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Birthday Party! Part Two: the clown

*Note: All photos taken by Farihah Shah

Oh, and by the by, Happy Canada day to you. Hope you had a nice, relaxing day; spent time with friends, family, ate some good stuff, enjoyed the sun, saw some fireworks maybe. We kept it low-key and enjoyed our quiet patriotism with the Little Dude randomly wishing us "happy Canada" and making up his own version of the National Anthem from time to time. Just the way I like it.

Anyhow, on to more party recap. I know, this is going to take a couple of days. But really, there were so many good pictures and I don't want to make a ridiculous long post with, like, 47 images in it, so I'm going to keep breaking it up over a couple of days. Editing has never been my strong point (she says, making the understatement of the decade) so I think that breaking it down into bite sized bits is going to be the best solution. Also, I've got the first season of the Wallander series out of the library and they are fantastic, so I've been spending a bit of time in the evenings watching those (if you like Sweden, crime drama, or Kenneth Brannagh, I totally recommend it).

So, all I'm going to post today are the pictures of one of the games. Since its summer and we're in a nice hot spell, I decided to do a lot of games with water. One that was a big hit was... The Clown Sponge Toss. Basically, a giant clown cut-out that you throw wetted sponges at. But the best part of it is... ...someone's face is looking out of that clown head and just begging to be hit with a wet sponge! 

Its so funny, we've had this giant clown painted on a piece of board sitting in our garage for, oh, I don't know, at least twenty years? When I was a little girl my dad or someone had this made up for a big fundraiser picnic they were doing for some charity or another. And when all it said and done, what do you do with a seven foot tall pice of wood paneling with a clown painted on it? You save it, that's what. So for years its been in the back of the garage with the camping gear and lawn mower. And when we decided on the country fair theme for the party I'd thought to myself "It'd be nice to have a clown maybe". But I was trying not to go crazy with it all, and sometimes real live party clowns can be creepy/tiresome (no offense to any clowns out there, its me, not you) but then I remembered this thing in the garage and it could not have worked better. The kids went crazy for it, swarming around poor hubs like a brightly coloured preschooler gang bent on his soaking. Their glee was palpable. 

And it wasn't personal. When Grandpapa got it there they were just as excited to hit him (if not more so). Of course, Grandpapa hams it up really well, threatening then not to hit him and then mugging like crazy when they do. They just ate it up. 

See, there is a definite benefit to saving something for a quarter of a century or so. Because you never know when a life sized clown cut out will come in handy.

Birthday Party! Part One: The animals

*Note: All photos taken by Farihah Shah

We made it! We survived the birthday party. We pulled it off and there was enough food and no one was bored and there was hardly any crying and the house has been returned to its not-very-clean-but-manageable state of normalcy and we are pooped! Oh, and we had a really, really good time.

Ok, and now to our exciting coverage of the Little Dude's fourth birthday party. Ahem. I know this is most certainly not as important to all of you as it is to all of us, but even if you don't like birthday parties and are not interested in the minutiae of life with a small child, you might at least like bunnies. Because we had rabbits people. Real, live rabbits! As the theme of our party was Country Fair, I felt that we definitely needed to have some animals. In a perfect world I'd have been able to rent one of those traveling menageries with a handler who comes to your home with a truck full of animal friends; pot bellied pigs and exotic wildfowl and whatnot. Also, if we're dreaming, pony rides would have been nice. But as I repeatedly reminded myself, this is a party for 3 and 4 year olds and also, I'm on a budget. So luckily my Dad knows a guy (really, that should be his slogan) who has a small farm, and we were able to borrow some rabbits and chickens.  And so we could truthfully advertise our REAL LIVE ANIMAL ZOO. (Awesome poster courtesy of Hubs, of course)

There was a mama bunny and, oh, I'm not sure, six or eight babies. And cute! So cute they were. It makes me quite seriously consider getting a little house bunny of my own. 

Before our guests even arrived, we had to introduce them to the Birthday Boy and the Baby. Its tough to say who was more excited. Lookit that Baby, with both pointers out, and I can assure you, squealing to beat the band. 

He had to be, er, wrangled by Grandpapa himself, as he really wanted to get his pokey little baby fingers onto that baby bunny. But we coached and directed and made sure no bunnies got poked or squeezed in a manner that would be injurious to them. 

There you go. Gentle, gentle...

When our party guests arrived, we had quite a crowd there to appreciate the rabbits. Lots of carrots were on offer, though I did have to redirect the Little Dude who decided to share his carrot with the bunny. One nibble for the bunny, one nibble for himself. Hm, probably not the most hygienic idea. 

