When life gets full, the blog gets empty.

When I saw the recipe for these goat cheese empanadas in the August issue of Real Simple magazine, I ripped the page out immediately. I could almost feel my mouth watering. Goat cheese! Pie crust! Two of my favorite things combined into one delicious snack. I had to have them.

The recipe is very simple--it was from an article on three-ingredient recipes. As written, it said to take pre-made refrigerated pie dough, roll it out and cut out three inch rounds with a cookie cutter. Put goat cheese on the rounds, fold them in half and crimp the edges. Bake at 375 for 20-25 minutes, then serve with salsa.

I did that almost exactly as it was written, except that I made my own pie crust from scratch. I'm a little obsessive about my pie crust; it has to be really good, and I've never tasted a pre-made one that was up to my standards. I just prefer my family recipe to any other. I'm not being snobby, I promise. It's just that good.



See? Here are they are, golden and delicious, with salsa and Diet Pepsi. Do I know how to have a good time, or what?

I bit into one, expecting cheesy goodness. Instead...

Well, they weren't bad. They were certainly edible. But they didn't even come close to the delectable treat I had imagined. The pie crust was rich and flaky. The cheese was rich and creamy. Together (I can't hardly believe I'm going to write this) they were almost too rich to enjoy. The flavors didn't really complement each other. It made for a heavy mouthful, not a tasty little snack. I wanted them to be crispy on the outside, soft and cheesy on the inside. But they weren't. The crust was tender and flaky, as pie crust should be, but I think something lighter and crunchier would have worked better.

Also, I'd never baked chevre before, but I had imagined it would get kind of melty and gooey, like most cheese does. But it didn't. It was the exact same soft, slightly creamy/crumbly consistency as normal...just warm. And that wasn't necessarily bad, but it wasn't great either. Speaking as a girl who has never met a cheese she didn't like, who loves fondue and grilled cheese sandwiches and nachos and all other kinds of cooked-cheese type recipes, I would have to say that based on this recipe, baked goat cheese ranks lowest of all the cheese I've ever baked.

Maybe if I'd followed the directions and used a store-made pie crust. Those are usually kind of thin and tasteless. That might actually have been a little better than the two rich, competing tastes. Maybe if I rolled the dough out real thin so you got just a taste of the dough before biting into the cheese? Maybe if I used puff pastry instead? Maybe if I tried a different kind of cheese that would get more melty in the oven? (hmm, maybe I just need to try a different recipe). For now, all I can say is that these goat-cheese-in-a-pie-crust-empanadas were not all that I dreamed they would be. Major bummer.

However--we also tried a recipe we DID like. Stay tuned for a review of Watermelon-Raspberry Slushies! A perfect (and perfectly healthy) summer snack.

1. I'm not going to say it, because I don't want to jinx us. But. You may have noticed that I posted about being sick. And then didn't post for two days. Perhaps it may have occurred to you that the sickness and the not-posting were related to each other. You would be right. This nasty illness, whatever it was, followed us home and hunted us down one by one.

But...today I'm posting again. Let's not get cocky and say anything more than that.

2. Hmmm, how to segue from sickness to recipe reviews? There really isn't a good way. So I'll just tell you: inbetween sick times this week, we tried a couple new recipes. One was a watermelon-raspberry slushie. One was a goat cheese empanada. One was delicious, and one was disappointing. Which was which? I'll let you know next week.

3. Okay, back to a sickness-related thought. After we got home from the Camping Trip of Doom, we had a couple of pillows that badly needed to be washed. I pulled the pillowcases off, but decided that the smell had really penetrated through and the whole pillow itself needed to be washed. I followed the washing instructions, which included "tumble dry low." But they came out of the dryer as though I'd washed them not with water, but with magic pillow-fluffing steroids. They used to be a normal amount of fluffiness. Now they are so huge and puffy they barely fit in their pillowcases, and you have to crane your neck up to sleep on them. So not comfortable! What can I do about this? Is there a way to deflate them back down to normal size, or are they ruined?

