My People

Remember that scene in that movie, or maybe that TV episode where some poor couple is stressing about getting their unborn child on the waiting list to the best preschool in the area in hopes that by the time the child needs to attend the preschool there will be a spot for them?


It's funny...because it's not you.

We're kinda' living that right now.


No...I'm not pregnant, but we are trying to register Bubba for church camp this summer.


You have all read the story about how Honey and I met. Camp Blue Haven is a pretty special place to us. Not only did we meet while working there, but both of us spent years attending, working, and growing in that place and with those people.

We aren't really the "deep south" here in Texas, we're mostly still the "wild west". And we don't use the term "my people" when referring to family and getting back to our roots and going home. We just say we're "going home" to visit "family".

But when I think of Blue Haven, I long to be with those friends, I long to be in that place. I long for the sweet fellowship, I long to relive the precious memories. Remembering makes me want to reconnect with the individuals who had such a profound influence on my spiritual journey as a child and young adult, they are the village that it took to raise me. These are my people.

Saturday night there was a banquet, with some food, and some auction items, but mostly...my people were there. It was so fun meeting their kids, rejoicing over new babies, remembering those that are in heaven waiting for us, making new connections with already loved faces...realizing that it really is a small world. And no matter what you may have heard, Facebook just isn't the same as seeing someone with your own eyes and hugging them with your real life arms.

As we were visiting, a common theme began to surface. Most of the people our age were trying to get their kids in as campers for the first time. And it is so stinkin' hard. Camp is already full, and if you are a new camper the best you can hope for is that someone chooses not to return and that you are given their spot. My stomach already hurts thinking about trying to get 2 girls in at the same time when the twins are old enough.

As I was listened to everyone's story about registering their new camper, I came to a profound realization. This is so much bigger than Camp Blue Haven.

Sure, for most of us at the banquet and countless others, CBH is just about perfect. We just don't talk out loud about choosing another camp over CBH.

BUT...if my child doesn't get in, I'm going to send him somewhere else to camp. Because I would rather risk him falling in love with a camp that isn't CBH than not send him to camp at all. Because the years I spent at CBH didn't teach me to love CBH, they taught me to love Jesus. I didn't learn to follow CBH, I learned to follow Jesus. It's so much bigger than Camp Blue Haven.

I came to depend on the special community of believers at Camp Blue Haven. But CBH isn't the only place you can find a community of believers. These are MY people, I want to help Bubba find his people.

CBH showed me the importance of intentionally spending time away from normal life rooting and establishing myself in God's love. It was important to my spiritual journey, and it's important that I provide that same opportunity for my kids.

Even if my child doesn't get in to CBH this year, Blue Haven will still have touched his life. Because CBH taught his parents that Bible camp is important. Having people to guide, and encourage, and walk beside you as you grow in Jesus is essential.

Blue Haven is wonderful, life changing, even Kingdom changing. But Blue Haven is about something so much bigger than itself. It's about growing kids in the image of Christ...in whatever way possible.

Homework - work = home

Nothing rains on your month of rest parade like homework. Seriously. All three of my kids have homework every night...even Wednesdays. I hate homework on Wednesdays. The evening is already rushed with church, and it's very hard to get in homework, chores, dinner, and a little bit of down time before 7:00.

Yes, my kids do chores...every day...with no pay. Well, I take them to Sonic on Thursdays after school. Does that count? Some of the chores are small, and some of them are not so small, but they do them...every day. It's good for them.

Since homework was threatening to steal my November slow down and reconnect joy,one of my goals was to make homework time feel more like family time. I wanted to find simple, quick, cheap ways to incorporate family connections into the homework routine. I had grand visions of having family game night and doing homework all at the same time.

I found this...

...at Walmart for $1.12. Even by Honey's standards that's cheap.

Remember back in elementary school when it was close to a school vacation time and the teacher made you clean out your desk? And then she gave you a glob of shaving cream? And you got to smear it all around the desk and draw all kinds of pictures and play tic-tac-toe with your neighbor? Then when you were done, you got the brown paper towels and wiped the desk clean? Remember that?

The classroom always smelled so good!

How much fun would it be to practice spelling words using shaving cream?

A lot of fun. Especially if one of your spelling words is "fun"...or "but"...because first graders don't know that "butt" isn't the same thing as "but".

Even the 5th grader liked studying for the spelling test this week.