And of course, as advertised, we had the chickens too. Thought frankly, they can't hold a candle to the bunnies. 

But our expert animal wrangler got one out of the cage so that we could pet it, and have a closer look. 

They were surprisingly soft. 

But you can't really cuddle a full grown chicken like you can a bunny. 

And I'm pretty sure no one ever smiled like this for a chicken. 

Even the littlest baby at the party got to meet the bunnies. 

And at the end of the day, after the party was over, and everything was cleaned up and Hubs and I had had a chance to sit down and breathe, we took the boys outside again and had our own little visit with the animals. And I got to sit and have a nice, long cuddle with this little baby bunny. It was so sweet and calmly sat and my lap and let me scratch its ears. So sweet. There were a million other awesome, amazing, fun things that happened that day (including my baby boy turning four. FOUR! How the heck did that happen!) but that baby bunny was just the perfect cap on a lovely day. 

I'll be back tomorrow with more about the party; games, food, details, etc. 

 

 

berry pickin'

Its that time of year again. Hot days and stormy nights and... no wait, that sounds like a bad romance novel. What I mean to say is that its Strawberry Season. I love picking berries almost as much as I love eating berries. And thanks to my Mom's kind help, I was able to get out to the patch with the two little boys in tow. I was somewhat reluctant to even bother this year, as the Baby is at such a, er, fun stage, what with all the walking and climbing and running and exploring and putting stuff into his mouth. It seemed like berry picking would not be in the cards this year. But my Mom offered to come along and Baby wrangle so that I could pick. Or rather, click, because I mostly took pictures.  Here's Mr. Baby all sunscreened, hatted and bespectacled. I call this his "Woody Allen incognito" look. Also, note that his shirt is still clean. And that he has a leaf in his hands. The reason is that he has not yet figured out that there are berries on those bushes. Or as he calls them "bluh bluh". He was just busily chirping and ripping leaves off plants until I showed him this.

Look Baby, see what's under those leaves.

Nom. aaaaand, he was off and eating. 

And eating.

And eating. Seriously, every other picture I snapped of him features him cramming a berry into his mouth. 

The Little Dude, on the other hand, was Mr. Industrious. He was so happy to have his own little basket and to be picking berries all by himself. (Although as you can see from this picture, his accuracy at determining ripeness was a little off) And he hardly ate any, and when he did he was always keen to share. The first bite would be for him and then GranGran or I were kindly offered the other half. 

And he was so excited to run and show us the "beautiful, djuicy red one" he'd just found before he triumphantly plopped it in his basket. Note the Baby, barely having moved, just chomping his way through whatever he could find, and/or steal from GranGran's basket. It was quite funny, the contrast in their style. 

GranGran really was a hero, managing to keep the Baby under control, harness the Little Dude's enthusiasm and still pick a ton of berries herself. 

I'd forgotton how messy it gets in the berry patch. I'd taken the precaution of putting everyone in dark pants, but that shirt just got obliterated. And you should have seen my Mom's shirt by the time the Baby was done hugging/climbing/getting carried by her. Her wardrobe suffered a great deal of collateral damage.

The Little Dude really did a credible job of picking. We topped up his basket of course, but I can see that next year he's going to be an even better helper. Maybe he'll work his way up to that dream career in farming he's been telling us about lately.

But in the end, even greater than the reward of a basket full of berries or a Grandmother full of praise was a ride in this baby. The girl who was monitoring the fields was driving to and from the berry shed in this fancy souped up little golf cart. And every time she zoomed by, chauffeuring and elderly customer with too many baskets to carry, back to the weigh and pay counter, the Little Dude would be all eyes. He wondered wistfully if every one with full baskets got a ride. So when it was our turn to leave the fields, she was kind enough to give a lady with a couple of babies a lift. Its hard to tell from this picture, but L.D. really was chuffed. 

We had three baskets full when we were all done, and my Mom went the extra mile of having the Little Dude over to her house to play while the Baby napped and I spent my time....

Making jam! I gave myself a break this year and did freezer jam instead of cooked jam. Lots less work, no cooking and less sugar too. Its a win/win. And we had a small chest freezer given to us by a friend of my aunts who was downsizing, so I've got plenty of space to keep it in. I made two batches, which turned out to be three (due to some small, curse-inducing miscalculations. ahem) so its a good thing we have that freezer. Anyhow, the jam literally made the Little Dude jump for joy the first time he had it, which is the best sort of food compliment you can get from a pre-schooler. Warms a mother's heart I tell you. 

