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So here I am, sitting in McDonald’s play place trying to pretend that this pack of sliced apples actually taste like apples.  So far?  I’m not succeeding.

I’m babysitting my two sweet boys for most of the evening, and I had big plans of OUTSIDE.  I have been dying to mow our grass.  I have a husband who is more than willing to mow it, but I’ve got it in my head that it will be good exercise and I’ll think that it is fun.  I’m not sure where that idea came from, but I’m going to see it through.  Anyway, I was going to keep the boys outside until dark.  The park, swings, playing basketball in our driveway, jumping over our bushes, tag, and maybe even lightning bugs.  But then April laughed at me and sent a gigantic rain storm.  Boo.

They played inside with legos for 2.6 seconds.  Then switched to army men for about half of a second.  They threw bouncy balls around my house.  They tried to convince me to “referee” their wrestling match.  And then they pretended to be Woody on the Wii.  When they requested to watch Spongebob, I knew I couldn’t take it any more.  That sponge needs to grow up.

So that was the first hour.

Then inspiration hit.  I strapped them in the car and drove thirty minutes to the nearest McDonald’s with a play place inside.  They scarfed down their kids meals, then dove right into the kid-infested play place.

When I was little, the McDonald’s play place was the thing dreams were made of.  And if it had a ball pit?  Oh my word.  Heaven.   But now?

I could barely eat my food because of the smell of moldy socks.  And you know the little boy head stink?  It’s super prevalent.  And those slides are sticky with I don’t want to know what.  And I’m having pretty interesting convos with the natives.

little girl: Excuse me, ma’am?  Your son just told me to be quiet.

me: Oh.

little girl: *pout*

*five minutes later*

little girl:  Your son is the one in the striped shirt.

me:  Oh.

little girl: *pout*

Tattling is the gossip of the five-year-old crowd and I will have none of it.

And may I say, if you are a parent with 23 kids in the play place and LOUDLY proclaim that you’re about to bring them all ice cream cones, please go ahead and buy the two little boys with the lame baby sitter some ice cream.  And bring the baby sitter one of those fake frappuccino things.  I need some caffeine to get me through this mold headache.

And on that lovely note, I’ve got to go take care of my boys.  The older one is showing all the kids with the ice cream cones how he can body slam his younger brother to the ground.  Sweet.

~Whitney

I’m typing this blog post with sore arm muscles and a new found obsession.  Shrubbery.  ”Yes, shrubberies are my trade.  I’m a shrubber. My name is Roger the Shrubber.”  Monty Python, anyone?

In our first home, we had a piece of land that two swipes of a push mower would take care of.  Now, we have quite a bit more.  My baby giant brother is trying to save his money to buy a gun (he’s a country boy through and through!), so he’s been asking if we’d hire him to mow our lawn.  Although I wish he was still little enough to want to save up for a new pack of legos, we hired him on the spot.

Timothy was working late, so my dad, brother, and I tackled our yard.  My brother did the mowing and my dad handed me a gigantic bush trimming power tool.  Boom.

Our shrubs were looking a little scraggly.  My dad offered to clean them up, but no way!  I’m a DIY-loving homeowner.  I’m tackling these shrubs if it’s the last thing I do.  About three bushes in, I got over my fear of bugs.  It got a lot easier after that.

The previous homeowners made some questionable shrub-shaping decisions.  From the bushes in the picture above that look like a buzz cut to the one below that is nearly six feet across and is shaped into a big sloping thing.

Oh, and there was the life-sized bush at the side of our house.  My brother tried to convince me to sculpt the bush to look like him.  Umm, maybe next time.

After some shrubbery research, I decided to go for the rounded shrub shape.  And I’m pretty sure that is the most interesting sentence I’ve ever written.  If you’re still reading I’d give you a cookie.  Below is some of my bush handiwork.  Be prepared to be amazed.

