To my Son, on his first birthday...

Dear Little Bird,

When you entered the world, I hardly realized that you would arrive in the same manner in which you would live your day to day life. You came at just the right moment. Your birth was full of joy and desires fulfilled. You arrived in just the way I hoped--you came quickly (too quickly for the doctor to arrive!) and without influence of medication. I remember when you were born, the single cry to let me know you were well, and then the quiet calm that came over you as settled into this new place with me and your father. I remember the quiet gaze, steady in spite of my giddiness over your arrival. The relief that swept over me as I held you in my arms, nursed you, bathed you, watched you--so proud of both of us and overjoyed at your positive perfection. You continue to amaze me at the way you peacefully, happily move through life. Your first night was a taste of our beautiful life with you in it.

As a baby, you barely cried. I remember how often I felt glad you were my second, with none of the colic or sleepless nights of your sister. It made me appreciate all the more how sweet and mild you are. You would wake up from your naps or your nights of sleep and coo softly to yourself--sometimes I wouldn't even know how long you had been awake, and so I took to checking on you every few minutes so you wouldn't be left alone. I had to check your diaper just as often because you never fussed unless you were hungry, ignoring even dirty diapers.

You were, and are, so patient with me. Being a mother of two was a learning process, and you taught me to be a better mother. You taught me that love grows infinitely; it knows no bounds in number or in force. You taught me to sacrifice and to let go of fears. You taught me to live more deeply and to be more honest with myself.

Just days before you were born, I remember a sense of panic at the change I was creating for your sister. I was worried that I might be taking something from her. And then a thought from the Spirit came into my heart and I realized something. I had known lots of only-children who had wished for a sibling, but never a child with siblings who wished to be an "only." I realized then that you were a gift to your sister, and I know that she has been a gift to you. I am grateful for the fact that when I and your father are gone, you will always have one another. I think your sister recognized this in the instant that she met you. When we brought you to our home for the first time, she carefully, one by one, brought all of the things she loved most in the world and laid them near you--her blankie, her teddy, her puppy, her pillow, and more--to put you to bed in your new place. She may not always share as well now, but I see in her actions towards you--her desire to pick you up when you cry, to feed you, to call you to play--that you are the biggest blessing in her life. I see that she will love you deeply and fiercely into the eternities.

You are wild about your father. Your love for him makes me love him deeper and harder each time I see it. From the time you were just a month old, you knew when he was due to come home and were desperate if he ran late. Nothing I could do would appease you until you had been held or tossed or snuggled by your daddy. At the sound of his voice now, you come running from whatever room you are in to search him out. There is nothing but pride and love in him when he looks at you.

Over these few months, you have grown in the heartbreaking way that babies do. You learned to crawl (before you could sit up) at 7.5 months. Although you cruised for many weeks, you really began to walk on your own in your 10th month, and were completely independent in the week we moved to Idaho. You grow independent, sometimes getting frustrated, but ever willing to accept help and guidance as you try to learn new tasks and communicate your needs. You danced for the first time today. You point at everything now, a skill you've only just picked up. When I say "touch" you mimic and reach a pointer to touch to mine (our secret family signal for "I love you"--a tradition started well before your dad and I even married). You giggle (and always have) at positively everything--your blanket, your sister, the animal pictures in books, wearing shoes, getting a bath, music, food, LIFE. There is nothing that doesn't bring you laughter.

You are, above all things, exuberant. You have from the first week of your life smiled readily. You love nothing more than to be smiled at in return. Your smile makes me laugh a deep laugh that comes from the wildest places of my heart and lifts me. I held such fear that when your first teeth came in, it would "ruin" that perfect toothless grin--but as your teeth have arrived (from 8 months on), I have realized that it is simply your spirit, the expression of your soul behind that smile, that makes the world pause in awe when you light up. There are many, many days where that smile has saved me. You are joy made manifest.