 

 

father's day fashions

Today we celebrated Father's Day in all the traditional ways. Sleeping late (for the Daddy, not for the rest of us), deluxe breakfast, presents, family, relaxing, cooking meat outside, eating obscene amounts of food. You know, the usual. Amongst the gifts that we'd assembled for Daddy (and by 'we' I mean 'I') were a couple of cheesy retro sci fi paperbacks that I'd picked up at a garage sale. I kind of meant them as a joke but Hubs set about reading one of them right away. And as the Baby napped and I made a cake, this was the scene upstairs. Everybody happily engrossed in their books. The Vandarian Incident (1981) by Martyn Godfrey for Hubs and Curious George Goes to the Hospital by H.A. Rey for the Little Dude. 

Here's the cake I made while all this nice quiet reading and napping was going on. Another one from Cooking for Isaiah. Good though not outstanding. Nice texture and everything, but I think in the end I'm not crazy about chocolate cake. Not that I don't like it, but I need chocolate to be one element of a cake, not the whole cake experience if you know what I mean. Hence the strawberries. Chocolate is just so intense on its own, I feel like it needs a counterpoint. That being said, I have been sneaking scoops of the leftover icing every time I walk though the kitchen today. And you can hardly count my finger as a counterpoint.

Anyhow, the visual main event of the day was really more along sartorial lines than anything to do with culinary experiences. Because today we busted out the fancy clothes... ...and got the Baby dressed up in his first suit. 

You know, as the mother of boys, you realize there are less 'fancy' dress up options than there are for girls, men's fashion being slightly more reserved than women's and kids clothes being just miniature versions of that. And to be honest, I'm not really out looking for very dressy, dress up options. But long ago, when I was pregnant the first time around, a friend gave us this classy little mini Kenneth Cole Suit. And boy, is it fun to dress a baby up in! Grandpapa had to help him with a little last minute styling. 

So good lookin', the two of them.

I can't help but remember how cute the Little Dude was when he wore this for the first time. Prepare to have your mind blown by how fast time has been flying. Because here is the Little Dude when he was the same age as our Baby is now (15 months approximately). I KNOW! These photos are killing me, because I can see his current, grown up big-boy self peeking out of that pudgy little baby face and it just melting my heart!

Seriously, look at those CHEEKS! And his short little baby curls!

There it is, that same little half-smile with just a smidgen of impishness in it that I see almost every day in my grown up Little Dude. Where did the time go? Sigh. And isn't it interesting to see how different my two little boys look, even though they are clearly brothers? Lots of similarities but they are far from carbon copies. 

Its funny, men's suits have such indellible associations with traditionally male professions that I can't help seeing the Baby when he's dressed up in it, as a little banker or architect....

...or Member of Parliment. "Mr. Speaker, the honourable representative from the Opposition is completely out of order!"

But even in a suit, my Baby still has a softer side. How he LOVES to smell flowers! He cannot walk past even a potted plant without giving it a big stagey sniff. So these roses were just begging to be smelled.

And Grandpapa is doing everything he can to encourage this little blossom lover. 

Lookit' 'im! Somewhere between Mies van der Rohe and Wintston Churchill, only cuter. 

And while we were doing all this flower smelling, two pretty ladies walked by and I just had to take their picture. 
Such a gorgeous day. Hope yours was lovely too!

evening time in the yard

After a long day of house cleaning (ugh) and high temperatures (bleah) and last minute trips to the grocery store for a forgotten ingredient (argh) it was such a pleasure to leave the dishes behind and go and sit out on the front porch and watch my boys play with their beloved GranGran and Grandpapa.  There were flowers to point at.

And hills to run down.

And pine-cones to collect.

And apparently there was a lot of weeding to do. You won't see any other pictures of the Little Dude because a) he won't sit still and b) he was weeding the garden with Grandpapa and did not have time for my picture taking tom-foolery. 

This one however will sit still for just a second. Though as you can see, he's always got something to say.

But if you sit him down in a patch of clover, you might get a few chances at a shot. But only a few because then he's off in search of his favourite thing....

...being picked up....

...by GranGran.



 

campfire

Because why go camping when you don't have to? I'm not really a huge camper. I like beds with real sheets on them. I like toilets that flush. I care for electricity a great deal and I'm not a big fan of bug bites. So camping is not way up there on my list. I know, I know we camped A LOT when I was a little kid and I LOVED it then, but I'll tell you what, camping as a child and camping as a mom are very, very different. I don't even think I need to outline the differences here for you all, I just pretty much have to say one thing: workload. 