For a few minutes we were having fun...together...after a long day at school. It took the same amount of time as it takes for me to get everyone settled with pencil and paper to write their spelling words 5 times each.

Butt my kitchen smells wonderful!

Some thoughts on mothering...

We celebrated Mother's Day much like we always do. We went to early service at church and after Bible class we high-tailed it over to Abuelo's for lunch . . . or brunch, since it was 10:30 am. Technically, that's 11:30 on the East coast, so we were perfectly within the realm of lunch eating times.

It's what you do in our town on Mother's Day. Abuelo's thinks it's because they give out t-shirts to all the moms, but really it's just because it's the most bestest place to eat in town.

The reason I know it's the bestest place to eat is because the doors open at 10 am and if you're not there by 10:20 you have to wait an hour for a table. Thankfully, after being parents for 35 years, my mom and dad know how to sacrifice for the family. They skipped Bible class and got there in time to secure one of the coveted large party tables. Don't judge, that's how we roll.

Which is why I was on the treadmill this morning burning off some calories left over from yesterday. My mind was wandering to summer and the year of mothering ahead of me, and I discovered something about myself.

I LOVE MY CHILDREN. There isn't one thing I wouldn't do for them. Well, I probably wouldn't carry the gaudy, bright yellow Ed Hardy bag that came as the free gift with the perfume they bought me for Mother's Day, but other than that, I'd do anything for them.

It's just so easy to love them. I know it's cliche, but in most ways they really are the best of me and the best of Honey all rolled in to 3 little-ish bodies. Most days I can't think of one thing I don't like about them. It is so fun to see their little personalities bloom and realize, "That's just like something their Daddy would do."

Two of them are more like their Daddy and one is SO much like me. Because I love their Daddy so much, it's really easy to love the two that are like him. They are good to the core. They are relaxed, silly, loving, thoughtful, and giving . . . just like their Daddy. I'm just as in love with them as I am with Honey.

And the other one? The one that's just like me? She's pretty great, too. She's affectionate, observant, smart, giving, patient, and loves to help. She's dependable and caring and will do whatever it takes to please you. And I love her just as much as the other two.

But . . . it's harder for me to express that love. She's the one I loose my patience with first. She's the one that frustrates me to no end. She's the one that drives me crazy.

Oh, they all have their moments, but for some reason, her moments come more frequently.

And I think I know why. At least for today.

She is so much like me. I see her strengths and love them. I see her weaknesses and know that they are my weaknesses. And I HATE those weaknesses. And I didn't understand why she couldn't overcome them until I realized I haven't overcome them either.

I think I expect more out of her because I expect more out of myself.

Is this making any sense?

I'm the first one to love and accept and overlook the strengths and weaknesses of the other two, the two that are little clones of my beloved Honey. It's what I've done with Honey for 15 years and it's only natural that I would do that for them.

But it doesn't happen as easily with the one that is more like me. Because I can't do that for myself. I can excuse and forgive and look the other way with others, but not with myself.

It's not playing favorites. It's that I project the feelings I have toward myself onto her.

So I need to work extra hard to make sure she knows how much I love her. I need to put extra effort into making her secure in that love. I give her the same grace I need from my heavenly father.

And I have to love and accept myself . . . just the way I am, just the way God made me.

I have to realize that God is the creator and changer and shaper. It's his power that makes us in to his image. I don't have to do that for her or myself.

Bloggy Pot Luck

I'm guest posting over at Rainy Day in May today. Misty is on vacation this week and asked a few of us to fill in for her.

Guest posting is a little like a bloggy pot luck. You get together in a common place, with people you don't know very well. You bring your offering to the table with the intentions of sharing what you have and tasting a little bit of everyone else's stuff. Everyone brings something different, and usually by the end of the meal you've made a new friend or two.

The dish I brought to this bloggy pot luck has to do with my Mad Parenting Skillz and involves another visit from the Tooth Fairy.

In the trenches

I've been back and forth for a couple of weeks now trying to decide if I am going to post about a recent parenting milestone in our family. And I've decided to absolutely write and let the world wide web in on all the fun. Part of the reason I blog is to share my parenting journey, the good, the bad, and the humorous, and all the real stuff that happens down here in the trenches.

I don't think Bubba will hate me. Rather, I think he will, one day, thank me...one day, faaar into the future, when he has a precious, pure, innocent, curious 8 year old of his very own.

Driving in the van, after school, running a few errands:

"Mom, I have a question."