I cannot imagine what I must have done in my previous life to be so deserving of you. I cannot imagine, but I am endlessly grateful for it. You are proof that my Heavenly Father loves me, and I only hope that I can be the type of mother to you that is worthy to have such a soul in my home.

I love you endlessly--up, down and through the ages-- my Little Bird.

Love,
Mom

"Are you one of the ninety-seven who fail, or one of the three who succeed?"

I hope, that for you, you are one of the three that succeed. As for myself...well, let me leave that question open ended for a bit.

For Christmas, my sister {who I MISS! and who is one of my favorite people EVER! and who is so BEAUTIFUL!

Isn't she beautiful?} got me this cute little crochet kit. You see, I've been trying to teach myself (with a little help from YouTube) how to crochet for the past year or so. It is kind of slow-going, but this adorable little kit promised to show me how to quickly and easily whip up the most scrumptious little animals.

The first project was this fish. A fish with big full kissy lips and a tail just screaming out in darling whimsy.

Who could resist busting that box open and getting started? Not me, that's who. The pattern looked simple enough, and I thought it would take me an evening to do it. 

Well, four evenings later {and by evenings, I mean VERY late nights watching a lot of dumb movies on the computer on Netflix while I developed permanent dents on my fingers from the TINY crochet hook}, I finally had a finished product {and by finished product I mean a gross deformity resembling the original in color only...}

{Poor thing has a severe case of facial herpes; plus, its tail is on sideways and flops like a...well, like a dead fish...}

Squirrel ransacked my crochet basket one of the mornings between my "evenings" of labor, and his eyes were lost...meaning my adorable kissy-fish is not only deformed, but also sightless--these sorts of stories really are tragic, no?

Next on the docket is this snuggly looking beaver...

{Look at him just waiting for a hug!}

I just hope he turns out closer to the original than the fish did, because right now, I'm worried about having something that looks more like this when I'm finished:

By the way...the answer to the question: 

I am one in 97. 

Thanks, Sis! I still love it! 

"How many a man has dated a new era in his life from the reading of a book."

Obviously, I'm a big Thoreau fan. And just as clearly, his words have made a powerful impression upon this reader. However, this post is not {exactly} about Thoreau...rather it is a gift I received from a friend at the start of this journey. And my apologies, because this post is a long time coming.

I am blessed to have the friendship and support of a group of women I came into contact with in an online forum. Originally, we started out trying to learn a little something on a somewhat unusual subject--cloth diapers. But our common interest was seeded in other, more meaningful commonalities--love for family, love of learning, respect for others and for the world in which we live. As such, the support from that group of women expanded far beyond the covering of our children's tushies, and I feel privileged to call many of these women my friends.

Indeed, one of these friends yet again demonstrated that love when she sent me an incredibly thoughtful gift as we began our attempts to simplify our lives. As a surprise one day, I arrived at the mailbox to see a package waiting for me, and what was inside, but one of the most wonderful children's books I had ever had the pleasure to read! The book, Henry Builds a Cabin is based on Thoreau's time at Walden Pond. It is filled with unique illustrations and tells the story, simply and clearly, without sacrificing its profundity. I was filled with gratitude and sentimentality when I first read it, and continue to be so each time I peruse it again. So, Helene, THANK YOU.

AND...if you'd like to see a few pages of Henry Builds a Cabin, you can see it right here. Or check it out from your local library and read it to your children {or yourself!}.

"{She} was indeed a silly loon..."

Well, I failed in my pursuit against consumerism today. I bought some things I neither needed, nor even wanted. Thoreau would be so disappointed in me.

It really wasn't my fault though. It was Squirrel's. And her pet dragon...and tiger...

I had to take the kids to Enormous Rural Big-Box Store today. This is the type of thing I had spent pretty much all my time trying to avoid when we lived in Phoenix...but when you move to the middle of nowhere, it seems that Enormous Rural Big-Box Store is the only option you have for most things.

