because he makes pancakes...
I think this man is the bee's knees. I remember the first time I saw him was on a David Letterman show and he was known as The Naked Chef...quite the funny young man. I love that he has taken the fact that people listen to him, and decided to talk about something important like feeding kids healthy food at school. And after watching him with his two little girls...sweetest thing ever!
My very favorite part is the very end when he asks them why they love their daddy...."because he makes us pancakes" they answer.
Every weekend my husband makes our girls pancakes...sweetest thing ever...and oh do they love their daddy.
three things...
It started with my baby's bath.
She smelled so sweet.
So perfect.
Her life is so simple right now.
She is so innocent.
And she loves me.
She loves me so deeply, completely.
She doesn't even understand how flawed I am.
How very broken.
Lacking.
She just loves me.
Cries when I leave her.
Squeals when she sees me again.
It's almost enough to make you think, "wow, I must be kind of a big deal," even though I understand child development and have raised two other babies.
Audra, the seven year old.
Sitting at the kitchen table drawing her seven year old drawings.
The cat and the dog.
Her favorite subjects.
She is so pleased with her work.
It's good, but very "seven years old."
She doesn't care.
She is pleased, proud of her work.
Feels accomplished.
Has found a bit of happy in her day there at the table with paper and pencil.
And that is all that matters.
Pandora was singing to me "you make every thing glorious and you made me..." but do I feel it or just hear it?
There is this ugly, sneaky little voice that roams around.
It speaks quietly..."your okay, but not great."
It whispers, "You are nice, but not that big of a deal."
"He made you...but look how flawed things have turned out."
My God just speaks one decible louder then that nasty little voice.
He wakes me this morning with my sweet babe, her sweet voice, her sweet breath, her sweet baby buns in the tub.
He brings my seven year old to the table while I clean the kitchen and points out to me that if a seven year old can feel good about what she creates, why can't I?
He turns the music up just a bit so that I hear it above the rumble of the house, the chorus of a song that repeats just enough times to wiggle it's way to the front of my mind.
Three things added up. I am humbled.
Again.
Will I remember this lesson?
Hopefully it will last longer than the last time. Hopefully I will catch it again when I forget, when He gently offers it up again to me....again...just when I need it.
The librarian...
I know.
That look.
Teeny, tiny bit of personality going on here.
Baby girl is ten months old.
Ten months people.
This time last year I was so uncomfortable, so ready to meet her.
So done.
We made a sweet librarian onesie this week.
Inspiration was from here.
We did things a little differently.
I traced a pair of glasses that I drew and cut out of paper onto a onesie with a marker.
Then used fabric paint in black topped off by silver glitter fabric paint.
Before you start painting, make sure you slip something between the front and back of the onesie.
Let your handy work dry over night and....
Taaaaa Daaaa!
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