"OK"

"Why is Jaime Lynn Spears being punished for getting pregnant? It's not her fault she's pregnant. She can't control when God decides to put a baby in her tummy."

(pause)
(crickets chirping)
(Realization that my sweet boy still believes what we told him when he was 3 and I was prego with the twins - Sweetie, God put the babies in my tummy.)

"Well, yes, even though God makes the miracle happen when a baby gets inside a woman's tummy, she still had control over when it happened." (crosses fingers and hopes he drops it there)

"How can she control God? I thought God was always the one that makes the decisions."

"Well, yes, God is always the one in control, but Jaime Lynn Spears still had to make some choices and she made bad ones."

"What kind of bad choices?"

"Well, for a woman to get pregnant, her body has to do some special things with a man's body." (Quickly exits the car to unload Good Will donations while praying that he JUST DROPS IT ALREADY!

Back inside the car. "Mom? What kinds of special things?"

(pause) (gathering thoughts)
"Well, the kinds of things that only adults should do, and only when they are married. And Jaime Lynn Spears wasn't an adult or married. That's why she's getting punished. I tell you what, when Daddy gets home and we put the girls to bed, if you still want to talk more about it, we will, OK?"

"OK. Hey Mom?"

"Yes."

"How about some NBA trivia questions?"

"That sounds great."

And so that is how it came to pass that Honey and I sat down in the living room with Bubba and explained the birds and the bees. All of it. All. Of. It.

It was a bit ironic though because for several years Honey worked alongside a preacher with a young family. And their policy was always that within weeks of their children's 8 year old birthdays they carved out a special time and explained to them about the facts of life. Every. Last. Thing. At 8 years old. From our position waaay back in the baby years, we used to laugh and say things like "Well, Kid#3 turned 8 yesterday. I bet I can guess what Dad and Mom are doing this weekend! HA, HA, HA!"

Now that we're on the other side of our first "Birds and the Bees" talk, there are a few things I want the parents floating around out there in cyberspace to know.

First, we will most definitely be looking for opportunities to have the same conversation with the girls at an equally young age. My goal is between 7 and 9 years old. Our conversation with Bubba was not awkward or embarrassing, and I believe it is because we followed the lead of our son and told him when he was ready, when he was curious, when he was asking the questions. The alternative would have been to hide our heads in the sand and live in denial until he turned 16 and was getting ready for his first date. Stumbling through an awkward crash course at that age would have been mortifying for him and us.

Secondly, we went in to this conversation with the agreement that we would let his questions guide us. We would share openly, honestly, and matter-of-factly as long as he still had questions. I think we can all agree that it is better to know all of the truth than half of the truth with your imagination filling in the rest. And now we know that he has the right information. He knows the best way, the truth, the way God created it to be.

Lastly, now Bubba knows that he really can ask us anything. I want to continue to prove to him that we can be trusted, that we'll tell him the truth, and that he'll never be in trouble or made fun of for asking questions. I want him to always be able to come to one of us with his hopes, dreams, questions, doubts, and fears.

Now just to be clear, we didn't really go in to purity, and abstinence, and all the puberty stuff. We'll save that discussion for a few years. We just told him that it was a special gift that God gave to adults that were married to each other.

We also talked about the fact that none of this was appropriate for him and his friends to be discussing. That it wasn't showing respect for God, or girls, or himself to laugh, joke, or tell stories about any of it. If he ever thought of any other questions, he could come to us and we'd answer them the best we could.

And, just to be good citizens, we also shared with the parents of his very closest friends that he knew all about it. We trusted him to be respectful and not try to impress them by filling them in, but just in case...

So there you have it. Give birth - check. Nurse - check. Potty train - check. Immunizations - check. First day of school - check. First visit from the tooth fairy - check. Birds and the Bees - check.

A new twist on the old crazy

I'm not one to obsess about wearing makeup every day. I would go so far as to say that ... I'm not one to obsess about getting dressed every day. Well, you know what I mean. I've only taken Bubba to school in my pajamas once. So, when I say "get dressed", I mean hair, makeup, and matching shoes. I actually look forward to having a real excuse to just stay in my comfy clothes all day. Those excuses range from having just birthed a child to having absolutely no where to go that particular day. It's what my soul craves when life has gotten out of control and what I really need is just a day to STOP.

Well, at about 5 o'clock yesterday morning, I knew it would be one of those days. Because that's about the time when Mary TuTu woke us up saying her tummy hurt and then BARELY made it to the trash can before she "frew up".