4. Garden update: maybe my garden isn't totally a lost cause this year. I did get a squash!


(Just ignore the other random stuff on top of my table. Or, think of it as a still life: Squash with Slipper and Steinbeck.)


5. I've mentioned it before, but I'll say it again: Restyle Resale in North Albany is a great store and well-worthy of a visit. I was looking for a new outfit in which to properly celebrate my upcoming birthday, and I tried on probably 20 dresses there yesterday. I really liked ALL of them, but finally decided on a classy black one that was an excellent price: $15. It's all black, so I also picked up a red beaded necklace to go with it. It's sparkly! So. Love the dress, love the necklace, already have some cute black shoes. Big question: what color of toenail polish should I wear with this outfit? Should I wear bright red, like the necklace? Or a different color? Would red and black and red and black be too matchy-matchy?

6. We've had perfect weather this week. In the 80s. Hot enough for summer fun, not so hot that we're dying of heat. Love it.




7. I have a sadly neglected flower bed in my back yard. I tried to plant some pansies back there this spring, but they died because it is in full sun and I rarely watered them. (Did I mention it's sadly neglected?) Any ideas on what I should plant there? Other than a cactus garden? What are your favorite low-maintenance, drought-resistant plants?

You can read more quick takes, probably with less sickness and boring garden questions, here.

It was after midnight. The tent was dark, the girls all peacefully slumbering, when I heard the crying. The hard, choking kind of crying that comes from a truly distressed child. I raised my head off my pillow, but it took only a second for me to realize it wasn't my kid. Rebekah's voice, soothing her son, followed in a moment.

Remember how I said it was a not-especially-large group camping site? Well, I wasn't kidding about that. We had six families in the campsite, and our tents were only inches apart from each other. I could hear everything, plain as day, as Rebekah coaxed her son into clean clothes and got him quieted down. Oh, the poor kid, I thought. Throwing up in the tent? That's the worst! And then, Gosh, she's being such a good, compassionate mother, I thought. I don't think I'd be nearly so sweet to my kids if they were the ones puking in the middle of the night.

Of course, of course, you can see where this is going, right?

I think I'd just drifted off to sleep again when suddenly I was sitting bolt upright in my sleeping bag, barely certain of what had awakened me. What was that? I whispered loudly in the kids' general direction. What was that? And then I heard it again. Then unmistakable sound of a small child upchucking an entire evening's worth of s'mores.

I scrabbled around in the darkness. Where was the flashlight? Where was the stinking flashlight? I ended up grabbing my cell phone and holding it up in my hand, the faint glow from the screen illuminating Beth's teary face and the puddle of yuck on the floor. I didn't quite know what to do. I sat there, staring, as Beth wiped her mouth with her sleeve and said, "I threw up, Mom." And then we both watched as her still-sleeping sister stirred in her sleep. We gasped. "Oh, even worse! Now Lucy's rolled in it," she said.

I sprang into action, scooting the sleeping kids out of the way, pushing Beth's hair out of her face and ordering her to sit still. I dashed for the door of the tent, somehow found the flashlight on the way, and started pulling still-damp towels off the clothesline I'd rigged up in the trees.

Back in the tent, where I wiped and swiped and cleaned as best as I could. The nasty pillows and blanket and one poor little stuffed kitty-cat I just threw out the tent door into the bushes. I'd deal with it in the morning. I tucked Beth back in, giving her my pillow since hers was be-fouled. I found a bucket we'd used earlier in the day for making sand castles at the beach and tucked it next to her head, instructing her to use it if she had to puke again.

Which, unfortunately, she did. And did. And did.

And it wasn't long before Lucy joined in.

More towels, more buckets, more blankets tossed out into the darkness. Inbetween times I fell down onto my sleeping bag and dozed. Sometimes I'd start awake, hearing the sound of someone puking, and shine my flashlight at the girls, only to see them both lying still and quiet, and I'd realize the noise was actually coming from Rebekah's tent. I lost count of how many times this went on.