So I get my critters both loaded up, and away we go. On the way, Squirrel does this new thing, where she says, "I have a special present for you!!!" and then holds out her empty hands to offer you up an imaginary present. Well, this time, it just so happened to be a baby dragon. She offers it to me, then changes her mind because (as was explained to me) it missed its mommy and daddy and needed HER to take care of it. (Of course. What dragon wouldn't want a two and half year old as its sole caretaker?) Okay, that's fine and all. She's welcome to take care of the dragon, but the kid would NOT put down her hands from the "I'm carrying a baby dragon" position out in front of her. When we were getting out of the car and walking into the store I was having quite the time wrangling her, since every time I tried to take her hand, she shoots me a dirty look and says, "Mooooommm...my baby dragon!" like I am some kind of fool-idiot.

So here I am in the parking lot of Enormous Big Box Store, attempting to keep Little Bird in my arms and prevent Squirrel from getting run over in a parking lot, and this little old man sees me trying to wrangle them and offers me the cart he had just finished unloading. He brings it over and I thank him.  Then, this sweet old man pulls out his wallet and says, "See here what Old Santa Claus has for you two kiddos? I bet you like shopping," and starts handing dollar bills to my kids! I am, of course, completely mortified by this. I can't possibly take this old man's money, but how can I deny him what is obviously the pleasure of giving it? I did not think this sort of thing even happened in the real world. So I stand there, with my social awkwardness spilling out from every fiber, and end up just thanking him profusely. As we walk away, I have to stick Squirrel's dollar in her pocket because she is still carefully holding the baby dragon and will only rest the money across his "back" (aka, her empty hands.)

So in we go, two dollars and a baby dragon wealthier than when we left. Just after entering Rural Big Box Store, Squirrel discovers yet another creature--a little (invisible) baby tiger who is apparently also in need of her care. Naturally, she accepts the charge and picks up the poor thing. On she goes, walking with her hands out, gently holding the baby illusions, explaining to everyone we pass that in one hand is a tiger, in the other a dragon. "Yes," I nod silently to passers-by, "I am mother of a lunatic." Our first stop (following the obligatory animal rescues) was the sippy cut aisle. As I stand there pouring over the choices, I notice Squirrel is squirming. I ask her if she needs to go potty, to which she says no, but then "drops" babies tiger and dragon to grab herself and begin the potty dance. Upon realizing she has dropped her charges, she cries out, "Oh! Baby tiger and dragon!"

I keep asking her if she needs to go potty, but her concern continues vacillating between going potty and her figmental animals. She walks with me toward the bathroom for a few steps, but then turns around in concern over them. I tell her to simply put Tiger and Dragon in the cart, but at this point, she can't let go of her crotch, she's got to pee so bad, and she's walking around in this state of soul-splitting agony with her knees together. Suddenly, as though she's made the heart-wrenching decision for self sacrifice, she cries out once more, "Baby Tiger! Baby Dragon!", spreads her legs, and pees all over the floor of Rural Big Box Store! 


Awesome. I mean, really...awesome.

I rationalize that we are going to need another bag of baby wipes eventually and grab one from a nearby aisle. (Unintended Purchase #1) I tear open the package and wipe up the mess, then stand Squirrel up in the cart. I next pick up a pack of panties (UP#2), and a sweatshirt (UP#3) and pants (UP#4) on clearance, none of which we needed--at least not before this outing of ours. We head to the layaway restroom, I get her changed, and I take the tags from the clothes and pay for them back there. Glad the episode is over, I resume my shopping, get the items that had actually been on my list, and head for the check out. On the way, Squirrel suddenly gasps and cries again, "Baby Dragon! Baby Tiger!" apparently realizing that the invisible animals were left alone way back in the sippy cup aisle. She starts to cry and tells me, "Mommy! We neeeeed FIND them!"

