The last day of school…
is quickly approaching.
We are very excited.
As soon as the girls got home yesterday they started talking about the Last Day of School party (yes, that’s the fancy name we call it…The Last Day of School party…).
Before I even knew what was happening the colored paper, cardstock, glue, glitter, scissors, popsicles sticks, and ribbon were out on the deck. They were begging to make them. “Let’s get started mom!” They all chanted.
After gleaning some internet inspiration they came up with an idea for their invites, we made a little pattern, and from there they took off. Projects like this always make me think that we will be done in only 30 minutes…
Meanwhile, Emmett and Mike went to the store to grab items for dinner over the next few nights, they came back, made dinner together, and then shoo-ed us off the table so that we could eat before 10pm.
Obviously our 30 minute project had become more like a 3 hour project. How did that happen? (stay tuned later this week…the girls and I are going to show you how to have a: Non-Pinterest-Worthy Party.)
Monday nights are fun and frustrating.
We always have family night on Monday nights. I love that we get to do fun stuff, learn something meaningful, and enjoy one another’s company.
The part I haven’t liked is how late we get to bed every Monday night. It seems like it sets a pattern for the week of staying up too late…not to mention the summer sun staying out until 8pm (which I LOVE!) that makes me forget that it really is 8pm.
A couple of months ago I realized that our family night takes us at least 3 hours. That means that we have to get dinner started by 4:30 so that everyone is still in bed at the usual time.
Last night dinner got started at 7:30. I like dinner time. It’s a great time to connect as a family, find out what happened at school, play telephone, do best and worst, and all kinds of other familyness stuff.
Unless…dinner starts at almost bedtime….then you know it’s not going to go well.
And we still had family night ahead of us…
Let’s just say I was glad when dinner was over. With the fights that broke out we were lucky to not have them accompanied by flying food.
We had a little lesson (yes, right there at the table…it seemed the most sane thing to do), sang a song together, and then Mike and I looked at each other. We knew it was time to clean up and get our treat started.
So at 9pm we started making donuts. Yes, donuts.
Usually, I would think I was crazy but this recipe is so simple it will make you cry. And is it delicious? Yes!!!
That might make you cry too….
And then you may wish I never told you about them because you’re going to want to make them everyday and that just can’t be good for anyone.
These words were uttered in astonished reverence, “These are better than Ingles Donuts!” (the standard by which all donuts are measured in this house)
Somewhere in the middle of making donuts Mike’s glasses snapped in half. Seriously. Snapped in half!
How it happened:
Mike took a bite of donut and he heard his glasses pop on his nose.
And then there was a tiny crack across the bridge. Just like that.
They are his only pair. Without them he cannot see more than about 6 inches in front of himself clearly.
Someone (who will remain nameless) decided that a little drop of superglue would fix them right up.
“It was like the glue snapped them in half…” (almost word for word quote)
Mike needed to drive, at 5am this morning, to visit one of his teachers.
There was no way to get the two pieces to stay together. We tried superglue, tape, balancing them on his nose…nothing worked. He doesn’t have a back up pair of glasses and he doesn’t wear contacts.
In the way that Mike does, he didn’t say a thing. But by the look in his eyes I knew that he was biting his tongue very hard in order to stay calm and not let the seriousness of his broken glasses become something that he would regret later.
There are nights when laying down next to each of my kids at the end of the day is so satisfying (and a relief). On those nights I’m impressed that we made it through the day together, all in one piece, and that we still like one another.
As we lay in the quiet darkness, with only the hall light streaming through the room, chatting about the day and whispering about the things that the kids saved for only Mike and I to hear, I run my fingers through their hair or draw pictures on their backs.
The peaceful comfort of our life fills the entire upstairs and I’m am content.
I hear their breath begin to slow, their backs rising and falling rhythmically to the sound of their dreams and I am reminded of the sweetness of them and of our life together.