The Sun'll Come Out . . . Tomorrow!

It's been a crappy couple of weeks.  Really.  The tantrums have abounded (mostly the kids, but admittedly I've had my fair share), I've put myself in time out more times than I care to count, I've broken things (not on purpose, I promise), frozen things (like my mother's credit card while trying to book her a flight to come and visit) and have generally been in various states of disarray and disgruntlement (good word, right?!?) for the better part of two weeks.  Can anyone hear Annie singing about how the sun will come out tomorrow?!?  I can.  Because things are bound to start looking up. 

Now that I have prefaced with that, let me be clear:  I am totally blessed.   Each night I tucked my three beautiful messes into bed and thanked God that I have them.  Then I crawled into bed beside my always warm husband (wasn't it nice of God to pay attention to the fact that I am always cold and offer a cost-effective solution?!?) and stared at the ceiling of this beautiful house that we are living in and thought about how laughable all these things that were getting under my skin really are.  So, I started clicking.  With the camera.  Things that made me smile, things that made my heart squish, things that cracked me up.  Things to be thankful for.  And this is what I came up with:

The day we were trying to accomplish something in the school room and Leia kept pulling her hat sideways.  As if we could focus with all of those pirate comments just waiting to be spoken and laughed about.  By the way, kids are terrible at pirate accents.

 The adorable little purse I made for my niece.  Finishing projects makes me happy.  No need to think about the fact that this purse was intended as an eighth birthday present and she will be nine this spring . . . whatever.  I hear nine year olds are much more into owl purses anyway.

The morning when Jake complained that I was always taking pictures of the baby.  So I took one of him.  And showed him why I'm always taking pictures of the baby.  I start giggling every time I look at this picture.

 Our Science curriculum.  It's fantastic.  Anything that allows -- no, instructs small boys to "vigorously shake" something for a full six minutes wins a thumbs up in my books.  Look at those crazy-eyes . . . all because he's shaking rocks.  Remember when joy was that simple?  Me neither.

 Would someone get this poor child some toys?!?  She has absolutely NOTHING to play with.

 So my uber-generous in-laws bought my hubby an espresso machine for Christmas a couple of years ago.  The result is that I get beautiful, silky lattes made FOR ME every Saturday morning.  I love it.  True confession:  for two full years I refused to touch the machine, for fear that I would learn how to make my own lattes and the 'made for me' variety would stop coming.  I finally broke down this month and learned how to make a sub-par version and guess what?!?  The Saturday ones are still in play!  As far as he knows, I will never be able to make a latte like he can.  Ever.

The other part of our Saturday ritual.  The boys get to eat crap cereal (Saturday cereal) dry and play video games while we sleep in.  The modern version of Saturday morning cartoons.  Then we get to drink coffee and laugh at their sorry moves when they play Just Dance.  Everybody wins.

All right, so Saturday was a pretty great day, despite the fact that it was preceded by a crappy week.  We'd been graced with an inch of ice overnight, so naturally a jammie day was called for.  I decided to make cinnamon rolls and at some point glanced into the living room.  And realized that the view really didn't get much better.  What was I so irritated about again?  Who knows.

A notable first:  Leia getting into her brothers' toys.  That was one happy child, as she rummaged through the box, sucked on the planks, dumped the box . . . and then blinked and smiled at the boys when they discovered the mess she'd made.  The sweet, sweet knowledge that nobody could expect her to clean it up.

So this one might win the prize for the week.  Chase asks if he can go outside (it's cold, and the yard is one big sheet of ice, but sure, go ahead!  I'm sure every responsible parent would say yes . . .), gets dressed and clumps out the back door.  A few minutes later I walk by the sliding door and see this.  On hearing me laugh, Ben looks out and says, "The boy just isn't right."  This is all very funny until Chase comes in and tells me how much he enjoyed eating ice.  I tell him that I hope he was careful to get ice that Mischief (our dog) hadn't peed on and he is quick to assure me that none of the ice tasted like pee, so that was clearly not a problem.  I heard Ben moaning in the other room.  Something about how Leia had better do something extraordinary, as we probably couldn't count on Chase to support us in our old age.

Really, what could I follow that up with?!?

Until next time . . .

Crystal