So at this point in our lives, when there are still diapers and little people who cannot swim, I'm in no rush to camp. However, there are some really fun aspects of the camping experience that I know the Little Dude will just love, and I did not feel the need to deprive him of any longer. So this past weekend, we did not pack up a tent and trailer and sleeping bags and bear proof coolers and sunscreen and bug spray and drive for several hours and then get everything dirty and drive it all home again and spend three days getting everything clean again (a process usually known as "camping"). But what we did do was have a campfire.

We invited the Grandparents over to help us out, and got a nice fire set up in our back yard. 

Everyone was really interested in the whole process, including the baby (who is already in his p.j's and all ready for bed after he's had a chance to see a little bit of that fire action).

He even chose a special friend out of the firewood pile.

A little "log buddy" just the right size for toting all around the yard with him. Hubs and I could not help but sing "It's lo-og, its lo-og, its big, its heavy, its wood! It's lo-og, its lo-og, its better than bad, its good!" a la Ren and Stimpey.

We soon had our fire up and running.

And the kids were all up and running too! Look at GranGran's awesome baby monitoring technique. Nobody is falling down with a log in their arms on her watch. No sir!

And of course, fire is nice and interesting and all, but the most important reason to have a campfire should be obvious. 

And that reason is MARSHMALLOWS! That's why Hubs was chopping us some nice green sticks in the picture above. So we can roast some marshmallows. 

This was the Little Dude's first experience with marshmallows too, and to say he was enthusiastic about it would be a bit of an understatement. 

Being allowed to poke a stick in the fire is awesome to begin with, but topping that stick with a gooey chunk of sugary goodness... heaven!

Grandpapa has honed his technique down to an art form. Look at those perfectly roasted marshmallows!

It took a little bit on convincing to get the Little Dude to roast his marshmallows before eating them (he really, really liked them plain too), but eventually he was willing to try. 

We turned our backs for a moment and even the Baby managed to get his little paws into the bag and have himself a snack. We only let him have one bite (because really, a baby does not need that much sugar) and then it was time to pack him off to bed. 

As it got darker, we all worked on our roasting methods. Hubs found L.D. a nice pronged stick, so that the long wait for roasted marshmallows was rewarded with twice the treat. 

With a little parental guidance, he was getting the hang of roasting them.

And he needed no help at all with the eating part.

He was a natural when it came to that.

Stickey gooey loveliness.

After eating marshmallows, his second favourite thing was staying up late until it was dark. Because then he got to use the little flashlight. I'm telling you, this kid LOVES flashlights. It was so much fun to whirl it all around and see the light beam slicing through the smoke in the darkened sky above the campfire.

I did a little mucking around with my camera and with a longer shutter speed, got these fun shots. 

Even with the low light and the blurring you can still see he was having the time of his life. Its a wonder we got him to sleep that night at all, after all that fun and all that sugar (the whole bag of marshmallows was gone by the end of the night, though there were eight people to help with the eating). And he did sleep late the next morning, even if only by a half an hour. All in all, it was a very good first campfire experience. 

 

 

chocolate + salt + caramel = cake

Pinterest is good for many things. Not the least of which is fantasizing about clothes you can't afford, houses much nicer than any you'll ever live in, stuff you don't have time to sew and recipes that you're probably never going to make. Now, those first three seem valid for various reasons, but every time I look at my recipe board on pintrest, I feel ever so much more hope. Because I could dangit, I could totally cook that! If I a) weren't so lazy and b) wasn't worried about the health implications of that much butter and sugar. 

But this weekend, I had a special occasion. A very special occasion. A girl's night. I know, I know, that seems fairly, um, suburban and painfully common, but NOT FOR ME PEOPLE. Because I have two kids under four, live at least an hour away from any of my dearest friends, and have less free time than... hunh, I'm looking for a hyperbolic way to say that I don't have any free time that is not hackneyed or insensitive. Nope, I've got nothin'. My point is that free time has gone the way of discretionary income in my life. That is to say, there is not much of it. And I cannot tell you how stoked I was about this girls night. 

The plan was to spend the night at my older sister's house. She who lives almost a couple of hours away. Whom I NEVER get to see unless we are celebrating family birthdays/holidays at which point we never get to talk, unless you count "Have you seen the purple bag with the bathing suits?" as conversation. And since I was going to be at her house overnight and my small children were not, I'd get to sleep for the whole. damn. night. That's right, the only person who would be getting up during the night to use the potty would be ME. Hallelujah.

