Mulch

In case you're wondering what to get him for his birthday. Look no further.

For the love of art

This is offically my favorite thing in my house.This woman speaks my art language.

Life is like a box of chocolates....

...you never know what your going to get.

Case in point: Mia came out of her room at 10:15 PM the other night to show me this box of chocolates she made. Pretty creative, huh?Then she showed me the lid to her chocolate box. Do you see anything concerning about this?
How about the words, "No God" just casually written across the top?

So the next morning I asked what "No God" means to her.

"Moth-ther, that is an abbreviation for 'There is no one like God and Jesus'."

She was very exasperated with my lack of insight and intelligence. I really need to quit asking questions when the answer is so obvious.

My apologies.

Is it THAT bad?

You'd think their Mom was some psycho who exploited her children on the Internet or something. It's your memories, kids. Keep that in mind some day when you're in therapy. I am only doing this for your benefit.

Wicked Hookers, how's that for a title?

So after my big birthday/anniversary surprise I pooched my lip, stomped up and and down, and shouted, "But I wanted to go to Tulsa to see Wicked on opening night with my sister and shop and eat absurd amounts of sweets for two days!!!!!!!!
And what do you know.....

Check out those fabulous earrings.

Man, we got real creative with the self-portraits. This is exciting stuff.

Actually, Maresa and I have been waiting for weeks to see Wicked (thanks, Mom and Dad), I'm not that big of a brat.

And this, my friends, is Rahab sitting in the hot sun at 2:30 PM waiting on her cousins (well, Andy's cousins kids, whatever that makes them to her) who aren't supposed to be here until supper time. You can't reason with a hooker. They just won't listen.

"Mommy, Daddy got you a wooden boobie holder at the party store."

Not a sentence I was prepared to hear gushing out of my child's mouth today. But apparently you haven't lived until you've owned a coconut bra.

I should know.

Nothing could have prepared me for my day today. It. Rocked.

It's all I can do to not make your stomachs turn by telling you how much I lucked out with this Andy guy. Seriously.


He fashioned me a fancy diet coke mocktail delivered to me by a live mariachi band (aka Erick Alexander and some random guy with a weird Jamaican accent).

Check it out. The patent is pending.
Then things got real fun.

First a necessity - my Starbucks card.

Then my favorite place on the planet, save Starbucks - Target.

Next, another favorite - as I like to call it, Forever 29.

The fourth gift of the day, a new necessity - At The Beach. I've never tanned in my life but I'm not above it.
And finally....

(And if you even have to ask if that's really us then I think I hate you.)

The best ten years of my life. No doubt about it.

So what's the deal with honey?

I consider myself a honey aficionado just because my brother-in-law's family owns a honey plant. That's my only qualification what-so-ever.

I usually get the honey "hook-up" from the Ross' but the other day I got desperate and bought a little honey bear from a grocery store.

Just look at the color difference:
The?

Why is the store bought honey almost clear? And why does it taste like corn syrup? Well, my friends, that is because it is full of corn syrup. Apparently you can claim it is "pure" honey just because what little honey that is actually in the jar is "pure" or "100%" or whatever. It doesn't mean the entire jar is "pure honey."

It's lies I tell ya, pure lies.

"You are not pure, and you know it."

It's my birthday and I'll blog if I want to

So there.

Bode is beginning to master Mia's famous "head cocked to the side with smirk" pose.

Imitation is the highest form of flattery.

Andy and Mia headed to the Princess Tea Party. Don't ask what she's wearing. I don't know either. But I'll tell ya what I do know: It's certainly not one of the four handcrafted, custom, handmade princess outfits that Ahmo made. That would just be too predictable, now wouldn't it?

And then there's this delicious little thing looking completely stupefied.

"Mommy, why is Mia wearing a nightgown from the clearance rack of the Disney Store when she has all those gorgeous clothes in her closet?"

You tell me, Son. You tell me.

Every child should have an Ahmo

I got the following e-mail this morning from Ahmo:

Mia is building a mud house for the ants in my yard. Love, Ahmo

Thank you so much for being her Ahmo too. Nothing is sweeter.

Just some stuff I want to be able to remind Mia about when she's 18

Mia: Matchmaker, Matchmaker patch me a patch....
Raegan: What's a Matchmaker?
Mia: It's a little lady that, like, you know, makes those sticks with the fire on the end.
Raegan: Why is she patching them?
Mia: Well, you know, they are broken and she needs to patch them.
And seamlessly transitioning to potty-humor, the inevitable ending to most of their conversations.
R: Hey Mia, Root-beer, toot-beer.
M: Hey Raegan, burger sauce.
Both: HAAAAAAAAAHAAAAAAAAAAAAAHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHAAAAAAAAAAAAA
Me, to myself: Bite your tongue, Summer, bite your tongue.

Cupcake down

I love it when my kid wins cupcakes at a neighborhood cakewalk, especially when it's not our neighborhood, or our cakewalk.
"Hey Mia, did you know you kinda look like a drowned rat. Why do you have such overactive sweat glands? You're really going to hate that someday."

Liberty Fest, exactly 5 minutes before the Great Wind of '09 turned this contraption into a tangled mess of chains and children.
Andy looks a little Chester Molesterish in this pic. Sorry that didn't stop me from posting it, Babe.
This pic had such potential. My bad.

Happy 4th Ya'll

Unfortunately, this little man loves his bed more than his country so I am missing the big show.

More on this day later. Right now, these babies are taking precedent.

Some things just can't be resisted

I have to admit that Mia's latest creation sums up my feelings as of late: A little awkward, confused, and stressed which has led to a blogging dry spell.

It happens.

You aren't a Lashley man without a Yankees cap and a golf club.

And this is Mom's latest sun-dress.

Check out those ginormous flowers. I am starting to resent my kid for having better clothes than I do. I have a problem, I know.