Digging Suburbia – mumbling and fumbling my way through backyard restoration

Parental misses

Ya know, sometimes you miss one and you get this: And sometimes you miss one and you get this: David said, “How?” And I said, “What?? Ok, so maybe I handed them the wet paper towels and didn’t supervise…” Look, at least it’s not a gang sign. On second thought… That would explain SO MUCH…
Many mickles make a muckle

LET’S NOT TALK ABOUT THE RABBITS. Anything else will be fine. Quite nice, even. Calm, peaceful, restful… NO RABBIT TALK. Unfortunately no rabbit talk means no talk of edamame, green beans, crimson clover, jalapenos, and now my beloved okra… We call it “the h-word” around here…it’s a no-no… I HATE RABBITS. Let’s talk of nice things…
Gonna need some help parenting defiance

Yes, we are still potty training. Yes, the small person who is potty training locked the rest of us out of the house and proceeded to stand at the door, licking her popsicle, with a sinister smile and the ever present threat of a puddle on the floor. Yes, I had a hard time not

Mixed Signals

03/18/2018

Mom, can you get me my kitty book and bring it to me?

Child, do you see what I am doing?

Yes.

What am I doing?

Cooking my dinner.

**

Round here we beat back the selfishness with some good old fashioned manual labor. Potato planting season helps:

A little dirt under the fingernails…

A start in the the ground turning into the food for the table…

A little seed deep into the heart…

It does them good and me even more good, for you see, round here I’m Chief Selfish. When it comes to planting I’m much quicker on the roots of self and bitterness than the potatoes. God save me.

So we beg forgiveness and dig together and plant a little something that might grow into a big something that feeds our hearts and souls and bellies.

And then we paint fingernails and talk about princesses because Ew, they were dirty.