And the third member of our party would be my University room mate/best friend/hillarious story teller and honorary sister. She of the belly laugh, and the awesome guacamole. The only person who loves home made salad dressing as much as I do. So it was shaping up to be an awesome night. 

We had a very loose plan. There would be dinner. There would be drinking. There would be more eating after that. And we'd talk until we fell asleep. And maybe paint our nails, but only if we were still sober or ran out of things to talk about (so probably not). 

Anyhow, I'd offered to bring Sangria and Dessert. I knew for sure that I'd be using The Pioneer Woman's recipe for Sangria, because it has four kinds of alcohol in it and I appreciate that kind of extravagance. I halved it, (because there were only three of us, and I'm not insane) and swapped the pinapple for strawberries. Though next time I will also throw in plums and peaches because I think that'd be awesome. And you guys, it was really, really good. We called it fruit salad with an alcohol dressing, just to make ourselves feel better. 

But I had to look around for a bit to find out what I'd make for dessert. I have kind of a cake rep to uphold, so I really wanted to knock their socks off. Though really, after a couple of glasses of that Sangria, we'd have happily eaten a Deep and Delicious freezer cake with our hands. But whatever, I still wanted to bake something. And then I saw what I was looking for. Perfection summed up in six words: Salted Caramel Six-Layer Chocolate Cake.

This is actually a Martha Stewart Recipe which does not surprise me at all. That woman knows what she's doing in the cake department. But man, I thought my Lemon Poppy-Seed Charlotte was kind of a lot of work, but compared to this behemoth it looks like a walk in the park. Also, check out the ingredient list. There are 7 and a half cups of sugar in this puppy, when you combine the sugar in the cake, the caramel and the icing. Really, its ridiculous. My hand did waver as I chopped a pound of chocolate for the icing. And added half a pound of butter to the caramel after there were already two cups of cream in there. Yikes. But I had set my hand to the plow and I would not look back. 

And after two days, the cake was ready (made the layers on Friday, made the caramel and icing on Saturday, assembled it at my sister's house). And I have to say, that cake was ridiculously good. Even though I managed to screw it up. The most stressful part of this cake was making the caramel. The directions tell you to combine the 4 cups of sugar, 1/2 cup of corn syrup and 1/2 cup of water, put it in a saucepan over high heat and DO NOT STIR it for 14 minutes, until has turned a deep amber colour. Boy, was it hard not to stir it. High heat, people, how the heck is that not gonna burn? I compromised and set it to 8 instead of 10. And watched it as anxiously as a pot has ever been watched. And pulled it off the heat the second the timer dinged. It appeared to be fine and I added the cream and the butter and let it cool. But when all was said and done and I tasted it, I felt it had the aftertaste of burnt sugar. Hubs assured me it was not so. And I was not about to use another four cups of sugar and two cups of cream and half a pound of butter when I'm told it is fine. But still, next time I'm only giving it ten minutes. 

Anyhow, after our delicous appetizer courtesy of Sara (as seen in the above photos) ... and lovely dinner courtesy of my sister, 

and more Sangria and a good long walk......we hit that cake like a ton of bricks. 

Next time I will cut very small pieces though. 

Because this is one of the richest cakes I've ever eaten. None of us could get through our entire pieces. At least not in one sitting. 

Would you look at that caramel. My sister said it tasted like eating a huge gooey Skor bar. You know, next time I make this cake, I will do it as cupcakes. Because that way it'd be more manageable, and you'd have a chance at least at getting through a whole cupcake. 

My favourite thing about this cake is the fleur de sel that you sprinkle on top. I'd put more on next time. And I'd put it on the sides too. The lovely little melty saltiness in each dense chocolatey bite is really incredible. As my sister put it "Its the icing on the icing on the cake." Indeed.

 

fabric and geekery

The Value Village had its half price sale this week, and my very kind Mom dropped by my house during the middle of her very busy day and fed my kids lunch so I could whip out to the store and check out the sales. I knew I had 15 minutes to get there, and 15 minutes to get back, so that left me with a scant half hour to ransack the place, minus standing-in-line time. So this could be no leisurely wander through the store, leaving no stone unturned, and no shelf unexamined. Oh no, I was a woman on a mission. And that mission was (hopefully) to get Star Wars sheets. I am getting dangerously low, and I need to make more bibs and stuff, so with the possibility of half-priced vintage sci-fi bed linnens hanging tangibly in the air, I headed into the store with great hope. 

