don't touch my nut butter

Alex was in Hawaii last week. As I was taking the children to get flu shots and dealing with an extraordinarily grumpy, feverish Tillie and a bossy Catcher with a rained-out soccer game (no problems to speak of from Scout), Alex was running on the beach at sunrise and drinking Mai Thais by sunset--at least that's how I imagined it. All was forgotten, however, when he showed up with the one thing that I specifically requested return with him from the tropical isles: macadamia nut butter. The challenge was not impossible considering Hawaii is the land of macadamia nuts, but sometimes husbands get the instructions wrong. For example, I'm grateful he texted "Macadamia Nut Oil?" from the Island Naturals store--the third store on his butter hunt, he reminds me--in Kona so I could respond "Butter. Macadamia Nut Butter" and avoid a potential crisis. We're approaching our ten-year anniversary, so his training is still underway (winky face).

But back to the butter...this stuff is phenomenal. It tastes amazing on anything. And by anything, I mean straight out of the jar and on the fresh baguette I smeared it all over for lunch today. I ate the whole baguette and almost 12 oz. of nut butter. I'm trying to savor this $15 jar of pure deliciousness, but that's pretty impossible. I gave Alex the evil eye when he dipped into it this afternoon. I know he had to smuggle it past TSA--just kidding, he checked his bag--but sometimes I become possessive of such things. Besides, it's the least he could do after touring volcanoes and sitting around on the beach drinking Mai Thais all week.

this was in my hair...

Bug Guide

This afternoon I took the trash out and walked right into a spider web. This is the spider that I found crawling in my hair (IN MY HAIR!). I think he--or probably more accurately she--was more scared than I was, but...no, maybe not. I was pretty freaked out. It looks all cute and happy-faced here, but I was convinced this spider was 1) poisonous 2) had bitten me and 3) left fragments of web and half-eaten flies throughout my tangled mess of a wig. Luckily I was wrong on all accounts. After I Googled "yellow and black spiky spider," this is what I discovered. Its name is was too complicated to pronounce for the non-entomologist community, but they also call it a crab spider. Thank you, crab spider, for being cute when I thought you were a menace.

never go to bed angry

One of those sage pieces of advice that old married people offer--usually unsolicited--to young married people just beginning their journey is "never go to bed angry." I totally support that theory in a romantic comedy starring Julia Roberts sort-of-way. But in real life I'm not very romantic and understand that sometimes one must go to bed angry...and hopefully wake-up with a fresh perspective. Although these "words of wisdom" are most often dealt to couples, it turns out that you can use (or not use, as the case may be) them on children as well.

The other night Catcher was extremely tired (but don't tell him!) and in a particularly snarky mood at five past bedtime. His pillow was lumpy; his Lego character was missing a helmet; his Stuffie was stupid; life was not fair. My brain went dead, as is often one's best option in these situations, and I simply pointed to his bedroom and told him to get in bed. By not engaging in a chess match of six year-old neuroses, I irked Catcher even more (obviously). He stormed out of his room--after storming into his room--carrying his pillow and slung it down on the living room floor. I'm sure this would have caused a greater commotion if it hadn't, in fact, been a soft pillow that he tossed onto the floor. He then stuck out his bottom lip, hunched his shoulders, grabbed two pillows from the sofa and marched back in to his room. After that I didn't hear another word (except maybe a few murmurs about things being unfair). When I peeked in on him an hour later, I discovered a young man who had gone to bed angry:

P.S. They're so sweet when they're sleeping, right? Even with their arms crossed and pouting.

the queen(s) and i

Today I dusted off my old retail skills by slinging books at Scout's preschool book fair. Some of my favorite lines on the selling floor included "You can't consider it spoiling your child when you're buying him/her books" and "Have you read [insert book title here]? It's the best. My kids are obsessed with it." I think I rocked it. I never thought I would utter such a phrase in reference to a Scholastic book fair--or utter such a phrase period--but things change when those little buggers take over your life. I've always said that I want to "retire" and work for an indy bookstore, so maybe I have a future (after my current future).

On a side note, the theme of this year's book fair had something to do with knights and castles, so the girls came home wearing these:

sartorial scout

The trend comes and goes, but she's been doing it since before she was two years old: Scout and the mis-matched shoes. Today she walked out of her room in this delightful ensemble. Please note that her socks are, in fact, "clean." She likes to take off her shoes (but not socks) when outside running around on the playground or anywhere else that's sufficiently dirty. I wash them, but, you know...

the house the wheats built

The children go crazy for building gingerbread houses. Of course we all know the reason is not that any one of them aspires to be the next I.M. Pei or Phillip Johnson. They just want to lick the icing and sneak--although they do a terrible job of sneaking--bits of candy. I'm glad that Americans spent $6.9 billion (that isn't a typo, I found the number from Forbes here) on Halloween last year because that means Williams Sonoma has reason to create a haunted gingerbread house kit that my kids can decorate without waiting a long two months for the Christmas version. It also gives me a chance to work on my piping skills. I don't think we'll be ready to show off our artistry at the Four Seasons holiday showcase this year, but it kept us busy for an hour this afternoon. The only drawback is that I'll have to listen to the kids squawking "Can we eat the haunted house? When can we eat the haunted house? I just want a taste." for the next three weeks.

grunge worthy

This week Catcher's school celebrated its 75th anniversary, which is kind of a big deal in a "young" town like Austin (young compared to those "old" towns on the East Coast where I grew up). There were festivities throughout the week and a big party last night complete with food trucks and live music in true Austin fashion. Today marked the end of the week-long celebration, where each grade was asked to dress in the style of their assigned decade. First grade got the 90s, so obviously I was thrilled. I can do the 90s; I lived the 90s.

My first instinct was to go grunge, but instead of going totally grungy-grunge with Catcher's look, I wanted to inject a little of that Zack Morris preppy style. Thus, we--meaning I--opted for a bright tee shirt tucked and rolled in the style of the Bayside hottie or those other California boys from 90210. He wouldn't let me style his hair, but I did sneak in a couple of glamour shots before he went running back inside the house.