All mothers have nights like this--nights where you feel so bad for your poor sick kiddo and yet you just keep praying for them to STOP being SICK already so you can sleep. For a minute, just a minute of sleep. It's all you need. And then you feel guilty for your selfishness and stroke their poor little sick forehead tenderly, and then you fall asleep again because you're just so doggone tired. And going through this with two kids simultaneously was a new experience for me. Plus, at least usually when you have a sick kid, it's at home. Where you have the benefit of linen closets stocked with clean towels and blankets, of washing machines (or at least laundry hampers) to throw the dirty clothes in. Of sinks where you can get your kiddo a glass of water and wash your hands after cleaning up the puke. Where you don't have to breathe in the smell of it all night long. Enduring a night of vomit in a tent took the whole experience to an entirely new level.

I have to say, hearing Rebekah's son through the thin tent walls was, in a strange way, comforting. Bad, in that no one wants to listen to someone else being sick, and no one wishes that on someone else, but good in that at least I knew I wasn't the only one awake all night dealing with it. Sometimes it's nice to know you're not the only one suffering. And, bad in that I was the one who'd cooked dinner that night, and so when I wasn't cleaning up vomit or fitfully sleeping I was lying awake worrying that the sudden sickness meant I'd poisoned everyone, but that's another story (we're still pretty uncertain what caused it). In the morning when Rebekah and I straggled out of our tents, both saggy-eyed and droopy, we shared a sad little smile across the campsite. Listening to each others' children puke all night: it's a bonding experience.

And then I got everything packed up while the girls lay around all pale and sickly. (Except for Evie, who woke up as chipper and rested as ever, having slept through the entire thing). I shoved the disgusting blankets and pillows and sleeping bags into the plastic trash bags I'd brought and put them in the cargo container on top of the car, so we wouldn't have to smell them all the way home. The kids puked as I buckled them into the car. They puked as I pulled out onto the highway. And then...they slept all the way home. And they haven't puked since, thank God.

And that is the story of the camping trip I will never forget. And that I pray I will never, ever repeat.

We just got back from a weekend of beach-camping fun.




Eleven adults, fifteen kids, one not-especially-large group camp site.



We played on the beach and in the woods.




The kids got extremely filthy.



We spent lots of time sitting around the campfire.



It was all lovely and perfect. Until...disaster struck.

Stay tuned for Part Two tomorrow.

1. Beth opened up the junk drawer after my big clean-out and exlaimed, "Oh, mom! You organized it!" You should have heard her voice--so shocked, so pleased. You know it's bad when even your children notice just how much better things look when you put in a little effort.

2. My race! The half-marathon went really well. In fact, it's getting better and better in my mind, the farther and farther I get away from it. Funny how difficult experiences always seem better in hindsight, isn't it?

Actually, it wasn't that difficult. Challenging, sure. I felt like I was crawling along, slow and sluggish. Every time I came up to a new mile marker, I found myself saying, "Oh, no! Only mile 7? I was sure I was farther along than that." And since I didn't run with a watch or timer or cell phone, I had no idea how I was doing, pace-wise. I felt sure the altitude was slowing me down.

So, I was extremely pleased and surprised when I crossed the finish line, looked at the big clock, and saw that I'd completed it in just over two hours, about three minutes faster than my last half-marathon. My official time was 2:00:45, so I had a pace of 9:15 per mile. For some people, this is not fast at all. For me, it was a big accomplishment.

And I guess maybe a little bit of worrying actually speeded me up along the way.




3. Check out my freezer!


Getting a little bit fuller now. We've picked strawberries, raspberries and blueberries so far this summer, and I'm hoping to pick raspberries and blueberries a few more times. I'm thinking of buying green beans at the farmer's market or from a farm, then blanching and freezing them. Heather is hooking me up with some local beef. Yes, we're putting this little guy to good use.

4. My garden kind of sucks this year. My tomatoes have some kind of weird rolled-up leaf thing going on. They're still blooming, so I'm kind of ignoring it, but they don't look right. My pototoes looked wonderful earlier in the year and now they are yellowing and browning and I think they have blight. You know, the thing that caused the Irish potato famine. My green beans got mostly eaten by slugs. My spinach never even grew. My broccoli got such a late start because of the wet spring, that they were just little seedlings still when the hot weather came. Then they bolted. They show no signs of actually forming heads like they are supposed to. Only about two of my carrots grew. My sugar snap peas were lovely, but they're almost done. My lettuce was okay, but kind of bitter. It's bolted now too.