Now, it was noon. On half-price day, so I tried not to get my expectations too high as many, many had trod those aisles before me. An early bird I was not. I'd planned my path like this: Household Linnens, Men's Shirts, Toys (not that we need any, but just in case) Baby clothes (ditto) and then a quick look over the housewares for pyrex/mugs/awesomeness and a micro scan of the Jewelry. Oh, and formal dresses, because you never know. 

Toys, Jewelry, and Formal Wear were all a bust, which is fine. Got a few useful but non-photo-worthy items in housewares, (baskets, jars, little glasses for little hands) but as usual, Household Linens and Men's Wear was where I did most of my damage.  Three nice shirts. Love a good plaid, and that peachy coloured one is just the nicest heavy/soft brushed cotton ever. Gonna be so good in a quilt. And there in the middle is a Liberty for Target shirt.  I love Liberty, and its so funny because I actually bought this shirt new from Target when their Liberty line came out. But I got an XS and have plans to alter/wear it, and one day cut it up for quilting. But now I have two, and let me tell you, this one was way cheaper than the other. 

Then I found these nice sheets. I love how well they look together. Could be nice as a summer dress with one for trim. 

Couple of nice heavy weight cotton pillowcases, both stripey and orange. 

And another one of those lovely Irish Linnen tea towels. With a very groovy Saint Fiacre on it. 

I can see why this one never got used. It is really awesome. 

I might just hang it on the wall in my kitchen. It'd work with the nice orange-y wood '70's vibe that's already going on there. 

But all this was nothing compared to what you'll see next. Wait for it....

Oh My Gosh TRANSFORMERS! (it's not quite Star Wars, but really, almost the next best thing. Aside from Doctor Who. I'd kill to get my hands on some Doctor Who sheets). I have such fond Transformer memories from my childhood, most of them via my brother of course, who the actual Transformers in our house belonged to, but I can remember playing with them with him, and his excitement at saving up his money to buy Optimus Prime. 

Though my fond memories did fail me when it came to most of their names. The Little Dude was very 'insestred' in this, naturally. And quized me mercilessly about "what dat guy called? Dat Racecar guy? What his NAME!" etc. At which point I had to tell him I didn't know, and he told me that it was ok, "but we'll hafta look it on the computer." Yes, yes we will. (if you are reading this Uncle Lemur Boy, leave the names in the comments wouldya? It'll save me some time, and I know you can recite them all like it was yesterday)

Aw Yeah, 1987. Now that's what I'm talkin' 'bout. I'm going to show L.D. this picture tomorrow and it is going to blow. his. mind. 
Sadly, there is a fair amount of paint splatter on this old sheet. Honestly. These people must have been Barbarians to use their Transformer sheets as a drop cloth. Sheesh. I shake my head at their ignorance. But still, there is a lot that is useable, and bibs and blankies will be made, I promise you.

And speaking of adorable little geeks, here's what I found L.D. and his Daddy bonding over at bedtime the other day. Apparently three and eleven/twelfths is just the right age to bust out the Star Wars (Where Science Meets Imagination) and start indoctrinating them. 

I cannot tell you how much L.D. enjoyed paging through this book with his Daddy. They just went through pointing at pictures and Hubs telling him about what was there to be seen (space ships, explosions, robots, the harsh climates of inhospitable planets and their theoretical indigenous creatures...) you know, the basics.

It was a lovely moment. But of course, the real fun started the moment the book was closed and the lights turned off. And then, little mister chatterbox started going a mile a minute about all the wonders he'd just seen, and had a hundred questions and suggestions for potential story lines. "And then, and then there could be a HUNDRED Darth Vaders and they could all go for a ride in a big, big truck together and then when they all got out they could get in a space ship and go somewhere and then....."