After a little TLC, Honey offered to take the couch shift and care for the "frower upper", and I went back to bed. A couple of hours later, I got up, ate breakfast with Honey and the non-frowing up kids, and in an unprecedented move, got dressed. Well, sort of. I did my hair and put on comfy yoga pants and my favorite t-shirt. I skipped the makeup. But I was clean and presentable.

We made it through the relaxing, quiet (except for the intermittent gagging noises) day without much fanfare. After watching the first installment of Comanche Moon, Honey was tucking me in for my turn on couch duty (because we are equal opportunity couch sleepers), and he asked, "Are you going to sleep in your clothes?"

It hadn't occurred to me that I was wearing clothes instead of pjs. I thought for a minute. I thought about how Honey would leave for work in the morning well before I or the kids woke up. I thought about how I would be responsible for feeding and taking Bubba to school while looking after the "frower upper." I thought about how we weren't quite sure that the stomach bug had run it's course and that we didn't really know what the overnight hours would bring. I thought about taking the effort to get undressed just to wake up in a few short hours and have to take the effort to get dressed again. I made a decision. "Yes, I am going to sleep in my clothes."

"Ok, love you." Honey said without blinking an eye as he kissed me goodnight. (Obviously he's used to my level of crazy.)

So, while the norm for this situation is for me to announce that things have been so crazy here that I haven't even gotten dressed in 2 days, the fact is that in a strange twist of events, I can honestly report to you that I haven't gotten undressed in 2 days. I know! It's crazy right?

I can't even begin to tell you what a great idea sleeping in my clothes was. As I groggily went through the motions of feeding, fixing lunch, overseeing the grooming process, and holding the trash can this morning, the fact that I wouldn't have to spend the energy to get dressed just made my morning. And the fact that I was already presentable when my neighbor's husband came to the door to pick up Bubba and drive him to school was just an extra little mood lifter.

(Have I mentioned what great neighbors we have? I didn't even have to beg when I called to ask if Bubba could car pool today. I'm pretty sure she knew I was desperate because she could probably hear the gagging over the phone. She even packed a few extra treats for Mary TuTu like crackers and applesauce and had her husband deliver them when he came to pick up Bubba.)

So, anyway, I've decided that the pre-adolescent boys that try to convince their mom that it would save time if they could just sleep in their clothes might actually be on to something. My advice is "don't knock it till you try it."

Because that's the way the cookie crumbles

Chili over at Don't Try This at Home is hosting a discussion about chores and allowances. In the spirit of things, I'll toss in my two cents worth.

I tend to lean towards the idea that there are certain chores that one must do simply because they must pull their weight in the family. These are things like make your bed, clean your room, put your clean clothes away, pick up your mess in the living room/play room, etc.

Since I am the "stay at home mom", most of the rest of the chores fall under my job description. So if one of the kids goes above and beyond keeping their personal mess under control and crosses over to help me with some of my duties, I've been known to give a bit of pocket change as a reward.

I've tossed around the idea of chore charts, assigned chores, and various and assundry other ideas, but the only thing that has caught on at our house is the "Because I Said So" technique. Here's how it works:

"Bubba, why don't you come unload the dishwasher?"

"How much will you pay me?"

"50 cents"

"Not interested."

"OK. Bubba, you need to come unload the dishwasher. And this time, since you passed on the generous offer of 50 cents, you can do it for free, BECAUSE I SAID SO."

Where I will highlight some more of my Mad Parenting Skillz

So. The thing about parenting is that it is a non-stop job. I mean the very definition of the term "24/7". And, Honey and I are . . . lazy. So, there are, on occasion, times when our sloth-like natures are challenged with this neverending project called child raising. Most of the time, these challenges come in the middle of the night (or at the very beginning of the morning, if you're a glass half full kinda' girl).

This summer, our youngest daughter started this thing. At about 3 o'clock in the morning, she would come in and climb in bed with us. She would wiggle and kick until we were all 3 wide awake and 2 out of 3 of us were really annoyed. The being annoyed would drive Honey to get up and take her back to her own bed. And then the 2 still annoyed ones would spend the next 45 mins or an hour trying to fall back asleep.

