i'm watching him sleep.

he has such a beautiful face. golden skin. full lips.  a few freckles. and those eyelashes.

sometimes he doesn't stand still long enough for me to take him all in.  but here, during slumber, I'm etching the 7-year old him into my memory.

he changes so often. morphing into a leaner, taller, more mature boy almost weekly. 

i'm sure i will love every stage to come, just as i have loved every stage that has passed.  but, my heart aches for the times i will never get back.  he no longer wants to be rocked, and he's too big for me to carry.  every day he becomes a teensy bit more independent.  i am acutely aware that he is, ever so slightly, wanting less of me and more of the world.

there should be another word for this feeling besides "love."  it just doesn't seem to do this feeling justice. momma love isn't like other love.  It's fierce, unrelenting, and sometimes it consumes me.

sometimes, i wish i could just freeze time.

the view from where i'm sittin'

so sentinmental...

when I was a kid, my grandpa grew countless fruits and vegetables.  his favorite were his home-grown tomatoes.  i hated tomatoes.  although, i'm not sure how i knew this, since i refused to even try one.  looking back, I'm sure it drove him crazy to hear me say that.  but he would just smile, shake his head, and pop another tomato in his mouth. 

he was so good at waiting patiently.  waiting for us to learn our own lessons, to realize that indeed, he had been right all along.  nothing made him happier than seeing his family succeed, and nothing made me happier than seeing him "glow" for me.

but I digress, i'm just talking about a tomato here.

he always told me that i just HAD to have a home-grown tomato, that the reason that i didn't like them was because the store bought ones are worthless.

do I need to say it?

he was, indeed, right all along.

this little jem joined some goat cheese and a baguette. so delicious.

how i wish that i could take a basket to him these days, just to see him glow.

This Love

I'm watching him sleep.

He has such a beautiful face. Golden skin. Full lips.  A few freckles. And those eyelashes.

Sometimes he doesn't stand still long enough for me to take him all in.  But here, during slumber, I'm etching the 7-year old him into my memory.

He changes so often. Morphing into a leaner, taller, more mature boy almost weekly. 

I'm sure I will love every stage to come, just as I have loved every stage that has passed.  But, my heart aches for the times I will never get back.  He no longer wants to be rocked, and he's too big for me to carry. 

Every day he becomes a teensy bit more independent.  I am acutely aware that he is, ever so slightly, wanting less of me and more of the world.

There should be another word for this feeling besides "love."  It just doesn't seem to do this feeling justice. Momma love isn't like other love.  It's fierce, unrelenting, and sometimes it consumes me.

Sometimes, I wish I could just freeze time.

Club Mom (and not the young, chic kind)

To which, apparently, I am a full-fledged card-carrying member...

Why?

Because I look at THIS like a teenage boy with a new muscle car.

Meet the Cuisinart Smoothie Master 3000.  Ok, not really, but my Punk thought it was funny, and I have no idea what it's actually called...short of "blender", that is.

We used to have a cheap Black and Decker model but we burned out the motor with all the smoothie makin' that goes on around here.  But this? This is waay more fun than it should be.

Thats right, I'm in love with a blender.  And I'm not ashamed.

We are smoothie makin' fools once again!

And one of us is a little faster at downing them...

fabulous find

i love, love this little necklace.  it's dainty, simple, and handmade.



so sweet
.
especially for mother's day.

the number of eggs depends on the number of children.

i'll take 3.

i'm just sayin.

friday find

a new (to me) vintage soda crate, perfect for storing my beside-the-couch reading.



happy friday!