I figure the short detour is worth my child's undying devotion to her patient mother, so back to the aisle we go. However, upon our arrival, I am informed by the little caretaker that the beasts have wandered off, are now lost, and we must look for them. So, around we go, searching Enormous Rural Bix Box Store for the imaginary animals, whose description and whereabouts only my 2.5 year old is privy to, all the while with her calling out for "Baby Tiiiiger! Baby Draaaagon! Where you?" Finally, at some point Baby Dragon was spotted, wrangled, reprimanded for getting lost and placed in the cart, and a few aisles later near the make-up, Baby Tiger was also found and saved, with much snuggling and words like "Awww...is okay Baby Tiger! I have you" and Etc.

We happily made it out of there and to our next store, where I informed Squirrel that this particular store had a no-dragon and no-tiger policy, and so they would need to stay in the car while we went inside. Consequently, no further unintended purchases were made. 


See...? A baby dragon is feeding my consumerism. 

What Thoreau Didn't Know...

I just want to share a few pictures today.

Really these are the rest of the photos in a series--the first being the one of Squirrel in yesterday's post. The little tutu she is wearing is quite her favorite thing in the universe. She also likes to wear her robot leg warmers (or, "dancy legs" as she calls them), and tiptoe around for all the world to see. One of her cousins, who is older and in ballet, just started on point a few weeks before we left Phoenix. Squirrel loves to emulate that...and I have to admit, she gets pretty high up on those tippy-toes!

She'll dance around a while--very hard to take a picture of this one, fast as she is....

And then...well, then she gets distracted...

and stands still...

Well...stands still for a second...{I just can't stop laughing at this picture!} 

I hope the music carries you away! 

And tell me, what makes you happy today?

Introducing....

Squirrel and Little Bird!

I've struggled with the whole don't-put-your-kids-name-on-the-internet thing. I know that pretty much everyone who reads this is a personal friend or family member and already know my kids names, and so it has been tempting to just "out" them with their real names...but I do actually get a surprising number of foreign language and bizarre comments (hello, comment moderation), and when it comes to my children, I don't really feel like I can be too safe at maintaining their privacy.

In the beginning, I sort of just called each of them SOMEthing, because I didn't want to use their names, but never felt like I'd get as much pleasure from continuing to post as I do, so the time finally came to give them official "blog names". I hated the idea of calling them just another name here, because their names are so tied to my perception of them, so I've been thinking and scouring to come up with a name for each of them. I had a few parameters I wanted to meet--nature inspired, indicative of their personality, short, memorable, and something Thoreau would have liked. :)

So first, here's Squirrel:

Two and a half years old and full to the brim with crazy, she fits Thoreau's description here pretty much perfectly:

"All day long the red squirrels came and went and afforded me much entertainment by their maneuvers [...] for all the motions of a squirrel, even in the most solitary recesses of the forest, imply spectators as much as those of a dancing girl--wasting more time in delay and circumspection than would have sufficed to walk the whole distance--I never saw one walk--and then suddenly, [...] he would be in the top of a young pitch pine, winding up his clock and chiding all imaginary spectators, soliloquizing and talking to all the universe at the same time,--for no reason that I could ever detect, or he himself was aware of, I suspect." 

Every minute spent watching this child is filled with movement, and words, and dance, and chatter, and delight. So Squirrel she hath been dubbed.


Next up, is Little Bird:

He's about to turn one, and if I had to describe him in a word, it would be exuberant. Though Thoreau often wrote of the songs of the chickadees and sparrows that brought joy to him, I just couldn't find quite the right birdie/nickname for my little man. The inspiration didn't actually come from Thoreau's writing, but was created when a poem by one of his contemporaries came to my mind:

XXXII

Hope is the thing with feathers
That perches in the soul,
And sings the tune without the words
And never stops at all,

And sweetest in the gale is heard;
And sore must be the storm
That could abash the little bird
That kept so many warm.

I've heard it in the chillest land,
And on the strangest sea;
Yet, never, in extremity,
It asked a crumb of me.

