Spring Break Schenanigans

This week is Spring Break and without having any exciting destination to go to, we instead are coming up with every possibly activity to partake in to keep the kids from going crazy.  Actually, scratch that.  That sentence should read, "we are coming up with every possible activity to keep MOM from going crazy.  Just joking!  Okay, maybe not. 

The activities started last weekend when Michael wanted to make comic books.  A couple of years ago, Aunt Megan and Uncle Adam gave Michael a Spider Man kit to make actual comic books with the kids' own pictures using a software online.  Just a few weeks ago, we found the instruction manual again so on Saturday morning we went to work printing new comics for the kids to color in.  With most activities that involve their creativity, it wasn't too long before the boys started brainstorming ways they could turn their efforts into an entrepreneurial endeavor. Soon, there were talks about creating as many comic books as they could and selling them to everyone in the neighborhood and to their family for at least $20 a piece.  (Secretly I love their entrepreneurial spirit and wish I had more of their risk taking qualities.  Who knows maybe some day they will be starting their own actual business).  

After the comic book making activity commenced, the kids were looking for the next grand activity.  And knowing a tent is always a ton of fun, we decided to set the tent up for some living room camping.  All three of them, and possibly a few of the neighborhood kids, LOVED it!  At one point, our two person pop up tent looked more like a clown car at a circus.  And with the barrels of laughs coming from inside the netted canopy, it was clear, the kids were having a blast.  Right in the comforts of our own home. 

And when one camps, why not practice one's artistic skills.  The kids then decided to brush up on their sketching skills.  Gabriel drew an elephant in the tall dry grass. Michael decided to go all Van Gogh on me and sketched a human body.  And Isabelle, well, we think she painted a bus.  Its similar to a Jackson Pollock masterpiece, and if you stare at it long enough, I do think there is a chance a bus could be in her drawing.  

Living room camping wasn't all that we did.  We also created masterpiece projects using tiny plastic beads, which we formed into shapes and melted to fit together.  The boys had done this during their after school program last year and were super excited to try it again.  Gabriel created a star necklace and a Raven's color cross.  Michael designed Mickey Mouse and a Dallas Cowboys star.  They are determined to keep creating more pieces so they can add them to their "gallery"  and sell them to make money.  

Isabelle was fascinated with what they were doing, but keep getting pulled away by her favorite new pastime. 

Concentrating very hard.

Proud of his finished product!

The Mickey Mouse and Star necklace the boys made on the table.  Along with the 11,000 tiny beads, many of which visited our floor before being returned to their original home.

Here's what Isabelle enjoyed this spring break.  Mickey Mouse Clubhouse!  She'd watch Mickey all day, even though we don't let her.

One other activity we enjoyed this week, to my surprise, was baking.  This morning when we all got up, the boys asked me if they could make me breakfast.  Did I mention I was surprised?  While I ended up making breakfast for all of us, the boys were determined they wanted to make something so I let them.  Michael decided immediately he wanted to make Orange-Ade (his favorite combo of Lemonade and Orange Juice).  He immediately got to work making it as he's done it before and knew all the steps.  Meanwhile Gabriel was sitting at the kitchen table, reading my cookbooks.  After finding what he determined to be the perfect recipe, he showed me it and asked if we had all the ingredients.  I reviewed it and said yes, and both boys were off, ready to make Chocolate Chip Cookies.  Gabriel had picked a recipe I had never used and while my instinct was to tell him to make the recipe I usually make, I held my tongue and let them enjoy every minute being in charge and doing it on their own.  While I stood in the kitchen and answered questions when asked (Mom, which one is a teaspoon?, What is VAN-ILL-A?" ), I let the boys do it all.   

My two proud bakers and the little taste-tester!

And let me say, words do not express how proud I am/was of their efforts.  They followed the recipe exactly as it was written and stopped to ask questions when they were unsure.  While they really wanted to make the cookies right away, they followed the recipe and put the dough in the fridge for 2 hours to chill before baking.  Gabriel was so excited, while waiting for the two hours to pass by, I think he was having a hard  time thinking of anything other than the warm, chewy, M&M filled cookie goodness. He repeated 7 times in one hour, Mom I can't WAIT to eat those cookies!  After two hours of waiting and three baking pans in the over, the cookies were done.  Not only did they turn out better than what I can normally make, they are the tastiest cookies I've had in a long time.  Who would have thought to put vanilla pudding in the batter.  Kudos to Gabriel, he found himself a great recipe and to Michael for being a great ingredient measurer. 