Twenty minutes of non-stop chatter later, this was looking less and less like a good idea. But finally, he agreed to keep enjoying his thoughts, but not out loud, just in his head, and off he went to have pleasant dreams about a galaxy far, far away....

fern gully picnic

Back in April I posted about L.D's discovery of a magical place in the forest called "Fern Gully". At the time I mentioned it was nice and green, but there weren't many ferns. Well, almost exactly a month later, on the Saturday of this weekend past, we decided to head outside on such a beautiful day for a picnic. We packed a ramshackle lunch of veggies and fruits and crackers and dips and peas and sandwhiches and headed outside. When we were talking over where we'd set ourselves up, or rather, down to eat, L.D. again suggested Fern Gully, so off we went. Though we did have to stop for a second to admire the blossoming trees in our yard. Look at that would you! These blossoming trees are such a limited time offer, and I didn't get out in time to get pictures of the apple blossoms, so I was determined not to miss getting a few shots of this one. I believe this is a flowering crab apple, but I could totally be wrong (I'm telling you, the flowers/gardening gene skips a generation, and my Dad is shaking his head while reading this in complete exasperation that I don't know the kind of tree that this is. Leave it in the comments Dad, if you would be so kind.)

Anyhow, whatever it is, it is just gorgeous, and absolutely full of the sound of buzzing bees who are swarming all over it with such concentration that we don't even worry about them, as they pay us no mind. The Baby was very happy to reach up and touch the branches, and one of his new tricks is 'smelling' flowers with a big stagey "sniiiifff, ahhhhh...." So cute. 

Anyhow, enough dilly dallying and we were off to Fern Gully. So look back at the picture of that early spring Fern Gully, (third photo down in that post) full of green grass and not much else, and then feast your eyes on this. Is that crazy or what? A whole new layer of lovely growth. 

Again, never mind my general ignorance about the specifics of plant life, but I believe these are the kind of ferns that, in this early curled up stage can be eaten as Fiddleheads. I had planned to come out and pick some, but most of them were uncurled, or at least uncurled far enough that it did not seem to make sense to harvest them. 

Its so interesting, they are not spectacular in a colourful flower kind of way, but at the same time Ferns are just so lovely. You can tell why the Arts and Crafts movement was all over them as a motif. There is this lovely arcing symmetry to them. And every angle on them gives you something different. 

Anyhow, after ooohing and aaahing over the ferns, we hunkered down to have a proper picnic. I had my trusty and lovely thrifted picnic blanket along, which is really the perfect thing as it is wool, so nice and thick and you don't feel the damp through it at all. And so pretty in pictures. And then, as you can see, completely spoiling the aesthetic in the background is a large, plastic hunk of kid crap. Namely the wagon. This is where I fail as a blogger, since I cannot seem to master the perfectly styled family picture. In a perfect blogger world, that would be a vintage wooden wagon, and no one would be wearing their very practical, but not at all attractive hats. (Especially Hubs, he knows I hate that white trash camouflage hunters cap. If you can buy it at a store where they sell lawn mower part and ammo, it is officially not a style item) Serioulsy, that is an ugly wagon. But you know why we own it? Because Hubs got it for free. Probably out of someone's trash pile on garbage day. He promised me we'd never use it as a wagon, he was just going to take the wheels off of it to make something else with, but as with so many ugly, plastic albatrosses, it has worked its way into our lives. And though it fails miserably at being attractive, that wagon came in pretty darn handy for our picnic. Not only did it haul the boys and the food and stuff...

...but it also functioned as a high chair/playpen. Though I have cleverly cropped its offending plastic-y-ness out of this photo, it is the thing that kept the Baby happy, eating, contained and out of the adjacent creek all through lunch. 

The piece de resistance of our little lunch was this pint of raspberries. They stayed wrapped up in a tea towel until all peas, carrots, lentils, sandwiches, and yoghurt had been consumed, as I knew that once they appeared on the scene, all other options would be thoroughly rejected. 

And as soon as we busted them out, there was thought of nothing else. 

Yeah, just a little closer....

...oh yeah, that's the stuff!

As you can see, the Little Dude has his favourite raspberry eating technique down pat. We call it a bad case of the raspberry fingers.

The berries went so fast that Hubs had a hold a few back for me, as I was busy taking pictures and almost missed out on my share. And I finally decided to take off the Baby's hat so I could get a better picture of his raspberry eating glee.How 'bout that? That enough glee for you? Though the stylist in me was pissed that as soon as I got rid of the dorky hat, I had an unsightly cowlick to contend with. Though really, there's not much that can mar this baby's cuteness.

Ok, ok, just one more 'baby eating raspberries' shot. Managed to smooth down the hair too. Used the good ole' "mom's hand with a bit of spit" technique. That's better. 

And then we let 'im loose to stomp around in the ferns, and pick up sticks and snails and chirp and squeal and point. 

You may wonder why L.D. is not in these photos. First of all, he rarely stands still enough for a picture, and second of all, why bother with ferns... ...when there is a creek and a boat on a stick to sail in it. And rocks to climb on. And mud to step in. And water skeeters and little fish to throw bits of sandwich to. Who has time for pictures when there is all that to be done?

