In The Interest Of Saving Lives

Dear Children,
If I die, please take time once each year to go through your father's belongings (being sure to check in all of his closets, shoe boxes and suitcases) and throw out or give away anything that he hasn't noticed in the past 365 days. Truly, this will save you all from sure suffocation when his hoarding in way back spaces causes the walls to cave in.
All my love,
Mom

Royalty

At dinner tonight the waitress said to Marta, "Aren't you cute?!?" And Marta said, "My daddy's a prince."

Trevor Time

A couple of days ago I opened a box of organic tomato bisque for the girls and me for lunch. Afterwards, I put the remaining soup, still in its box, in the refrigerator. 

The next day, Trevor hung out with the girls while I took the computer to a coffee shop to get some work done. I came home and he said, "That soup was really good. I had it for lunch." I was pleased because he's not always such a willing participant in my enforcement of almost entirely organic eating. (He likes to eat junk, made from junk dye #49 and junks fats and junk fructose junk syrup.)

Later that evening I took the soup out of the fridge, thinking I'd finish it off at dinner time, since the girls were eating grilled cheese and I wasn't planning on cooking. Trevor saw me and said, "Did you add cream to that soup? Mine was darker." And I said "No, straight from the box."

And Trevor said, "Oh, I got mine from the bowl."

And I said, "Well, then yours was darker because you ate straight tomato paste."

And Trevor said, snottily, "WELL, it was pretty GOOD."

As If Vegas Is Such A Fun Place To Celebrate A Birthday....

Coincidentally, Trevor's International Builder's Show trip fell smack dab on his 31st birthday, which is today. So he's been in Vegas all week, and, poor thing, has to celebrate his birthday there. 

Also coincidentally, I HAVE BEEN TOLD, some of his buddies are in Vegas this week. It looks much more deceptive than I think it really is as I type this. Whatever the situation, they're there together. 

Geesh, wonder if he'll find anything to do.

But just in case he happens to read the family blog, because it's his birthday and he's feeling homesick (go with me on this), he should know that we miss him and are celebrating this day of his birth all the way back home. His girls are a little lost without him; any time Marta wakes she calls for him, whenever they see his picture or hear his voice on one of the home videos we've been playing they both get wistful. Berit is planning all the fun they'll have once he's home. I, by the way, miss my buddy. 

So, in short, we can't wait to see him in-the-flesh and hear about his tame, mild, ever-so-boring business trip, and shower him with happy birthday kisses.

Let's Get The Party Started

When I was growing up and my dad would go away on hunting, fishing and guys' weekend trips, my mom would throw a party. (Sorry, Den, for revealing this to you now. Sorry, Mom, for revealing.)

He worked hard all week and always wanted things low-key on the weekends, so we never had any big playdates or wild ruckuses at the house. But when he left, my mom let the good times roll, with kid parties and fast food and shopping trips. It might sound like we longed for my dad to leave us on a weekend, but somehow we found him enjoyable enough to want him around for the majority of the time. :) I did love when my Mom and sister were gone (no offense to them), because my dad and I would part ways, him to the basement and me to the upstairs, where we would do whatever we wanted (I read, mostly) in complete peace until they returned three days later. We'd see each other now and then and say hello, but mostly we were in our own worlds. Heaven. 

Anyway, now Trevor has gone for a week (Vegas, for work) and I've become my mother. This morning I gave the girls little gifts I'd been hoarding for Berit's upcoming birthday, took them to gymnastics, and when Marta went down for a nap I gave Berit a big birthday gift. Why? I don't have any idea. I just did. And then I gave her an ice cream cone. And THEN, after she kind of choked on her apple a little later, I felt bad and offered her another ice cream cone, which she took and licked a few times then gave back. Why am I doing this? Do I actually have a party gene that is activated when Trevor packs his suitcases? I had planned to be so structured, and right now I'm feeling like... eh! Let them eat cake!