And boy were they proud.  When the neighbor kids came over to play, the first thing Gabriel said to them was, "Would you like to try one of the cookies Michael and I made?  We think they are really good!"  And their friends were sold.  After eating one of the boy's cookies, I overheard Harlen whisper to Gabriel, "Gabriel, I think your cookies are really really really good!  Do you think I can have 12 more?"  

It may seem like a silly thing to be so proud of.  The fact that my boys baked a batch of cookies, not only makes me extremely proud but it also means a lot.  I've always liked cooking and baking and to see them take an interest in something I enjoy,is heart-warming.  In addition to that, I could tell that the boys' desire to bake cookies, was an effort to do something nice for me.  I guess my love of cookies isn't too well hidden.  Throughout the day, Gabriel and Michael were so expressive in their love.  Gabriel spontaneously walked up to me, hugged me and said, "Mom- I love you." several times, and Michael told me to sit on the couch, relax and let him do something for me.  How nice can it get?  This mom is so proud of her kids, especially her boys.

While this spring break, our destinations were not far and our plans as simple as simple can be.  Yet, our goal was the same as those families off enjoying wonderful vacations from afar.  In a world that has gotten so full of responsibilities, so full of commitments and booked schedules, a world where an unscheduled child is a rarity, this spring break we're turning things upside down.  For us, it's been a week of unscheduled play, a week of fun in doing what you want, when you want.  And its been the time to just let kids be kids.  Isn't spring break the best?  If you're not sure what the answer to that questions is, just ask my boys and me, we'll be sure to tell you!

Until next time,

angie

Transportation Day....

A few weeks ago, I took the kids to Transportation Day.  While I had heard of it a couple of years ago,  we never seemed to make it.  And to my surprise it is a huge event.  As we drove toward the preschool that hosts the event, it was clear, everyone else in the 15 mile vicinity decided to attend with their family. After parking and walking for what the boys termed, "forever", we arrived.  

The kids waiting for the "surprise" helicopter landing.  Gabriel wasn't convinced yet, that this was going to be fun!  Isabelle and Michael, were on board much sooner.

Boy am I glad we went.  It was fantastic.  Imagine every possible transportation vehicle in one place.  From the UPS man, to a hot air balloon, a police car, to an army truck.  There's even a Jeep car with a million tiny figurines all over it.  Why you ask?  I have no idea, but Michael was thrilled to look, I mean touch as many of the figurines as he could.  He even pulled down the " please do not touch" sign to touch some sea shell bikini woman doing the hula.  Its really hard to resist touching that right? Other than the trinket covered Jeep that wasn't supposed to be touched, every other vehicle, balloon, helicopter or huge dirt mover was meant to be crawled on, pretend driven and investigated in every possible manner.

Michael and Gabriel were very interested in learning about the police car.  Michael looked around the entire car and made the police officer show him how his computer worked.  And then after that, he insisted on crawling in the back of the car.  Needless to say, Mom and Michael had a LONG talk about that should be the ONLY time he is in the back of a police car!

Some of the highlights included a helicopter landing right in front of us, getting to be up close and personal with a hot air balloon as they filled it up, and the army truck.  What was even better was running into our neighbors/friends that we got to enjoy the event with.

 While the boys were completely skeptical of my "Saturday morning surprise", turns out at the end of our stay at Transportation Day they were so excited, they didn't want to leave and begged me to bring them back next year.

Fun in the back of an army truck!

While I've learned my days of coming up with fun things to do; things Mom thinks are fun, are becoming fewer and fewer in the eyes of the boys,  I'm proud to say Mom scored a win on this one.

Until next Transportation Day,
Angie

Those endearing moments...

I love my children, but there are some moments, when I question my sanity and secretly, its sometimes because of them. 

They make me feel a rich love in ways I never knew I could.  And just as they make me feel love, they also make me feel frustration, anger and impatience.  I thinks it’s a part of the package deal.  The good with the bad, right?  And while they can make me crazy sometimes, they also redeem themselves in some of the sweetest, most loving moments.  They are moments, you can’t even dream up.

Take for example this morning.  My son made me lunch.  Yes, I did say that correctly.  My son, Gabriel, made me lunch.  He knows in our usual race out the door that breakfast is usually something I hold off on until I can get to work and scarf down a PopTart  to make it through the morning.  And then, since I’m usually off of work by 2:30 in the afternoon, so I can race home to meet them from the bus, I wait to eat lunch until I get home.  Usually this entails me starving from 8:30 a.m. until 2:30 p.m. and eating snacks throughout the day so I’m not so famished. 

