Seven

Seven years ago today I was doing this:


Happy Anniversary, Gyne. You are the love of my life every minute of every day.

Who Wants to See Something Cute?

Internet, I am proud to present to you the newest additions to the Engel clan: [now with edits]

Pippi Longstocking Engel [What I meant to say was Winston Churchill Engel]

Lucy McGillicuddy Ricardo Engel [Um, actually Lou C. Engel. The C is for Value.]

You'll notice we named them after two of our our favorite red-headed ladies fellas.

But we're now fairly certain they're both boys [yup]. We'll find out for sure later today from the vet.

So maybe you've actually just met Ira Winston & Lou.

Either way, SQUEE! KITTEHS!

The Greatest Show on Earth

We took Dash to the circus last night. Jesus Christ he hated it.

Well, after the cotton candy, popcorn, s'mores on a stick (most genius concept ever) were gone. He was pretty happy when he had the lapful of sugar, carbs & fat to address.

Craft Hope 3

I know a little something about babies and their relationships with blankets. Dash's love for his Nana is famous among those who know us.

With Nana on Father's Day

When it's time for sleep, the first question is "where's Nana?" (Once we forgot to bring Nana to school. I think his teacher is still not recovered from the hysterics that ensued).

Even Superheroes needs their Nanas

When there's an injury to be addressed, the first wail is never for Mama or Daddy. Nana first, every time. (It's kind of how we know he's really hurt and not just whining.) When Dash is tired or grumpy, there must be Nana to smell and rub on his nose. Sometimes, when he's very, very tired, we'll hear from the back seat of the car, "My Nana, she is a sweet Nana."

Nana as tablecloth at the Angels game.

Dash has three Nanas in rotation. I live in fear that something might happen to one of them, because Nana has been discontinued and is selling on Ebay for upwards of $50. But I know that if push comes to shove, I'll pay it. Because Nana is important. Nana helps make my baby feel safe.

So, when I'm told that orphaned babies need Nanas (or Blankies, or Silkies or whatever) and that I can help, well, I help. Because I get it. Because my child has two parents and a whole giant network of people who would kill for him and still, he needs that little extra comfort. Because babies with none of what he has could probably use a little of that comfort, too.

Craft Hope 3's call went out for baby blankets and beanies (along with booties that I was too intimidated to attempt) for childrens homes in India. I made four blankets and six beanies.

I made beanies from this pattern once before, for Amanda Soule's Mama to Mama project. It was a great way to upcycle some promotional t-shirts Josh never wore, and was so incredibly simple. Now that I'm a very slightly better sewer, they took maybe 15 minutes from start to finish. And they're so cute! With the little knot up top. Come on!

Because it's hot where these blankets are going, they don't include any batting. It's just a piece of cotton flannel backed with a piece of yellow gingham (also cotton, of course; can't have any polyester rubbing up against any naked baby parts).

Each blanket took a yard of each fabric that shrunk up just a little in the wash. I think they'll be a good size for swaddling or just for a comfort Nana for older kids.

Thanks again, Jade, for the opportunity to remember how very, very blessed and lucky our family is, to be so rich in Nanas and resources that we even have a little left over to for those who have none.

Our Summer Thus Far

So we're about two weeks into Summer 2009. Here's what we've been up to:

These are the Anaheim chilies that we're growing. For our (mine & Aunty Kala's) BBQ birthday/4th of July extravaganza, I cut them in half, stuffed them with cream cheese and wrapped them in bacon. Bake at 325 for 30 minutes and you're instantly everyone's best friend. I also did a batch with Jalapenos for the bad-asses in our crew. The recipe came from this woman who is an evil genius and I'd like to know why she doesn't weigh 280 lbs.

Speaking of FOOD that is GROWING in our BACK YARD, here are the first few cherry tomatoes. We've had one or two ready to eat about every evening since last Friday. We give them to Dash, who says they're tasty. Neither Josh nor I have actually gotten to eat one yet.

Tomatoes in hand.

Going in.

Stuffed in cheek, like a squirrel. (Dash calls that board a gibby board. We don't know why, but we go with it. Josh & I both live in fear that we're one swim lesson away from his learning the truth. Gibby board is incomparably superior to boogie board.)

Dash's school had a 4th of July party and I was in charge of the handprint flag. I may have overshot with the size of the fabric because by the time I had run out of kids, I still had about half the flag undone. So I did what any obsessive compulsive crafter would do. I folded it up, snuck it out and had Dash finish it at home.

No one will be the wiser. Unless they find this blog.

Every now and again Dash will ask to play Josh's trumpet.

It's awesome.

We bought this Spiderman slip 'n slide last night and Josh had it all set up for him tonight before dinner.

You know, it's not that easy to explain to a three-year-old how to hurl himself onto a slip 'n slide. We greased up his belly with sunscreen and Josh had to kinda fling him down it.

I think he liked it.

Independence Day

We took took the Independence part perhaps a touch too literally and handed a 3-year-old a lit pyrotechnic. Because we are good parents. With impeccable judgment.

Today is July 6 and he still has all of his fingers and toes. No thanks to us.

Campout

Yesterday was the Great American Backyard Campout, and because we Engels does what we's told, this is where I woke up this morning:

It was the first night of my entire life spent out of doors. And friends, I won't lie. I've been more comfortable. The ground was harder than I ever imagined a lawn could be. I kept hearing imaginary and possibly not imaginary creatures stalking around. And Dash is a notorious bed (and now tent) hog. But still, it was big fun to hang out with him in the tent, flashlights bouncing around, stories read over and over. I assumed he'd awake to pee at 2am and that would be the end of that, but he finally dropped off to sleep at 11pm (I know, mother of the year) and didn't stir until I could stand it no longer and tried to sneak out at 6:30am--waking all the tent inhabitants in the process.

But I'm definitely going to do it again. Possibly with an air mattress next time.

And because I apparently will not rest until people start calling me Ma Ingalls, we breakfasted on homemade bread, baked the night before, and the saucy jam which was less runny than I worried and really pretty tasty.