During the summer months, or more honestly half of spring and fall, the girls and I join my mom for Sunday night ice cream at our local ice cream shop. When my parents first moved to the town we live in now, I heard about this ice cream shop quite often from my mom. Now that we live here as well, I know why she spoke of it in such high regard. It is rich and creamy with several yummy flavors to choose from. Not to mention the building has old-time ice cream shop appeal. You’d think that this heavenly Sunday tradition would fill my and the girls’ taste for ice cream each week. (more…)
Bad weeks have a funny way of creeping up on you. Sometimes you can see the culprit of the bad week coming from a mile away, but most of the time, you’re are moving along in life quite normally, then all of a sudden, a series of events or stressors lands you plopped in the middle of a bad week. It’s funny how small the details of the bad week can be when retelling it to a friend, and I won’t bore you with those details here. In reality, most of them are insignificant and will soon pass. (more…)
Story has been sick this past week, and when she is sick, she usually has nightmares. Perhaps it is her labored breathing that makes her brain think she is being suffocated. Or maybe the fever conjures up fire monsters. Whatever she may be dreaming of, at least they are just nightmares. It could be worse. They could be night terrors.
Maddie is going through a phase. I’ve been referring to it by its’ very scientific name – “The Tough Dropoff Phase.” Two weeks ago, she adored her daycare. She loves her teacher and her friends. She learns new words and concepts each day. Her true admiration is made evident by her brisk run into school holding my hand each morning then promptly dropping it to take the teacher’s as she walks through the door. I, as any good mother would do, used the hand she had dropped to pat myself on the back each morning for raising such a well-adjusted kid and choosing the best daycare environment for her. A classic mom mistake. Let this be a warning to you, moms. The instant you congratulate yourself on a job well done, things are bound to change. (more…)
Growing up, my dad didn’t cook a lot, but when he did, it was always really good. He typically spent a lot of time on his dishes, and the result was always really great. Except for a couple, which led to some traumatizing flavor experiences. For example, Borscht. Of course, there were times when we weren’t in need of anything fancy, and he felt like firing up the grill. It was these times that he whipped up the most fantastic grilled potatoes. They weren’t his usual extended-time recipes, but their flavor was always amazing and I couldn’t get enough. (more…)