                                           --Emily Dickinson

He is a Little Bird that perches in the soul. Endlessly happy and unfaze-able, he is the child that lights a room with his smile and laughter and only lives to be loved on. He is the Little Bird in my heart.

So there they are, my two little wild creatures in our own little Walden. Mesmerizing, joyful, light-giving.

I know why Thoreau didn't have dishes....

...or a family to dirty them...

...sigh...

Tomorrow will be a busy day, because I need to sleep after a day like today...

I hope your weekend is fantastic, and dish-duty free! 

Kierra

"Bread may not always nourish us, but it always does us good..."

So. I made bread. ME.

This may not really seem like that big of a deal to anybody else, but it is to me. In fact, today, in preparation for making The Mister some lunch, I actually googled "how to hard-boil an egg." In theory I knew how; general practice was still unfamiliar to me. I think this episode alone sufficiently demonstrates the gravity of me taking on bread making.

I have in the past attempted my hand at baking bread. I have always done quite poorly. The chemistry of it is always off...plus, I think I am not attentive enough to manage the kneading and pounding and rising required of it.

Recently, I've heard a lot of buzz about a new book, Artisan Bread in Five Minutes a Day, and I found the basic recipe here, so I gave it a try.

After mixing the ingredients (only four!), I looked at the Mister and said, "Hmmm...that was easy..." I thought maybe I had jinxed myself, but sure enough, in just a few hours, this:

turned into this:

which eventually turned into this:
(Please note that in the time it took me to cut a delicious looking piece and get my camera, the loaf was almost entirely gone. It did not survive until dinner, when it was supposed to be eaten. And *I* did not get a single slice of it. We have since made more though, and it really is quite the yummy loaf.)

Miracle, people. This is a miracle. Try the recipe. It really was as easy as it sounds.

About as easy as hard-boiling an egg.

What Thoreau Didn't Know...

This week is about my awesome and wonderful husband.

The mister has not always had a lot of self confidence when it comes to his academic abilities. Once upon a time, he was misdiagnosed with a learning disability. It was, in fact, a problem with his sight, but it left him seriously doubting himself in the academic world. Add to that some pretty crummy teachers (seriously...I have actually gasped at some of his stories) and the charms of a southern education and you have a recipe for disaster. Honestly, I think this self-doubt is one of the reasons why the Mister is starting his "official" college career a little later in life than most. It just took him a little longer to realize that he has what it takes and to be sure enough to give it everything he's got.

With two kids and my new job and (trying!) to manage a house, I don't have the time to sit with him and see what he's up to all the time like I wish I could. We definitely talk about what he's working on and how his classes are going, but I don't really have the ability to get into what he is learning. He had been worried about a test he had coming up--his first "real" test--in an English class. If you know him, you know that spelling and grammar are definitely NOT the man's strong points. Lucky for him, he married an English major. I was hoping to spend some time with him studying and helping him prepare for his test, but with two kids refusing to sleep and the million other things that get in the way, it just didn't happen. He was on his own. He studied hard, just as he has been doing since the start of the semester, but when he took his test, he came home and said he felt like he didn't do very well. We were both bummed, but kept our chins up and said there would be lots more tests to do better on and balance out the grade.

Yesterday, he came home with the test. And now...it lives here:

That's right. On our fridge, where all good grades go!

In case you can't see the grade (or in case you also want to sample the poor sweet man's spelling skills...)

And, just because I think it is positively awesome, a little glimpse at what he sat at the table doing in preparation for a test in a DIFFERENT English class (poor man! Two at once!) I actually had to rescue this from the trash to take the picture. Sis got hold of it and added her personal touch, and the Mister crumpled it, as though to destroy the evidence. Luckily, I'm sneaky. (If you can't quite tell, it is the names of the major characters in his novel he had to read this week, written over and over and over and over.)

I am so blessed to be married to a good, GOOD man who is working hard to make our lives better.