Okay, maybe it wasn’t the most life-altering change, but it is a bit better, no?  I just barely rounded the tops because I was scared of hacking them up. And that big sloping thing?  Yikes.  I don’t know if I made it better or worse.  It looks like it’s had a bad haircut and is in the middle of growing its bangs out.  Poor shrubbery.

Oh, and I also did some weeding.  At our first house, we only experienced one weed.  Which was a pretty awesome weed.  And then our neighbor cut it down.  Whatevs.

So ripping these weeds out felt like a pretty big deal.  I keep waiting for the newness of this house to wear off and for each “first” to feel less monumental.  But it’s not happening.  And for that I’m so glad.

Timothy is kind of wanting us to get into gardening.  And I don’t know if I can keep my fear of bugs and dirt held at bay long enough to conquer a garden.  What about you guys?  Do any of you garden?  Or enjoy shaping your shrubs?  Or take pictures of your first weeds?  I’d love to hear.

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You know that whole S.A.D. thing?  Seasonal affective disorder?  I’m pretty sure I have it.  Or at least had it.  Today feels like the first day of spring and I am a new woman.  We slept with the windows open last night, and I woke up to birds at 6 a.m.  Crazy, crazy, crazy loud birds.  They must have been suffering from S.A.D., too, and wanted the world to know that spring had come.

But for some reason?  Those birds didn’t even make me mad.  My mom even asked why I’m so chipper and nice today, it being a Monday and all.  I don’t know.  But spring.  Spring, spring, spring.  Has it ever been so beautiful?!

I feel like just hanging outside with the super zealous birds.  Or clean my house.  Or go bake some bread from scratch.  Or plant a garden.  Or give up gluten.  Wait, that was definitely one too far.

Spring has sprung and I’ve never been happier.

What are you looking forward to this spring?

~Whitney

This weekend I went to a ladies conference in Michigan.  It was one of the absolute best I’ve been to!  So encouraging, uplifting, and just plain ol’ fun.  Timothy, of course, stayed at home because he’s not a lady.  Thank goodness.

Before I left, I showed him where all our snacks are.  I had lunches (yes, plural) and dinner for each day I was gone in the refrigerator.  All on the top shelf.  Lined up neatly.  Sometimes boys just need a little help.  Especially in the food department.

As I’ve said before, I am an Administrative Assistant, but I also baby-sit two little boys.  It took a few days of “nudging,” but I got Timothy to agree to baby-sit the boys in my absence so their family wouldn’t have to find other arrangements.  He was a little dubious about the whole thing.  We had a run-down of how it would go many times before I left.  The morning of Operation: Baby-sit, Timothy called me a couple times while I was on the road.

He: Do I need to feed them?

She: If they’re hungry, then yes.

He: About the school thing, do we need to leave at 8:00 or be there at 8:00?

She: We live one minute from the school – it doesn’t really make a difference.  But you will have to tie the youngest one’s shoes.

He: Oh man.  Really?  Hmmm.  Okay, I got this.

And then later that night, when he had the whole house to his lonely self:

He:  I’m lonely.  And I’m eating the roast you left me.  And watching basketball.  I feel like a caveman.  Like a lost caveman.  All I know is meat and basketball.  When are you coming home?

All I gotta say is, it’s good to be needed.

~Whitney

Today is my day off work, and I had big plans of dishwashing, laundry, dusting, mopping, scrubbing … you know, the fun stuff.  My brother spent the night last night, so I was going to get up early and take him and the boys I babysit to school, and then get started for the day.  But all that changed at about 5:30 am when we found out that it was a SNOW DAY!

So I’m currently cuddled up in our man cave in the basement, drinking coffee and knitting while my brother is having a movie marathon.  When I go upstairs to get another cookie, I put a dish in the dishwasher, just to feel like I’m accomplishing something.  Super productive day.

Last night I finished my brother’s bearded hat, and pictures will shortly follow.  I gotta admit, it cracks me up.  He looks like a lumberjack.

What do you like to do on snow days?  Do you use those days to be productive? Or do you let the mess pile up and knit instead?  Obviously I’m the latter.

~Whitney