This morning, Gabriel was ready as normal, 20 minutes before we were ready to leave for school.  While I raced around trying to hold Isabelle still enough to put her shoes and jacket on, and then helped Michael find all the necessities for his backpack, that never seem to end up in his backpack, Gabriel was in the kitchen.  I thought he was still cleaning up his cereal.  As we walked out the door, I called for everyone to jump in the car, no surprise we were racing against the clock.  As Gabriel reached the car, he held in his hand a grocery sack tied shut.   He held it out and said, “Here mom, I made you a lunch.”  I was caught…completely… off… guard.    Wow, I said, honey that is so nice.  Thank you so much.  He smiled, and as he crawled in the car he said, “Mom, I packed you a carrot, some grapes and a yogurt.  And I didn’t even forget the spoon!”    While I think my heart stopped for a moment, it was so struck with love, I smiled, reached out for the lunch and said thank you.  That my friends, is one endearing moment. 

And then there is Michael.  Who, on Sunday, selflessly shared his ice cream cone with Isabelle, so she would be distracted and not eat Gabriel’s.  He said, “Here Isabelle, you can have my ice cream cone. Gabriel I don’t want you to be sad that you don’t have very much left.”  All without prodding or encouragement.  All actions straight from his heart to show love to another.  It is moments like this, that I stand at a distance and beam pride. 

 While Isabelle’s moments of endearment are different, surprising and oh so wonderful.   It’s the moments she runs up to me while I’m making dinner and grabs my leg so tightly, I can tell the love she feels is just waiting to burst out of her tiny body.  Her expressions of love are shown through fierce squeezes of the leg or the face and through sloppy kisses that leave their lasting mark.  And her other moments of endearment….  She now speaks in full sentences.  And oh are they are so cute!  This weekend, she carried around a huge crate of play-doh and her toys.  When she realized she didn't have the strength to put the crate up and onto the table, she shouted, “Michael, HELP ME!”  Jarrett and I were both standing there and he looked at me in surprise.  “Was that her first sentence?”  I said, she’s been working on putting more words together for the last couple of weeks, so I’m not sure if it was her first.  But I can say, she was pretty clear in what she wanted through that sentence huh?”  And then this morning, on our way to school, her morning routine is to point out all of the buses on the way.  I didn't even realize it, but soon after passing one of the bus stops where a green city bus was waiting, we heard Isabelle happily announce, “BUS, I SEED YOU!”  Wow, when did we move onto using proper tenses in sentences? See what I mean by surprising?  It’s the funny things, the continuous new developments she shows us.  Simple reminders of how the world appears to her and how she chooses to express herself.  All innocent, all very powerful and purposeful feelings of expression. Moments that melt my heart.

Those endearing moments.... oh how I love thee.

Until next time,

Angie

I'm a little tea pot...

One of the gifts Isabelle received for her birthday was a tea set.  Along with that she received pretend food and place sets.  Isabelle loves it.  Actually all the kids love it.

The first morning after getting the gifts, we woke up to find the boys wanted to visit their restaurant.  One was the chef and one was the waiter.  Isabelle, Dad and I were the customers.

While the day's to do list was longer with more items than we'd ever get accomplished in one day, Dad and I looked at each other and knew the to do list had to wait.  So for more than 2 hours we played "restaurant"  with the kids taking turns making us cupcakes and hotdogs, steak and tomatoes, watermelon and ketchup and of course all of it was served with tea.

I remember sitting at their tiny table and thinking, these are the moment I'm going to miss.  These are the moments that make my heart flow with happiness.

Until next time,
angie

Grandparents Day....

Sunday, as I understand, was Grandparents day.  I think there is something special about grandparents.

Grandparents are awesome!

I've talked before on here about my close relationship with my grandparents and it is my hope that our children get to know and have a similar relationship. 

Sadly we didn't get to celebrate grandparents day with a single grandparent, but that didn't mean we didn't think of them.  Actually we thought of all of them... a lot.

I decided to ask each of the kids why they love each of their grandparents and what makes them so special.  Here is what the kids said.

Gabriel: 

Grandpa Chip:  Is special to me because he is an awesome person and he is willing to play the things I like to play.  He likes to play sports with me.

Grandma Darlene: Grandma is special to me because has taken me to fun places like Disney World and Valleyfair to spend time together.