I've just got my zucchini and my squash left to pin my hopes on now. Surely even I can't kill zucchini, can I?

5. Target has back to school stuff everywhere already. Not even a month after schools let out for the summer. Can't we just have a break, marketers of America? Just for a little while? Please?

6. Up until yesterday, I had never barbecued anything, ever. Eric really enjoys barbecuing, so I just let him do it. Plus, one time I tried to light our propane barbecue, and I did something very wrong, and there was kind of a (mini) explosion and I burned all the hair off my arm (which I had instinctively thrown up in front of my face). I'm lucky I walked away with my eyebrows intact.

But. That was years ago, and I'm stronger and smarter now. And my husband wasn't home that day, and I wanted grilled chicken, dang it! So I got over my fear and did it. And the chicken was moist and delightful and just as perfect as when he does it.

7. This is the current favorite song in our household:




Kick Drum Heart by the Avett Brothers. The girls and I have big dance parties when this song comes on; they've been known to hit repeat multiple times. It's catchy, it's fun, it's perfect for dancing to.
(note that the video I linked to is a fan video of a live performance and the sound isn't great, although it's awesome to watch the band rocking out while they play it. For better-quality listening, but no visual, check out the song at the Avett Brothers official site.)

For more quick takes, click here.

Isn't that great? I love the idea that 30 does not mean "old." It means "experienced." As in, wiser, smarter, and stronger than that rookie, greenhorn, empty-headed 18-year-old. Better than I used to be.

And, just for the record, I am not 30 yet. This was an early birthday present from my sister. Early. Very early. I am still most definitely in my 20s.

What I am about to show you is an atrocity.

I'm not kidding. You may need to avert your eyes from the computer screen. I'm showing it to you only in hopes that publicly taking myself to task will result in me never letting it get this bad again.

Ready? Here we go.

These are the contents of my junk drawer:




Nope. Not kidding. As of last night, every single bit of that crap piled up on the counter was crammed into a single drawer in my kitchen.

Now, you all have them, right? Junk drawers? A drawer somewhere that you keep pens and pencils and tape and nails and other flotsam and jetsam of life that finds its way to you? I know you have them. Everyone does. And (unless you are an organized and anal person, which I am not) they usually tend to be a tad messy.

But mine. Oh, mine takes the cake. It had (OBVIOUSLY) been a very long time since I organized it. More than a year. I don't even know when the last time I attempted to clean it out was. For awhile, I had it on my to-do list, because I knew it really needed to be done, but I kept putting it off and in the end secretly erased it from my to-do list in failure, because I never got it done. But finally I could put it off no longer. Last night was the night. I dumped everything out on the counter, vacuumed out the inside of the drawer, and went to work.

Some of the more amusing items are pictured below:




1. The big vertical thing in the middle. That would be my husband's recorder. Yes, recorder, complete with blue carrying case. Which he used in his elementary school music class in fourth grade. And he still has this because...? And it needed to be in a drawer in our kitchen because...?

There really are no satisfactory answers to those questions.

2. Immediately to the right of the recorder, almost hidden underneath it. A brown rock. I'm assuming that was a contribution from one of my daughters.

3. The roundish black thing in the upper right. A wheel. From some piece of wheeled furniture. It looks like it came off an office chair. But my chair has all its wheels. I have no idea where this wheel came from.

4. A bag of marbles. Again, I'm assuming a relic of my husband's childhood, that for some reason found its eternal resting place in my kitchen.

5. Twenty-six cents in change.

6. A plastic case that once contained Glow-in-the-Dark Magnetic Poetry. I have had this set of magnetic poetry since I was in college. It was on the side of Meg and I's dorm room fridge. It's now on the side of my fridge here in my house. It also contained letters and blank magnetic strips should you wish to painstakingly cut and paste your own magnetic poetry words. I've had this set of magnetic poetry since 1998, and I've never done that. Probably safe to assume I can throw it out.

