Tag Archives: circus clowns

this moment in history brought to you by Pinterest

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So I pinned this recipe on my Pinterest board. Looking for something for dinner tonight that was different because
a. it is too hot to turn on the oven
b. I forgot to defrost something earlier this morning
c. I am slowly recovering from my man-cold and am finally getting my appetite back and I was in the mood for something just like a Chipotle Shrimp Salad Bowl

EXACTLY like this!

image from tastykitchen.com

So I gathered the ingredients and put it all together, easy-peasy like and presented it for my circus clowns to enjoy.

Jodie came downstairs without me having to yell text call for her to come down for dinner declaring that dinner smelled AMAZING! The boys came home from tae kwon do hungry and also praising the delicious smells coming from the Big Top kitchen.  I just knew this was going to be the best dinner ever!

Everyone sat down ready to eat and…

Jodie promptly began to remove all the tomatoes and avocados.

Philistine!

The boys began to poke and peck at the perfectly amazing salad on their plates.

Uh-oh…

Daniel stabs one of the shrimp on his plate with his fork, holds it up at me and asks, “What is this?”

“It’s chipotle shrimp, son. It’s kind of spicy but it is delicious.”, I tell him.

He inspects it more closely. Sniffs it. Then he pops it in his mouth, chews it up and swallows. “That’s delicious, Mom.”

Do you hear that heavenly host of angels singing?

Well, do you?

Do you!

And then as I am ready to loudly rejoice myself, I glance across the table at my husband just in time to see him gag on a tiny bite of shrimp which he promptly spits out into a napkin. He doesn’t like shrimp. Never has.

But he did at least taste it; which is what I have been working so hard to convince Daniel that he must try to do. And today, this moment in Big Top history, for the first time without begging, pleading, cajoling or bribing of any kind, my son did just that…and lo, he pronounced it to be delicious!!!

:::cue the heavenly host angel choir:::

good things even come on Mondays

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It’s Monday but not your typical Monday where you hit the alarm, roll over and mutter “Damn! It’s Monday!” At least it hasn’t been here under the Big Top.

I’m still enjoying the after-glow of a birthday party thrown by my darling husband and my circus clowns…it’s not my day of birth yet…it’s coming…soon…but I do tend to make it into a week-long celebration. So yeah, I’m going to just birthday on…because I can.

My son is once again student of the week which means once again we had to create an “All About Me” poster for him to take and share with his class. Yes, that meant that Mom and Dad had homework this weekend. Still Daniel was quite proud of the poster that the three of us created. Can you believe that we made him help create his poster? We’re those kind of parents.

After some oral surgery and wearing braces for three years then a retainer for a year and then wearing more braces for two more years, Jodie is finally braces-free. She has not stopped smiling. Can you blame her?

Worth. Every. Penny.

I seriously doubt that we are done with our favorite orthodontist though. I mean there is Daniel.

It was that time again where I get to be a hero for at least three people here in the Central Valley.

It’s always a good thing when I get to donate.

But the best thing on a Monday happened this morning in a bank in Stockton.

Who wouldn’t like to pass their time in a long, slow-moving line at a bank on a Monday morning enjoying the impromptu singing of a made-up-at-that-very-moment song brought to you by Hazel? Apparently the good people of Stockton standing in said slow-moving line at a bank on a Monday morning. It seemed that they were even annoyed. They have no soul. What else could explain it?

Happy Monday!

and now we raid Mommy’s closet

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Raiding through your big sister’s old clothes isn’t nearly as fun as going through your Mommy’s. Just ask Fallon.

Behold, Holly’s christening gown…which was worn not only by Holly but Zoë then Abigael and then Jodie. Daniel did not wear it because by the time he was big enough and healthy enough for such an event he was too big…and because his Dad didn’t want his boy wearing a gown even if they did back in the day. That was then and this is now he reasoned. Hazel did not wear it either because she was also too big when her Mom decided to have her christened. As for Fallon, whether her parents choose to have her christened or not, right now she is the perfect size to try on her Mommy’s gown.

This gown, with it’s elaborate overcoat is truly a labor of love from my own Mommy~Dearest. My mother was a talented and accomplished dress designer and dressmaker creating gorgeous dresses for all occasions, including weddings when I was a little girl. She often told people that it was her dream to someday design and create her daughters’ wedding gowns. Sadly, for many reasons, that dream of hers was never realized. But when I was pregnant with Holly, I asked her if she could make for my baby an heirloom quality, Victorian-style christening gown. It was my heart’s desire then to have something that I could pass down from my first born to future generations of circus clowns. And so from the most beautiful Irish linen, my mom fashioned a beautiful christening gown with hand smocking and embroidery throughout. There is even hand-stitched in the hem of the overcoat Holly’s monogram signifying that she was the first to have worn it. It’s as though all the love and hard work that would have gone into a wedding gown for me went into this christening gown. It truly is a one of a kind, priceless heirloom that I will pass down through the generations.

But today Fallon and I played dress-up.

Holly laughed when I showed her the shots I got from our little dress-up photo-shoot. She isn’t as moved by the sentimentality of this gown. To her it’s just a dress…a very elaborate, old-fashioned dress.

A beautiful dress filled with many beautiful memories of a few beautiful babies who have worn it.

Worn today by another beautiful baby and the next generation.