Nana is special because she is nice to me and she makes awesome food.  I wish I could have a whole bunch of her food.

Papa is a nice because he likes to play the Wii with me.  We don't go against each other (only on certain games) but it is better when we work together on the same team.

Grandma Hazel is a very nice person because she lets me play at her house when we visit her and she is really nice to other people.

Grandma Dorie is a nice person because she likes what I do and she likes to play baseball with me!

Grandpa Ray is a one of a kind person because he fought in the war for us.  I think he is very special because of that.  Even when he got shot he stayed alive and came home.  He is really special.


Michael: 

 Papa:  I love Papa because he always play video games with me and I love video games.  That's why I love Papa.

Nana:  I love Nana because she always makes lefse for me and I LOVE lefse.

Grandpa Chip:  Grandpa is special to me because he lets me play his I-pad, he gives me a lot of candy and he visits us.  That's how I know he loves me.

Grandma Darlene:  I love Grandma.  Grandma is nice to me, she teaches me right from wrong and she plays with me.

Grandpa Ray is very impressive because he was in the war and got shot but he is still alive.  That is impressive.  I know that he loves me because he likes to spend time with us by coming to Arizona.

Grandma Hazel: I know Grandma Hazel loves me because she lets me do what to when I visit her.

Grandma Dorie:  I love Grandma Dorie because every time we visit her she plays baseball with me and she goes down to the lake with and one time we  got a frog.

Isabelle (possibly with the help of mom)

Grandpa Ray has the best leg to run up and hug.  When he stays with us, Io run up to him, give him my Minnie to hold and then I hug his leg.

Grandma Dorie teaches me that life is full of enjoyment and happiness at any age.  And I love the fact that she keeps me in her thoughts and prayers.

Grandma Hazel has some of the best toys to play with.  From her twirling chairs to her special chair with the tennis balls on the bottom.  I like to play with that.  And last, but not least, she gives wonderful hugs.

Nana is the worlds best blankie maker.  Nana must have put a lot of love into those blankies because they are the best things in the whole world.  I love them and my Nana.  I think of her every time I see my blankies.

Papa is my favorite person to call on the phone.  It doesn't matter if its mom's real phone or my pretend phone, every time mom asks me who I'm talking to, I always tell her its Papa.  He's such a great listener, that's why I love to talk to him!

Grandpa Chip makes the best silly faces.  My favorite is when we stick our tongues out at each other.  He makes my tummy tickle when he talks on the computer with me.  He's so funny!

Grandma Darlene has magical powers.  She can make Minnie Mouse talk.  For some reason my Minnie Mouse only talks and dances when Grandma comes to visit me.  I love her magical powers.



While each of us love our grandparents for the unique and special ways they make us feel, there's one thing we share in common.  Its how we feel about them.  There's something truly special about grandparents.  I think they are given the title of "grand" for a reason.  How lucky we are to have such wonderful "Grand" people in our lives.

Nana!

Papa!

 Grandma Dorie!

 Grandma Hazel!

 Grandpa Chip!

 Grandma Darlene!

Grandpa Ray!

Happy Grandparents Day!  We love you all!

Until next time,
Angie, Gabriel, Michael, and Isabelle

At what point do I tell them the story?

At what point do I tell them the story?

As the kids grow older and our circle of new friends grows and expands, I’m finding myself asking the question more often.  While standing at our park, talking to Gabriel’s (girl) friend’s mom, I wonder… should I tell her?  Will this change the way she feels about Gabriel, our family?  What if she tells her daughter and the message is spread throughout the school?  I wouldn’t want them to be teased.

As sad as it sounds, I still deal with my internal struggle of telling people our children are adopted.  While it seems it is only one part of us being a family, it is strange how often the fact that we adopted each other is front and center in our life.  At the grocery store, the clerk comments, "Wow, your boys are so tan compared to your daughter."  Or at the post office waiting in the ever present line, “Your boys and daughter have such beautiful eyes.  They must get them from your husband” (as he’s usually at work and its just the kids and I)".  Or at school, at the beginning of the year, when the teacher sends home a million “tell me about your kid” forms that parents need to complete.  We’ve been a part of the boy’s lives now for more than half of their life, and yet, I still find myself questioning, if I need to even share the news that they are adopted with their teachers.  For some reason, maybe it is all of those classes we had to take before becoming, “prepared enough to be a parent” that instilled a fear in me that their behaviors, their choice to talk in class with their best friends who are sitting next to them, just have to result from being adopted.  So darn it, I best let the teachers know.  Silly, right?