7. To the left of the recorder. A bright pink lipstick. I bought this shade and didn't like it. Why did I stash it in my kitchen?

8. A full set of Burt's Bees hand and lip balms. Nice. Why was it hidden in the back of the drawer?

9. A pressure gauge for checking tire pressure. Not sure we see a lot of flat tires in the kitchen.

10. The leg from Lucy's transformer. Poor guy has been leg-less for who knows how long. I may even have thrown him out because of his leg-less status (I know, after watching Toy Story 3 I feel horrible for ever condemning a toy to death at the landfill too. But not horrible enough to stop me from doing it).


Oh, and also it contained twenty-four pencils, AND twenty-one ink pens. And why did I think I could never find anything to write with in there? Oh yeah, because they were all lost in the bottom of a sea of crap. I went ahead and just threw out any pencils that weren't already sharpened. It's not as though I have a writing implement shortage.

Okay, now we get to the good part. The after picture! Here is what my junk drawer looks like now:




Lovely, clean and organized. I feel good every time I open it up.

Anyone want to make any bets on how long it's going to stay that way?

We're moving into strange, uncharted waters. You see, Eric and I are no longer the only literate members of this household. Beth is now reading, reading, reading, deciphering the written word all around her, and that means I can't keep anything secret from her sharp little eyes anymore.

If we drive by a certain store that has a great big enormous sign right near the freeway, she notices it. "Mom? What's an Adult Shop? Why is it only for adults? Do you go there, mom?"

If I write "doctor" on the to-do list in the kitchen, she sees it and is all over it. "Doctor? Who's going to the doctor? Why? Do I have to get a shot? A shot? Do I?"

If the cookbook is open on the counter, she sees it and says "Oh, are we having tuna fish for dinner tonight? I don't *like* tuna."

If she sees a notation on the calendar when she wakes up in the morning, she knows without me telling her that today is the day we're visiting Nana or going to a friend's house or leaving for a trip, and she informs the other girls, and they're out-their-minds hyper with joy for hours before it's time to leave. This is why I generally keep them in the dark about things. An ignorant child is a mellow child.

And let's not even talk about the computer. When she comes up behind me in the office, I want to throw my arms over the screen and say, "No! No! Don't look at this!" Suddenly everything seems like a potential landmine. Whether it's e-mail to a friend discussing some personal issue, or venting on a brief mid-day computer chat with my husband (Me: "the kids are really driving me crazy today." Eric: "heh." Me: "Can't you walk in the door and hold the stinkin baby right now?" Eric: "Probably not, since I am at work." Me: "I could be SUCH an effective and awesome housewife if these kids didn't keep needing me all the time." Him: "Sorry, babe.")

Even Facebook is dangerous...status updates from acquaintances throwing around the occasional "Dammit" or other phrase that doesn't bother me, but I don't really want to hear my 5-year-old incorporating into her conversation. ("Mommy, what does WTF mean?")

And good grief, what about when she starts reading my blog?

Couldn't we just turn back time and have her stay illiterate forever?

Congratulations to Amy C.! She's the winner of a $40 credit to be spent at CSN Stores.

In her comment, Amy said:

"some extra cash would probably be spent on something nice for myself or the kids. Darrin and I have birthdays coming up soon!"


Shopping is fun--I hope you find something great for your birthday!

It was great to read all the comments and see what folks like to splurge on. Books, clothes, and shoes seemed to be popular answers, as well as treats like Starbucks or a dinner out. I support all of those heartily. You are people after my own heart. Thanks to everyone for participating.

I love my new apron.

1. The apron I requested from CSN stores to review arrived in the mail yesterday. It is darling and the girls were in raptures over how cute it is. I'll have some photos and a review up soon.

2. In just about 24 hours from now, I'll be running in a half marathon. Even though I've done it before, even though I have put in all my training and feel prepared, I'm nervous. I'm not really sure what I'm afraid of. It's not as though I'm running to compete, or even to set a certain time. Just to finish! Finishing is my goal, and I feel sure I can do that. And yet the butterflies are making their way to my stomach already.

