Well, if that’s the way you’re going to bee.

As many of you know, we live in two places. (all at once! we’re so special!)

We go back “home” every weekend. (we’re soooo hip and cool.)

This last time we were home, I went out on the back deck to clean out my vacuum canister (Wait? I have to clean two houses? by myself?!)

and I noticed quite a few bees buzzing around (exotic! yes?)

and then one stung me. (not. cool.)

(on second thought, maybe “exotic” isn’t the quite the right word to describe “ohio”)

Of course, I had to check the joint out.

Apparently, they decided to take advantage of the whole you’re not-around-much-so-you-won’t-mind-if-we-move-in-for-good thing we’ve got going on. (hold the “hip” part too. I don’t think we need it anymore.)

And now you’re thinking having one house is good enough, huh?

Yeah. We’re “special” alright.

Sooo special.

Photos were taken (bravely) by Mr. French.

And now you know his real name.

Not sure why he decided to write it on his leg, but it might come in handy if they are ever separated.

(If you’re taking my picture, does that mean I’m not really in trouble?)

Dear Molly,

I hope it was everything you dreamed it would be

and more.

Love,
Me

How to compliment Mr. French, en français

When Mr. French speaks to you, en français, in a Target parking lot after hearing you speaking French to your (wiggly) children, ask him how long he was in France.

He will reply, en français, “Oh, only a year. My French is not very good.”

You will then reply, en français, “Oh no, it’s very good.” And then you will go on to explain how you (who are French) lived with your (American) husband in France for four years but he speaks en français worse than Mr. French.

And then you will illustrate your husband’s lazy tongue by saying, as only the French could, “blah, blah, blah.” with your tongue hanging out.

Later, Mr. French will beam from ear to ear as he recounts the conversation to his wife at home.

I turn around for one second…

and this is what I get.

She was quite pleased with herself.

The moments of our lives

There are those moments in your life when you actually realize, at the time they are happening, that your life is changing forever.

That, from this day onward, things will be different.

For the better, you hope.

Graduating from school, getting married, having a baby.

In those moments, you’re usually astute enough to take a picture.

This was one of those moments:

It was a rite of passage.

And he passed with flying colors.

Fishing is for the birds.

(My best blog post titles are never acknowledged.)

(Just thought I’d point that out.)

(And now you’re beginning to think that this post is about “fishing” for compliments.)

(But then you’d be wrong.)

(Sort of.)

My Dad invited all his children to come for the weekend so that all the guys (his son and sons-in-law) could go fishing on Lake Michigan.

Ouch. Stop twisting our arms.

The Chicago skyline from Lake Michigan.

They caught a fish.

Actually, they caught a lot of fish.

And they sort of caught a bird too.

Or, perhaps more accurately…

the bird caught them.

And then they adopted him as their own and fed him all the flies he would eat.

But they didn’t give him a name, which, I think, is a testament to the lack of females aboard.

And I didn’t hear any of the females complaining about that fact.

(For those of you who know us, from the left, my brother Sam, Mr French, my brother-in-law Dan, two friends of my Dad’s, and my Dad. My older sister and her family were not able to come.)

(Photos credit goes to Mr. French.)

Kids: they make you liars 2.0

Felicity, I’ve mentioned before, does not like (i.e. to be held by, sit on laps of, take food from) people she does not know.

And by “know”, I mean people she sees every single day.

Except…

We went to see my parents last weekend. And no, it wasn’t Grandma, who was there the day she was born, who bought her her first doll or a beautiful fluffy new dress. No, it was her Aunt Abigail, who had a baby girl a few weeks before Felicity herself was born.

The funny thing was that she seemed to genuinely mistake her Aunt for me. She would climb on her lap, crawl after her when she left the room and then be surprised when she noticed me sitting on the other side of the room.

I suppose there’s some resemblance between us (we’re sisters after all), and it was pointed out, we were practically wearing the same outfit (that we totally, like, planned the night before on the phone. “What are you wearing?” “No, like, what are you gonna wear?”) but still.

She made her cousin, Isabelle, a little jealous and Abigail had to carry them both around at one point.

And then on Sunday, she randomly wanted to get on the lap of a complete stranger in the church nursery who was also holding a baby and Cheerios.

The words “exception” and “rules” are springing to mind.

Kids: they make you liars

Remember when I waxed poetic about how Felicity doesn’t like bananas, just like me?

Yeah, well.

Now she loves them.

Yay? I guess.

Also, I was telling someone, within the last month or so, that none of my kids ever took to using pacifiers or sucking their thumbs. Not that I really cared. They just didn’t, you know?

Except recently, Felicity started sucking her thumb with a vengeance.

I always thought there was a statute of limitations of that kind of thing. Who starts sucking their thumb at 9 1/2 months?

She does, apparently.

Orange you glad it’s not your birthday cake?

If you can’t guess, J’s favorite animal is a monkey.

His favorite color is orange.

When it’s not yellow and green, that is.

He wanted a monkey cake, but he does not like chocolate so we decided an orange monkey would be perfect.

I think he was okay with it. In his reserved sort of way.

Blowing out five candles in only two takes.

I didn’t get any good pictures of the present opening because the light is generally bad in this house.

I was teasing J about forgetting to buy him any presents and he said something like, “Oh Mom. Next time, don’t forget!” As if, I blew it for his 5th birthday but by his 6th he wanted at least one present.

How did I get such laid-back kids?

This is his new Curious George lunchbox.

Not that he needed a lunchbox. But it was such a requested item that I gave in.

We were also graced with the presence of one of their cousins, coming through with his fiance, on their way to North Carolina to get married.

And here is Felicity, proving that she is nothing but steadfast in her rule of not sitting on anyone’s lap unless she sees them every.single.day.

“I don’t care if he is my cousin, I’m not sitting on his lap.

And you can put that on the blog!”