Silly is how I feel.  I’m never sure how to bring it up or what to say.  Take for example, the baseball moms I meet and hang out with during season.  Several of them, I only know because their kid is on the same team as mine.  We have very little in common, other than our sons play ball; but for the better part of three months, we get to know each other, while sweating buckets in the AZ heat and chasing our other kids around.  And internally, I struggle with what to do. 

When Isabelle was a baby (still teeny tiny), Gabriel was in ball and as a clan does, we all loaded up and went to support him.  Being that she was only weeks/months old, people would make comments, “You look so great for having such a little baby.”  And I was caught off guard.  I didn’t know if I should stop them, mid-complement, to say, “You don’t have to say that, see I didn’t give birth to her.”  And a couple of times, when my mouth spoke before my mind could finish processing, I said it.  Insert awkward moment.  Instead of me with the open mouth unsure how to react, I instead stared at the face of the mom, who just tried to issue me a complement, unsure what she should say next.  And the reactions, that’s another strange thing.

When people, mostly other moms, find out we adopted, I get some very interesting responses.  Honestly, not all of them that nice.  Just last week we were at the park.  Isabelle wanted to swing next to another little girl who was being pushed by her mom.  The conversations all start the same, “How old is your daughter?”  “Two”, I respond.  "Oh she’s so petite, I bet your labor was easy."  Why do mom’s always want to talk about births?  Maybe because it really is as traumatic as it sound like it is to me.  Maybe it is a rite of passage to have the most painful, longest birth story in history.  For not ever having given birth, I’ve heard my fair share.  I should get some charity mom points for that shouldn’t I?  Anyway, after having the mom ask me about my “easy birth”, I responded, “Oh we adopted our daughter, so the birth was really easy for me!”  My typical response, that I attempt to make light-hearted, so the other person doesn't have to feel awkward.  Never mind that it usually backfires.  This case, was no exception.  The mom, while previously looking straight forward at her daughter she was pushing on the swing, turned her head, stared right at me and said, “Oh I’m sorry, you can’t have your own kids?” 

And in that moment, where I wanted to respond in a not-so-nice manner by saying, “No, I can have my own kids, its just they were born to a different mother,” I instead responded, “Yes, I am not able to get pregnant.  We are VERY thankful for our three children.”  While I know most people don’t mean to say things that are hurtful or condescending, the truth is, their comments do hurt.  I try to remind myself that people may not be familiar with adoption and don't realize how their comments may be perceived.  Really, before us going through all the classes and developing such close relationships to those that have also adopted, I probably was one of those people.  One of those, insert-foot-into-mouth women. 

At this point of pushing our daughters on the swings, I could tell she felt weird.  I felt hurt but tried my best not to let it show and we attempted to carry on  our awkward conversation.  It wasn’t like her daughter or my daughter were anywhere close to being finished with the swings.  And so she tried to dig herself out of the hole she stepped into.  “You said you have three children, are the others here?”  “Yes,” I replied, there’s my oldest son, he’s now 8 and my middle son is 6.”  She continued, “Wow, so you adopted them when they were babies?”  Contemplating just lying and saying yes to avoid another “interesting” conversation, I instead chose to tell the truth (a lie always comes back to bite you right?). I said, “No, we adopted them when they were three and four.”  “Oh she said, “What did they call you then since they probably knew you weren’t their mom?”  This conversation was going so lovely, I could hardly wait to come up with an excuse to leave.  “Actually they called me mom from the moment we met them.  They knew that we were going to be their forever family.  They understood what was happening.” I said, anticipating the next question she would ask.  She realized she had yet again, some-what insulted me and said, “Well I suppose it was hard for them to attach to you and your husband since they were so old.”  I must have, at this point given her a look because before I could jump in, she said, “I knew someone who adopted a 9-year-old from an international orphanage and they had the hardest time bonding.  I remember her saying she never felt like the child she adopted was her’s.”    Upon hearing her one and only perspective on adoption, I knew then why she asked the questions she did and why she responded with such "interesting" comments.  