3. Oh dear. I had a No. 3 in my head, all ready to go. And now I want to write it down, and it's gone. It was probably the best quick take you ever could of read, and now we'll never get to know what it was.

4. Camping food suggestions: I need them. I'm going on a group camping trip in a few weeks, and each family signs up to prepare one meal for the entire group. That way no one has to bring enough food to last the entire weekend, and no one is doing all the cooking all the time. So. I need some kind of dinner whose components I can pack up with me, prepare at the campsite, and serve to 25 people. What are your favorite camping foods?

5. Toy Story 3: I laughed. I cried. My daughter was totally freaked out by a monkey that clanged cymbals and screeched. I completely cracked up at a scene involving a tortilla. It was a good, good movie. Highly recommended.

6. Also, I just learned this week from my friend Heather that Regal Cinemas does free family movies during the summer months. Isn't that cool? It's a nationwide thing, apparently--Heather first heard about it from a friend who lives in Maryland. Not every theater does it, but here in the Willamette Valley the Eugene and Salem cinemas both participate. So, a couple mornings a week, families can show up to Regal and watch a kids' movie completely free. We saw Charlotte's Web in Eugene this week. It was a nice little outing, it was air-conditioned, and -- did I mention it was FREE? I'm a big fan of free.

7. You still have this weekend to add a comment and get a chance to win $40 to spend at CSN stores. I *think* comments are fixed now. And if they're not, and your comment doesn't show up (or, if you commented previously and your comment isn't showing up) just e-mail your entry to me at rousejen at gmail dot com.

More Quick Takes here.

"Where is she?"

"I don't know, is she in the office?"

They're coming for me. Pitter-patter, pitter-patter. Closer and closer they come.

"I don't see her."

"Let's check in here."

Thump thump. Bump. They're almost here. They're right outside the door. There's a hand on the doorknob.

And this is when I start shrieking out sentences that once upon a time I never would have imagined I'd find myself saying.

Things like: "No, I can't give you a hug while I'm peeing."

Or: "No, you can't come in just to watch."

And, most frequently. "You leave Mama alone while she's going potty!"

I blame myself. Pre-kids, I never thought that my bathroom time would become a public event, and yet somehow it just happened once I became a mom. You know, when you're a new mother and you have this beautiful newborn that you're both attached to and a little bit intimidated by, you feel wrong about leaving her alone at any time. And do you really need to shut and lock the door for privacy from a 1-month-old?

And then they grow, and suddenly they're regarding what you do in there with interest, and you're thinking this is actually a good thing, because you want them to start to utilizing the glory that is indoor plumbing themselves. So you continue to leave the door open while you do your business. For the educational value.

Once you have a second child, you continue with your policy of bringing the baby with you to the bathroom, only this time it's because you're nervous about leaving the infant alone with the 2-year-old--even in such seemingly safe locations as the crib or the baby seat--because you're afraid of what your inventive toddler could do to the baby even in the mere 30 seconds that is your daily allocation of time for peeing.

And before you know, mommy's bathroom time is a family affair.

But I'm fighting back. Lately, I've been starting to (you won't believe this) shut the door while I pee. It's an amazing concept, isn't it? Bathroom privacy?

But my girls are mortally offended by this new leave-mama-alone-in-the-bathroom policy. It's just unbelievable to them that there could be a time and place, a time and place within their own house, where they can't have access to me 24/7. They stand outside the door, asking WHEN I'm going to be done, when, when, when?

But I ignore their angst and continue to potty alone. Now I'm even starting to go in there on purpose sometimes. With the door shut, the fan on, a candle burning, I can hardly see or hear them at all. I've got a stack of magazines, scented lotions for my skin, pretty colors with which to paint my nails if I so desire. I can enjoy the stillness and pretend it's going to last.

Suppose you had signed up to do a giveaway on your blog. Suppose you told people that all they had to do to enter said giveaway was leave a comment on said blog. Suppose that multiple people commented, and you were happy, oh so happy.

