating chocolate. The end result? Something resembling cow poop- thanks for that visual, Mom

Ta- dah! Cow Plops

What the?

I really enjoy evoking the creative process in my children. I encourage them to participate with me. But sometimes, when you have two children, one must be left unattended so you can ensure the safety of the other. In this particular situation, Gavin and I were baking a Double Chocolate Butter Cake for Aunt Sissy's birthday. We had just measured and poured all of our dry ingredients into a glass bowl, when Noah yelled out from his bedroom (he was supposed to be sleeping). When I returned a mere 45 seconds later, the carnage lay before me...

What you don't see: flour all over the ground, Gavin's step stool, the stove, a dumped out container of salt- which may or may not have landed into our dry ingredients...and a very sweet boy who says, "I finished it Mommy! I am a real good helper!"

What can I say to that???

Until I pull the cake out of the oven... all three pans look like this. Not only is it lop-sided, but really puffy, and really, really shiny. Kinda like patent leather cake. Doesn't sound so tasty, huh? Patent leather heels? Yes. Cake? Not so much...

Clearly I have a condumdrum... To be continued...

The truth about grits...

What they don't tell you in Gone with the Wind: when you wipe your face off after eating grits, the individual grains just rearrange themselves on your face. It is near impossible to remove grits with a washcloth. One has to allow the grits to dry on your face and let them slough off as the morning wears on...

Wrap me up like a burrito!

After bathtime every night, Gavin asks "wrap me up like a burrito! But not a Moe's burrito... those are yucky!"

Something about snails? And puppy dog tails?

What are little boys made of? Gavin caught this critter on his own. Good job!

Baby jorts?

What CEO sporting a mullet thought this was a good idea? "Hey guys, I have a rad idea! Let's make diapers look like jean shorts! And market them in small towns! Rock on! " Yeah, I know, I bought them... but after 2 coupons and a sale, the local CVS practically gave them to me. Might as well rock the look... Noah sported a miniature version of a mullet (a.k.a. "a chullet" or child's mullet) and a nice tight muscle shirt...

A nice little visual reminder that men do engage in this style... I snapped this picture a few years ago waiting for a triathlon in Crystal River.

Let's see those pearly whites!

Not sure if this is Noah showing off those gnawers or if he thinks he is a pirate... Remind me to ask him when he can talk...

How's this for symbolism?

As I was washing dishes, a typical late summer rainstorm popped up. But? What? A rainbow, I noticed, ended ON OUR DRIVEWAY! I have never seen the end of a rainbow... and I have even chased a few with Matt... but the end always seems to elude you. Not this time. I noticed the end of the rainbow and followed it up into the sky. So much can be said about the treasures I have in my life. About happiness. About God. And love. I am not interested in sharing those thoughts, however. Those are mine to ponder at variuos points in my life. I wanted to share the tangible. We had the end of the rainbow in our driveway.

Garden time again...

September = fall garden planting. Today, it was the soil...

No different than rinsing a raw turkey...

My Thanksgiving turkeys are a little smaller, but equally as slippery. And this butterball moves quite a bit more. But there is something about bathing in a kitchen sink to make a house a home. Maybe it is the bay window overlooking the picket fenced front yard. Maybe I can multitask better- he splashes water on the floor- clean sink, clean floor, clean baby. Maybe it is easier to spy on the neighbors.

Raider Football

I am not going to tell you about my high school days. Not going to mention that I attended Santa Fe High School. Nothing will be said that I married my high school sweetheart. Nope. None of that. Instead, we will talk football. High school football. Gavin's first football game. Essentially, this is a "sort-of" guest post by my husband. These are not his words, however. Nope, these are his pictures... I was dis invited to this foray. "No, no, MAMA! This is not for gurls!"

Pop, Daddy, and Gavin went to the first Santa Fe Raider football game. I sent my prized possession along and someone forgot it in the car. (Thanks, dear. I am sure your phone takes pictures just as well...)

Although Pop is a Raider fan, he is way more interested in showing support for Gator football... this choice of T-shirt is thought out.

At various times during the games, the cheerleaders throw out mini footballs. I have NEVER caught a football. Neither has Matt...but Gavin's first game? He gets one. Is it wrong I am a little envious? Nah, no jealousy here... Just want my little boy to have a good time!

More than anything, Gavin loved to copy the cheerleaders' dance moves and stare at the horns in the band. I am not sure if the Raiders won or lost, but Gavin had a great time and even told Pop "thank you for this ball here..."

The dog days of summer

Maybe it is my deep southern roots or maybe I am a reptile. Which ever it is, when the days get so hot an egg can be fried on the road by 8 am, I never want to leave the air conditioning. There is a classic line in To Kill a Mockingbird ("...men's stiff collars wilted by nine in the morning. Ladies bathed before noon, after their three o'clock naps, and by nightfall were like soft teacakes with frostings of sweat and sweet talcum.") parades through my head this time of year.

Another little manta that marches in my head is this: "but when you have little boys..." Is it a justification or an explanation? Who knows. The reality remains if it is raining, cold, or very, very hot, little busy body boys want to be outside.

Pop's woods is the only reprieve if you must be outside during the 'dog days of summer'.

According to Live Oak lore (or basically what Pop says), the 'dog days' means

1. Sores don't heal,

2. Mocking birds don't sing and

3. Snakes can't see

(Not exactly exciting the shopping fever car salesmen want you to feel during all those late summer sales with the same moniker.)

I feel as if I am rambling. Oh well.

Gavin and I spent the morning in a gauzy, shaded woods driving the Gator as Pop fixed a fence post. Gavin experienced his first bout of red bugs. I am sad he didn't inherit my immunity to them. He also experienced his first run in with ticks (and by ticks, I mean seven of them...in the groin...) All-in-all the woods sound fabulous, huh? Come on fall...