Sadly, I know I can’t change everyone's opinion on adoption.  There are still those mean stereotypes out there in common talk, “You’re so ..., you must be adopted.” "You're ..., you must have been adopted"    I’m sure we’ve all heard them.  I remember as a child, we joked my sister must have been adopted because she didn’t look like my other sister and brother.  The three of us looked more like my dad while she resembled my mom’s side.  And as ashamed as I am to admit it now, the truth is, we said it. Was it right?  No.  Was it pure stupidity (my boys would be mad I’m saying bad words) and a lack of sensitivity, and ignorance as to why it was such a mean thing to say?  Absolutely. 

It’s kind of funny now looking back because the reality is my extended family’s world is so connected to adoption.  Maybe it’s karma.  While my sister and her husband are on track to adopt, Jarrett and I are so thankful for the gift of adoption.  It’s a good karma. 

And that’s why I struggle.  Why do so many think of adoption as a 2nd place choice, a back-up plan, maybe a bronze medal standing (I thought the reference appropriate given the Olympics are on at our house constantly).  Why it is that when I share with a stranger that my children are adopted, they immediately express condolences to me because I did not birth my lovelies from my own body?  Oh I’m sorry you can’t have your own babies, so you have to adopt someone elses.  While the truth is for us, we did try to get pregnant, and when that didn't work we started pursuing adoption.  What is also the truth, is that, my children do feel that they are my own, that they possess my qualities, just like those mothers who share genes with their children.  I can't imagine any other children being mine.  I believe we were created in a master plan to be each other's family. And that itself, is not settling for a bronze metal or taking second place. I'm confident that is one similarity we share with other families, adopted or not.   

And so, I don’t know how to respond.  Standing at the swings with Gabriel’s friend's mom, talking about her 2-year-old son and comparing him to our 2-year-old daughter, I know the next question that’s coming.  I try with all my might to keep the conversation as far as possible from the labor question.  So, what sports is your older son in?  Are you doing anything for spring break?  Man, that was quite the dog that person had.  I try… but i know the question will come and I have to make a decision.  

At what point do I tell them?  I'm still not sure.

Until next time,
Angie

Love is in the air... maybe or maybe not.

Yesterday when the boys got home from school, they were wired from all the treats they had.  Michael, knowing I would fully monitor his candy intake when I saw their valentines, decided to plan ahead and ate every candy treat he received, while he was still on the bus.   Gabriel, while not as fore thinking as Michael, still had his share of candy too.  And when I could hear them "talking" on the bus before the door even opened, I knew the afternoon would be adventurous, to put it nicely.  What I did think was super sweet was that out of all the candy they received, they each, on their own doing, picked out a piece of candy for their sister.  Isn't that nice?  Michael saved a pink, heart-shaped sucker and Gabriel saved M&M's (her favorite candy). Again, I thought it was so sweet, and I'm not telling Dad, but it was one of my favorite valentines moments.  Their selfless expression of care and love for someone else is what this holiday is all about right?

In taking about Valentines Day, Michael said, Mom, I don't really like Valentines Day, Christmas is so much better.  While I agree wholeheartedly, I still wanted to know why he feels that way.  So I asked.  He responded, "Mom, I don't really like Valentines Day because I don't like kissing.   I think it is GROSS!"  Smiling and internally so happy to hear he still thinks kissing is gross, for some reason, (probably that darn speak-before-you-think syndrome I suffer from occasionally) I said, "Well I'm glad to hear that but someday I promise you'll feel very differently about kissing."  Michael, my constant devil's advocate, immediately rebutted my statement, "No- I will NOT like kissing. NOT EVER.  It is so GROSS!"  Meanwhile, Gabriel patiently waited for Michael to respond and then he chimed in, "Oh YES, I will feel very differently about kissing when I'm older.  I just know I'm going to love it!"

Oh the fun, were in for when Gabriel becomes a teenager!

And while the kids got plenty of treats at school, Mom and Dad had a little something for them at home.  Last night we exchanged gifts and had a low key night of making rainbow loom bracelets.  Meanwhile Dad was in the other room with another baseball coach talking about strategy of picking players in the draft.  Such a romantic evening, I wondered what the other dad's wife and family were doing.  Thankfully the "draft talk" didn't last too long and Dad gave me his nice card and a gift too.  He's so thoughtful, he got me a new potholder after the potholder I've been using (the one my mom got for a wedding shower gift more than 35 years ago), wore a hole through and he was tired of hearing me complain about burning my hand.  Isn't that romantic?  No, no it isn't romantic at all.  But what it really is, is practical and my wonderful husband knows his practical wife so well.  That's just one of the many reasons why I love him.

Here's hoping you and yours had a wonderful Valentines day!

Until next time,
Angie