Then one night (or early morning) she waited to climb in bed with us until about 6 o'clock. We were looking forward to sleeping in that morning, despite the fact that our children are early risers. We usually count on Bubba to handle morning duty when we want to sleep in. He can get the box of cereal out of the pantry and the pre-poured sippy cups of milk out of the fridge all by himself. And he knows how to work the TV.

So, when Brooke got in bed with us and started her wiggle thing, I was having none of that. I wanted to stay asleep for at least another hour and a half. So, I mumbled, "Go get in bed with Bubba." She popped up immediately and hopped out of our bed. She seemed really excited. And I knew that the thought of Saturday morning cartoons would not let Bubba stay asleep much longer, so a little wiggly, 3 year old visitor shouldn't bother him too much.

After this incident, Brooke stopped coming and getting in bed with us. We felt victorious as parents for making it through another "phase". Until, the first week of school. Mary TuTu woke up early one morning and found us getting dressed so that we could start the day. We told her that she was up too early and that she needed to go back and get in her bed. She informed us that she was scared because Brooke was gone from their room. She said, "I think she's sleeping with Bubba."

When it was time for the kids to wake up, we went in and found Brooke in Bubba's bed just as Mary TuTu had suspected. When we asked them about it, Bubba said,"Yeah, she does it all the time. She usually comes in around midnight."

Just as soon as I get caught up on my sleep, I'm gonna have a talk with that girl.

So it really is me...

In an effort to redeem myself from the aforementioned tooth fairy incident...Bubba lost another tooth yesterday. He put it under his pillow last night, and low and behold, she showed up on time! I asked Bubba why he thought she came on time and he said that this tooth came from the not-cursed side. Oh, I thought it was because Honey has a better memory than me!

Go ahead and give it to me now...

my Mother of the Year Award, that is. Bubba lost his third tooth last Thursday evening. He let me pull it right before we left for baseball practice. He went to practice biting a tissue in his mouth to stop the bleeding, but he played like a champ!

Friday morning, he woke up early, found me on the computer...and pulled out his prized tooth still in the zip-loc we'd put it in. The tooth fairy had forgotten to come! His tooth was still right there under his pillow where he left it. He was disappointed but decided to make the best of it and take the tooth to school to show his friends.

But bloggy friends, I haven't told you everything...here's my deepest, darkest secret: this is the second time the tooth fairy has forgotten to visit our house. I mean he's only lost three teeth, and it's not like they are falling out two and three at a time, but there were quite a few millennium babies, so I understand that she is probably busy and just plain tired from dealing with the rash of tooth loosing that is bound to be going on right now.

The last time, I convinced him that I was jealous that the tooth fairy was getting all of his teeth, so she left it for me and I gave him a dollar for it and that seemed to be the end of it.

This time, he confided in me his theory about why the tooth fairy didn't visit for the second time. You see, he remembers quite clearly which side of his mouth the tooth came from last time there was a missed visit and apparently this latest tooth came from the same side. He thinks that there is a curse on that particular side of his mouth and the tooth fairy doesn't want teeth from that side. I could only agree that it was a good theory and said that she sure did miss out on a clean, healthy tooth.

So, Friday evening I made sure that the tooth fairy knew that she'd fallen down on the job the previous night and that she'd better at least send a note explaining herself the next time she failed to show up on the appropriate night. I'm tired of making excuses for her.

More Mad Parenting Skillz

Actually, it's more like a public announcement. I took Bubba to the dentist today. I was so proud to tell them that I bought Bubba some kid mouth wash to help keep his teeth healthy. The dentist proceeded to inform me that our particular brand of mouthwash had been recalled. Yes, I have allowed my child to ingest almost 2 entire bottles of a mouthwash that has been recalled.


If your family has been using this particular kind of Listerine mouthwash, go here to read everything you need to know.

So Y'all Can Bear Witness To My Mad Parenting Skillz

We drive a mini-van. (Yes, a mini-van. I got over my smug, I'll-never-drive-a-mini-van phase the minute I saw the four door, one touch automatic sliding side door, keyless entry wonder that we bought the summer I was pregnant with the girls.) The seating in our van is arranged with two front captain's seats, followed by two captain's chairs in the middle, and a bench seat in the third row. For three loooong years, Bubba has been banished to the third row where it is hard to hear or be heard over the wind noise/twin chatter/Vegi-Tales singing extravaganza. The girls have occupied the two captain's chairs in the middle since before they were born. (We had their carrier/car seats installed a good month before they came.) At first this was a necessity. We needed to be able to load and unload the girls easily and also be able to reach them while sitting in the front seats.