"a wise and humorous friend, whom I love much"

Today, my absolute best friend in the universe came to visit. The last time I saw her was just under three years ago, at her wedding. Terrible, I know. Unfortunately, we just haven't had the opportunity to see each other since that time, and so this friend and I, who have been friends since we were practically babies ourselves, had not even met each other's children yet. What is amazing about this particular friend is that we are practically family now. We grew up together, meeting and becoming best friends at the age of 6. And by some immense cosmic fortune, her older brother and my older sister fell in love and were married. Eight years later, they have three little boys. So even though we haven't been able to see each other in a long time, we still have very strong connections. Our friendship is also the kind that is easy to fall right back into. Every time I see her, it's as if we've never been apart, even though we have not had a tremendous amount of opportunity to see each other since we went off to college.

Happily, one of the things about our move is that we have found ourselves in the same state as this dear friend and she made the journey to our side of it to visit. I cannot explain the immense joy I felt in seeing her again, for the first time in a very long time. I was also so delighted to meet her little boy--there is so much joy in meeting the offspring of people you love dearly. Her little man was positively adorable, and I felt such love for him, just because he is the son of someone I consider my sister. Add to it that he is the cutest little firecracker (and we are really jealous of that red curly hair, even if his mom says he has the temper to match!).  Sis took to him right away and is already asking when we get to go to "Mommy's friends' house" to visit.

{totally not sure about the camera::looking to Dad for a little comfort!}

{starting to warm up to me a bit!}

{oh what fun to chase!}

For the record, Sis is NOT taller than *C*. Even though he is a year younger, they are almost exactly the same height! This picture is just deceiving.

In other news...I need knew nicknames for my kiddos on the blog. I am not keen on the idea of putting their real names out there, but Sis and The New Guy were always just sort of temporary, and not very indicative...so if you have any great ideas, please share!

Have one fantastic day!

"After the ground was covered with snow..."

Bad day...

My instinct was off. I think this happens to all of us sometimes...that we find ourselves running on a different wavelength than the rest of the world, and all the seemingly small incongruities defeat us and deplete us by day's end. Today was such a day. I pick my battles one by one throughout the day--motherhood is essentially hundreds of daily split-second decisions about whether something is really worth the fight--and mostly, I rely on instinct for much of it. Unfortunately, my gut was nearly always wrong today...

My daughter wanted some cereal. I'd already made her an egg. And a waffle. In my mind flashed the thought that she didn't need it, but then the other part came through. The part that told me the battle that would ensue for denying her was not worth the small cost of her Cheerios. So I gave the kid a bowl of Cheerios. And not two minutes later--whether out of boredom or demonic mischief, I know not--she had passed them on to the New Guy, who happily dumped them onto the floor. 

The battle would have taken less time than the clean up. 

Later, she wanted some juice that she found hidden on top of the fridge. I decided that the battle was worth it--that she didn't need juice today. That ended in a toddler punch to the face for me, and a lengthy time out (ending in a tear-induced nap) for her. 

I should have just given her the juice box.  

I watched the New Guy bumble near the snow shovel propped just inside the door. I started to move to point him elsewhere, but hesitated, and decided I was overreacting. I decided this just in time to watch him knock it onto his head. And in the time it took me to cross the room to rescue him, he had managed to push it away and let go so that it would drop back down again, and again, and again. Four whacks to the head with a snow shovel left him with a few lumps and a little drop of blood from his nose. 

All I had to do was cross the room a few seconds sooner. 

Exhausted, I opted not to cook dinner. For once I didn't look in the bag to check the order. I arrived home to find the fast food joint had indeed included everyone's food...except mine. 

I ended up cooking for myself anyway. 