And then suppose that your blog service screwed something up and half the comments disappeared.

Crap.

That's what's going on, currently, and I wanted to let you know, that just in case you are one of the people who commented, and then you checked back on the giveaway post to figure out how much competition you have for your $40, and you realize that your comment is not there, not there at all...that you shouldn't worry. I did not delete your comment. I am aware of your comment, because they get sent to my e-mail inbox even if they're not displaying on the blog right now. I have them all saved, even the ones that seem to have disappeared from the blog itself.

Blogger.com has this to say about the situation:

"We're currently working through multiple issues which are affecting the reliability of our comment system. We'll update this post as soon as we have more information to share.

Thanks for your patience in the meantime."

So. I have every hope that this thing will get fixed by the time the giveaway closes on Monday. And until then, please feel free to comment away, and have faith that *I* am reading your comments, even if they are invisible to the rest of the world.

Thanks for your patience in the meantime.

They're passing in a blur, and I can't believe it's one week into July already. Every year, I feel this way. Summer seems to be this unattainable thing, something we're reaching for all the time, and then it arrives and then we blink and it's gone.

Our days are full and empty at the same time. I would post a picture of all the things we've been doing, except that I've been too busy DOING things to even be taking pictures of them. All these things that we've been spending hours and hours on: standing in dusty fields, filling our buckets (and bellies) with berries; long hours at the parks, visiting with friends; backyard barbecues and plates full of hot dogs and watermelon and ice cream; these things are not urgent. No terrible consequence will befall us if we miss them. And neither are they important in the big meaning-of-life sense of the word; when I get to the end of my days, will these days of sunshine and conversation stand out as profound and life-changing to me? Probably not.

But they're good, these summer days. Lately I'm feeling guilty about just how good I have it, with this stay-at-home mom gig; my husband goes and sits in an office all day so that I can pick berries and have playdates and go to the library. And sure, inbetween times I make dinner and fold laundry and wipe up poop, but still, I consider myself lucky. You just have to look at the two of us to see which one is getting the better deal right now. Even though I spray myself with my kids' 50 SPF sunscreen ever day, I am SO much more tan than he is.

Things might not be like this forever. Some day, I may return to the working world. But I'm not thinking about that yet. For now, my days are full. Full of highly important things like making sun tea and weeding the garden and helping Beth climb the big rock at the park. Making jam and reading to the kids and pushing them on the swings. We're always busy and never busy, all at the same time.

It's summer. I'm enjoying it while I can.

If you like shopping, this post is for you.

If you remember, I'm doing a review and giveaway this week from CSN stores, an online shopping site with a truly enormous selection of products to choose from. I had a heck of a time figuring out what I wanted to choose to review, but finally, I decided on one of these adorable aprons. They're cute, they're feminine, they're sassy, and they will make me feel happy when I'm in the kitchen.

Even once I narrowed it down to an apron, I could hardly choose between Scarlet Blossom,



Sassy Red,



or Lucious Lemons.



Or maybe Cherry Blossom.


Tough decision! They're all so cute! I finally left it up to my husband, who picked Scarlet Blossom. When I receive it, I will review it, completely and honestly. I mean, it's an apron, so it's not like it has a lot of features that I'm expecting will break down or otherwise cause me concern. I think I'll probably like it. But if it should fall apart the first time I wash it, or if it turns out actually not nearly as cute as it looks in the photos, I'll let you know.

Now, here's the giveaway part: one of you lucky readers will get a chance to spend $40 at CSN Stores too! You could pick an apron, like I did, or pretty much anything else your little heart desires. CSN stores offer a lot of stuff to choose from. It's like finding yourself in a giant mall with $40 in your hand and the instructions to head out in any direction you want. Shoes? Kitchen stuff? A purse? Something for your kids? Something for your pet? I'm hoping the winner will report back on what she (or he) picks and how it turns out.

So, to enter the $40 CSN stores giveaway, please leave a comment answering this question: When you suddenly find yourself with a little unexpected cash, what do you spend it on?