The problem with this arrangement has only revealed itself in the last few months. I laugh when I read the stories that BooMama tells about her son that TALKS! IN! ALL! CAPS! AND! EXCLAMATIONS!. I have two of my own offspring that talk the same way. This habit is irritating at best, and it is never more annoying than in the car. Such a loud, continuous noise in such a small, compact space would make anyone want to go to the salvage yard and have them shave off the top of the van making it the first convertible minivan with an automatic sliding side door.

With all the noise going on in the middle seat, Bubba has a hard time being a part of the conversation waaaay back in the third row. Honey and I can barely hear ourselves decide where we are going out to eat for supper with all of the "MOMMY, ISN'T THAT TREE JUST SO, SO PRETTY! DADDY, DID YOU SEE THAT TREE? IT'S JUST SO, SO BUTIFUL!" (That's the girl version. Slightly less choppy, slightly more adjectives like pretty and butiful, slightly more words squeezed in between breaths, and just as loud.)

Things like, "You need to make your voice quieter." and "Use your inside voice." and "I'm sitting right here beside you." just don't register in the brains of 3 yr olds.

I recently decided to try an experiment. We moved Brooke and Mary TuTu to the third row and let Bubba start sitting in the middle row. Yes, it is a little harder to get the girls buckled in, and yes, they are far, far from reach when I need to "touch" them to get their attention, but, oh, the blissful peace that comes when I am driving down the road and hear my girls talk to me at a normal decibel. More than once over the past two weeks, I've been able to hear myself think as I sit in the driver's seat, "Man, Girl! You got some mad parenting skillz!"

Sage Advice

The person who says that children "don't really know what is going on half the time" is a fool, and probably doesn't even know a child, personally. Go ahead, write it down, I'll wait.

My children know. And they aren't genious, Einsteins either. They are pretty much normal, everyday, bright, easy to get along with children. But, they see everything, hear everything, and fill in between the lines to hear things that aren't said.

This has been demonstrated to me several times in many situations over the past few weeks, but I will share with you one instance that happened this morning. It's not too serious or personal to share, but it makes my point.

My children know, somehow they know, without me saying a word, they know. They know I have just spent 30 minutes cleaning their bathroom. They know that each time I clean their bathroom, I put out fresh hand towels. They know that after I clean, I like to take a shower. They even know the days that I will spend a few extra minutes showering so I can shave (both legs). They know the precise moment that I will step out of the shower, dripping wet, pretty much defenseless and helpless, to barge in and confess that they have made a mess. (Usually it is one twin "confessing" for the other one.) They know exactly how long they have to run and hide while I "make myself presentable" to walk across the house and check out the mess.

Here is what they don't know: Which tube of cream they were putting on each other. How it got all over both of the fresh hand towels. If there was anything in the toilet when they hurriedly flushed it as I rounded the corner.

How do I know that they know? Because this kind of thing rarely happens when I'm out of the shower, fully dry and dressed. Because, I was looking for the Desitin just the other day and couldn't, for the life of me, find it anywhere. Every time I put out fresh hand towels, they get messed up within the first 45 minutes. Every. Stinkin'.Time.

Mom Hints

I was visiting with a friend a few weeks ago and she asked if I had any secrets for getting toddlers to eat vegetables. Of course, I then had to admit that our vegetable consumption usually comes in the form of ketchup.

But, since we talked, I have found something that works on kids and adults (me) alike! Are you ready for my mom hint?

Grow them yourselves! Yes, we have a vegetable garden and it is actually growing edible vegetables! I'm growing food! I'm. Growing. Food!

Well, actually God's growing it, but he's using my backyard! It's really fun!

Honey comes home and asks, "What are we having for supper?" and I say "I don't know let's go and see what is in the garden!" We are cooking at home more this summer than we have in a long time!

And the kids love it! Bubba will usually not touch zucchinni, but the other night I fixed it. As soon as I set it in front of him, he started in with, "I hhhate zucchinni!"

I excitedly replied, "It's what we grew in the garden, try it!"

A couple of minutes later I hear, "Umm, this is good!"

Brooke will eat a whole cucumber by herself as long as I have some Ranch to dip it in!

Mary TuTu is still pretty much a green bean girl only. Thank goodness we are growing those, too! Those are my favorite to eat, but my least favorite to pick. Now if I can teach Mary TuTu how to pick them without killing the entire bush. . .