right after breakfast with some friends, a friend mentioned they were going to the fair. usually, i would drag my heels and him and haw about it being a tad too warm with too much dust, dirt, and dander flying around the fairgrounds that would eventually find their way into my uber allergic nostrils.
that day, however, i felt the intense desire to almost immediately pack my crap and both of my kids and make the thirty minute trek to the fun charged environment that would surely cost us a small fortune especially on a spur of the moment trip to the fair. I start to mentally tally up the costs and decide if we are free to spend the evening at the fair.
1. it would make their day.
2. surely, peyton and beckham would award me with a mom-of-the-day-trophy in the fields of financial forecasting, fly-by-the-seat-of-my-pants-ness, and warrior of allergies.
3. it's spring break. no school tomorrow!!!
4. i'll clean now and feel free to go later.
enter kelle. she sees what i'm doing, i see her own wheels turning and we almost said it together after staring at each for a few blank moments...
wanna go to the fair. sometime after 4?
love this girl.
we went for the kids, but i have never had a better trip to the fair. it could have been the philly cheese steak sandwich that we inhaled as soon as we walked in. maybe it was my first bite ever of an elephant ear...
kelle: are you ready to taste the best thing you have ever tasted in the history of all food? here, eat this. i bought it for us.
expectantly, kelle's face searches mine for the confirmation of her own thoughts and love of her beloved elephant ears because as long as i've known kells, she speaks about elephant ears the way i speak about my first kiss. i love it because i get it. i have a love/love relationship with most food and seeing someone else losing themselves in a childhood treat...well, it just makes me happy.
and YES! it was sooooooooooo good. it is a true fairground treasure.
we arrived right before sunset and started and ended our fun in the kiddie area of the park.
between keeping our eyes locked on our kids and maintaining a fair way to keep the kids from wanting to run to three different rides at once, we stayed busy.
usually, when i go to the fair, i see the crowds of people and food; the game attendants who almost harass you into throwing down $5 every ten steps or the really evil ones who take those damn glow in the dark swords and twirly princess batons, or worse the super duper cool bubble blowers and go after your kids, who in turn turn to you with a whiny/begging voice...pleeeeeeeeze, mommy. NO.
today, i saw the beautiful golden light and clouds of cotton candy. gardens and ducks and four really happy kids. i think i romanticised the whole damn trip, which i know...is weird. but it was a good day.
then, peyton begged to go in this big plastic ball of germs and roll around like a hamster. after a few bucks and three minutes...i heard a screaming, sad, and scared little peyton scream. mommy, i want out of here...please get me out.
after almost falling into the pool of black water while trying to see what was wrong, i ran over to the attendant as he 'popped' her bubble and returned her back to me.
from then on, peyton was a little more cautious of the rides she would choose.
should i or shouldn't i?
and more eating.
best lemon italian ice i have ever had. ever.
one last ride...
and we were out of there.
just for the record, i sounded like a fog horn by the end of the night. i was no allergy warrior. my allergies beat the crap out of me and left me for dead.
a few showers later, i was back to normal. kids had a great time though.
natures flavored water and summer's best food, watermelon made a breakfast with the girls a little messier but a lot sweeter.
weekly breakfast dates shared between mine and kelle's houses has become one of my favorite times of the week. friends and little ones gather for much needed coffee and house filling aromas that perk us up before the day becomes crazy with grocery store runs, pickups, errands, and dinner.
we run after kids, soften the heartbreak of a little one scathed by a toy stolen by another. we tell stories, laugh about who the hell knows, and catch each other up on the latest happenings in our world.
breakfast with the girls usually entails me throwing crap in drawers and closets. letting clean clothes sit in the dryer for one more day, and finally piecing together a meal that is easy and quick.
sometimes, ironman joins us!
if we are really lucky, we get princess and mermaid visits as well.
and because i don't have a tiny tiny one of my own...i borrow little nella bean, hand her some food and shoot away.
okay, before i go color my own hair, i have to show you peyton's new look. it seems that our little girl is starting to make her own decisions regarding her appearance.
when i was younger, i would have asked my mom to tell me what to do with my hair and that would be if i happened to even care what my hair looked like at 6. with six kids in the family, i was lucky to be clean half the time...kidding.
she woke up a few days ago and said that a girl that wasn't in her class had bangs that she wanted.
peyton: i asked her how she got those bangs and she told me, "brush- hairspray, brush-hairspray brush-hairspray!" can i go get my bangs cut? here, i'll show you.
she showed me and then told daddy what she was planning and proceeded to ask me every five minutes to take her get her hair cut.
$4.99 later (some new place was having a grand opening sale!) and this is what we have...
a new little girl.
and i've been catching her in the mirror a hundred times a day. i don't know where this came from. yesterday, i walked into the kitchen and she had lip gloss on. like the whole tube.
help me now.
she blushes and asks daddy everyday if he likes her hair. she brings me combs and hairspray so the bangs will stay just so. it's the cutest thing.
i promised recipes, but i'll do a post of recipes next so they are easier to find. i have a few to share. and if anyone has a request for a recipe, let me know. if i have it, i'll post it. you can send it to firstname.lastname@example.org