With the kids in bed, each wearing a thousand bumps and bruises from silly slips I probably could have prevented, I surveyed my home....disaster. And as I looked back over my day's battles, I sat facing the realization that everything I had done had been all wrong. If I'd let my daughter help with the dishes, she wouldn't have pulled every book from the book cases (and I'd have actually finished them). If I had put away the folded clothes, the toddler jumping all over them and throwing them around the bedroom would never have been an issue. 

The list goes on. 

Desperate for escape, I stepped into the night for some fresh (freezing) air, and was confronted with new. 

All day long the snow had been falling--thick, heavy, fat snowflakes, flurrying in circles, up and down and back and forth with the wind that tossed it about. I had barely had time to notice it. 

But now, snowflakes came slowly, steadily, falling in gentle sighs to the ground. The ground, just hours before uneven and trampled by weeks of footprints, now lay even and smooth. Somewhere, from one of the apartments, came laughter. The breeze picked up enough to bring a chill that woke the skin of my bare arms. 

It was enough. Fresh air would fill the lungs. A peal of laughter would break the tension. A new night would lead to a new day. And in the morning we would make fresh footprints; we would start again without spilled milk and bloody noses, without fights over naps and cries of frustration. 

No longer trampled by today's defeats, tomorrow I would fight new battles and make new choices and enjoy the newness of a new day. 

"...wherever there is beauty, he will find a home." {Part Two}

Well, we are mostly settled in...still a few boxes here and there. We are far from family; we live in a place that until 3 weeks ago, neither my husband nor I had ever even visited; we are experiencing weather that is nearly alien. And yet, this little place is starting to feel just like home. 

I thought you all might enjoy a bit of a tour (and I say "bit", not because I will only show you part of our place, but because "bit" is a pretty apt word for describing the size of our new apartment!), so sit back and enjoy the virtual tour of our own little experiment in simplicity....

And there you have it. The whole grand tour. So welcome to our new little corner of the universe. It's little, but feels just right, thanks to some enormous and transformative purging.

I'm so happy we took the leap. So happy we unburdened ourselves of all the STUFF...but more importantly that somewhere in that process of unloading things, we unloaded the bondage of the lives we had fallen into. I'm so grateful that we were set afire and that it burned hot enough and bright enough to ignite change. I'm so grateful for this new little place, this new little life...

Wherever there is knowledge, wherever there is virtue, wherever there is beauty, we will find a home...

What Thoreau Didn't Know...

It turns out, that even kids who were afraid to be touched by their little siblings--kids whose eyes widened in terror when they encountered the horrors of holding {or even touching} a baby brother--even those kids learn to love them...and teach them...and comfort them...and play with them...

{Simply Sweet} Homemade

The Mister is a positively wonderful man...so wonderful in fact that when I suggested he make one of our favorite treats, he up and did it...right then. Okay, so I know his motives weren't purely altruistic, but he did after all, share the mouth-watering masterpiece.

I've been trying to cut processed foods out of our diets more, and that means that there are fewer and fewer types of junk food around my house. To be perfectly honest, this is hardest on me. Just like I kept a lot of physical junk around, I also have a tendency to keep food junk around. I'm used to being able to walk into the kitchen and pick out whatever processed, fatty, nitrate-laden excuse for food from my freezer or cupboard and shove it into my face. It's funny because as a mom, I am really often particular about what I feed to my children--they eat their fruits and veggies {mostly organic}, lean proteins, whole grains, etc--while Mom hides her face in the cupboard and crams down a Twinkie.

Needless to say, with the Twinkies gone and no Ben and Jerry's in sight...my sweet tooth came a'calling...and the Mister answered the call with a homemade treat far better than anything Hostess could have wrangled up--Homemade Twix Bars. These are seriously sinful. (And yes, I do see the marked irony in posting about how I am trying to eat healthier and then following up with pictures like these, thankyouverymuch...) We haven't made them in over a year, and I can't imagine what would have made us put them off.

You really must try them, and can find the recipe we use here.

They may look ordinary...

But exceed expectations...

And are capable of performing quite the vanishing act...