The giveaway will be open until Monday, July 12. I will draw a winner at random from all the commenters. If you're not signing in with a Blogger account, make sure you leave me your name or some way to contact you so I can let you know if you've won.

I've just had quite an enjoyable afternoon, thanks to the online shopping website CSN Stores. They have so much stuff it's almost overwhelming! They have sites devoted to dining room tables, to wall art, to kids' stuff. They have a mod-decor site called allmodern.com, and a very enthralling higher-end shoes and handbags site called luxebycsn.com. And I got the pleasure of browing through them all, because they have again asked me to review a product from one of their more than 200 different sites, and I happily said yes.

Here's the good part: there's something in it for you guys, too. Because it's not just a review, it's a giveaway too! They're giving me $40 (including shipping) to spend on any item on their site--and whoever wins the giveaway gets $40 of their own to spend.

I'm telling you, it kind of feels like Christmas. Or like putting on your coat from last winter and finding money in the pocket. What to do with it? Which direction to go? They have so much to choose from! I'm a little embarrassed to admit how long I spent staring at the computer screen today. There were just so many options. A purse? But I already have a purse that I love. A cool serving bowl? But I already have a lot of serving bowls. A gorgeous duvet set? I'd love a new duvet set, but unfortunately they cost more than $40.

Luckily, their websites make shopping pretty easy--you can sort things by price range, by designer, by material, or by color. They also tell you how many they have in stock; or, if it's out of stock they tell you when they're expecting to get more in. The sites pop up with helpful suggestions at the bottom of the screen of other similar items you might enjoy, or related items that other customers viewed. You can just click, click away, wandering the maze of CSN stores to your heart's content.

If CSN stores sounds good to you and you like the idea of having $40 to blow on anything you may desire, check back on Monday! I'll let you know what I decided on, and I'll open up the giveaway so you can find something lovely for yourself too.

I once heard someone describe herself as an "at-home vegetarian." What she meant by that was that she and her family rarely eat meat at home, but if they go out to dinner or to a friend's home, they will more often than not eat the meat that is served to them.

I think that's kind of where we're at with Evie's potty-training. We're at-home potty-trained. When we're in the usual place, in the usual routine, and when I make sure to take her to the bathroom every so often whether she thinks she needs to or not--we're good. We're golden. She can go all day, even naptimes, with no accidents. And most of the time, even when we're at the park or out running errands, she does very well as long as I do give her enough opportunities for a potty break.

But. There has to be a but, doesn't there? When she's at someone else's house, it's hit and miss. If I don't take her to the bathroom when *I* think she needs to, not when she *says* she needs to, the accidents happen. Sometimes she does correctly identify her need to use the bathroom and warn me in advance, sometimes she doesn't.

If you (like me) are a mom of other kids who potty-trained somewhat on the later end of the spectrum, then you (like me) probably comforted yourself with this phrase when you saw the little 2-or-younger kids who had somehow miraculously graduated out of diapers and into undies: "Well, when they're that young it's really the MOM who is trained, not the kid."

That's where Evie and I are now. And it's true. I'm the one who knows when she needs to go. I've developed a pretty good spidey-sense about it. A potty-radar, if you will. I somehow mentally keep track of how much fluid and food she has taken in recently, and when the last time she went was, and how long she can go before she needs to visit the bathroom. As long as we're around a bathroom and I'm not getting overly distracted, we're good. But it's me who is directing these bathroom visits, not her being in full control of her own urges. Also she can't really pull down her own pants or climb onto the potty by herself that well anyway. So I tell her when she needs to go, (or, occasionally she tells me), I take her in there, she does her business, everybody's happy, and the kids all eat a marshmallow. Win-win-win.

Overall, that means she's like 75 percent potty-trained. Kinda potty-trained. At-home potty-trained. Really fully truly completely potty-trained? No.

But you know what? I'll take it. She can wear undies at home or on short errands, and pull-ups on away-from-home visits or hours-long trips. We're still saving mega-bucks on diapers and I'm not having to deal with the routine disgustingness of changing a toddler's pants all day long. For right now, for this age, it's good enough for me.

At-home potty-trained. I can deal with that.