But after the picnic was cleared away, and the mosquitos were making their presence felt, we decided it was time to head home for naps, and off we went with our ugly wagon full of happy boys, back through the magic doorway of Fern Gully.
 Wishing you all a lovely day today, with at least a little bit of green in it. Go outside if you can. Find a cool place and close your eyes and breathe. If you are in a city, look for the weeds that come through the cracks. There's always a bit of green somewhere. You'll find it if you look.

mother's day

Or rather, the day after Mother's Day, as I mostly blog last thing at night so I know that most of you are reading this the day after I write it. But today was Mother's Day. Sigh. I know I've only been at this mothering thing for about four years, but I figured out awhile ago that Mother's Day is a real rip off. I thought it was going to be a day about mothers, you know, honouring all our hard work, showering us with gifts and thanks. I imagined I'd be shooed off into an easy chair whilst my adoring husband made meals and dealt with potty breaks while I sipped some sort of fruity drink and paged through the latest issue of Vogue. 

Yeah, those of you who have been mothers for awhile now are laughing as you read that. Because YOU know that mothers get SCREWED on Mother's Day (and I'm don't mean that in the good way). It mostly ends up being a day like all the rest, but possibly with more elaborate food prep. (On a related note, read Anne Lamott's Why I Hate Mother's Day. She's one of my favourite authors, and makes some very good points here. Thanks to my girl Sara for passing this one on).

Though to be fair, I cannot complain too much this year. (I wasn't expecting much, so that helps). We all got up in the morning together as usual, with Hubs heading out to the kitchen to start the oatmeal for breakfast. I went and got the Baby for his morning breast feed. And we had a lovely time, relaxing in the big bed for the 10 minutes that it takes him to eat, and then lolling around for another few minutes smiling and laughing and poking each other in the belly buttons. It was sweet. And then when I headed out to the kitchen I was met with flowers and a little present made by Hubs (a stainless steel ring he'd fashioned from a bit of pipe at work. Really, its nicer than is sounds and fits my middle finger perfectly).

Then L.D. and I were off to church, and after that there was a big family get together at my mom's house. But I actually was not there for most of it. I ran off to act in a play; a small informal workshop/community type theatre thing in a town nearby. Which was really nice actually. Its good to put that Theatre degree to work after all those years. And after an afternoon of pretending to be someone else, I returned home to the lovely smells and happy noises of a family having fun at my Mom's house. And the food! Oh, the food. I haven't got words for how good that home cooked deliciousness is, especially when you are not the one that cooked it. So really, my Mom was the mom who got the shortest end of the stick today, as she for sure did the most work. The ribs were to die for, I'm telling you, and I know that food does not get that tasty by accident. 

Anyhow, after a day in the sun with all the fun of cousins and ATV's and then a massive dinner, we packed two VERY tired kids into the car and after some much needed baths they were tucked into bed. Though L.D. did not go so willingly into that good night. Not without a bit of fussing along the way, but it was understandable after so much excitement. (another related side link, read dooce's description of how she knew her daughter was a three year old and laugh. your. ass. off. She so nails it. No one writes about parenting funnier then that)

So, what was my point? Oh yeah, it was mother's day. And though I did not get to sleep in, or lounge around, it was still really lovely. And as I tucked my boys into bed tonight watching sleep lay its soft, sweet mantle over them, it seemed like a pretty good day. 

And then I was poking about on the youtube and I found The. Most. Fantastic. Clip. EVER. And perfect for Mother's day. Behold:

 

This video makes me wish that I was a parent in the 70's. Or rather, it makes me wish I lived on Sesame Street in the 70's. Because then Buffy Sainte Marie could be my neighbour and we could hang out with Big Bird and nurse our babies together. Seriously, how awesome is this! Best line: "and I get to hug him when I do it, see." Awwwwwww! The only thing that makes me sad about this is that it could never, ever be on TV now. People would LOSE THEIR MINDS about a grown woman breast feeding her child on national television these days, much less on a children's show. 

If you liked this you should also check out Buffy Gives Cody a Bath, which is all KINDS of adorable, and has the catchiest little impromptu bathing the baby song you will ever hear. You'll be humming it all day, yup yup. Though I have to say again, this would never make it onto TV now. Because people are crazy now, and think that children seeing naked babies will destroy the very fabric of society. Oh, 70's idealism, where have you gone?