Flying Solo

I'm flying solo today in the parenting department. And when I say solo, I mean solo. Matt, Grace, Elizabeth and Paul are off a-farmin'. We've got some friends who are trying to get a family run orchard off the ground and they needed some volunteers to help out with their u-pick cherry operation today. So that leaves me back at the homestead with four littles. It's been awhile since I've been the only adult on base and I'm a bit out of practice.

The old tricks are coming are coming back to me, however. Bubbles, Barney--you know, those things that keep kids mesmerized long enough to enable one to quickly start a load of laundry or to throw some dishes in the dishwasher before all you-know-what breaks loose again. Then it's time to blow the ref whistle, redirect the little dears and get back to folding the laundry--all ten loads of it (not sure how we got so behind on that job--after all, outside of cleaning the toilets, it is the favorite household chore around here).

French Toast Record

I know I broke my own personal record and I think I probably broke the family record in the amount of french toast I cooked up tonight. I used my Grandpa Paul's world famous recipe, as I always do, except this time I made the recipe X 7. That's 42 eggs, 4 loaves of bread and a half of a whole nutmeg, grated.

When I was around the age of twelve, I held the family record for the most pieces of Grandpa's french toast ever consumed in one sitting--as I recall it was eleven. My sister might contest this fact, however. As I remember it, she always thought that she held the record.

My kids absolutely love it when I make french toast for dinner. Even Joel, my picky eater, says "This is the best dinner ever!" especially when I serve German sausage with it (made with the same recipe and by the same company in the same small town where my Grandpa lived his whole life). If my Grandpa were still alive he'd get such a kick out of hearing that his great grandkids were enjoying his french toast so much. I can hear his laugh ringing out now.

Family: If I'm not the record holder for the most french toast cooked (in one continuous cooking session) then let me know and I'll correct this post. I'm sure the Guinness Book of World Records will be contacting me very soon, so speak up now, or forever hold your peace. (I will concede the blena (German pancake) making record to Uncle Keith.)

(And for the record: our family won't be eating all that french toast tonight, we'll freeze it and use it for breakfasts for the next couple of weeks.)

Here's the recipe for those who are interested:

Grandpa Paul's French Toast

6 eggs
1 C. milk (I use half whole milk, half skim)
1 tsp. salt
1 tsp. sugar
cinnamon & freshly ground nutmeg, to taste

Beat the ingredients together and then add enough Bisquick or Wondra flour to make the mixture the consistency of thick cream (I usually add a heaping 1/2 C. of Bisquick). Dip bread into batter. Cook on griddle until golden brown.

Father's Day

I've made a big breakfast for Matt, the kids have all written letters & poems of love to their Daddy (including one about "Cowhand Matt") and we'll be heading off to church soon. Later on this afternoon, my Grandma, Mom, Dad & sister will be coming over for a BBQ. It'll be a Father's Day extravaganza, or something like that.

I'm blessed to be the recipient of much paternal love from my dad, my father-in-law, my godfather and my Heavenly Father. I'm also very blessed to be married to an awesome husband who just so happens to be an outstanding Daddy, too. Every good thing given and every perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of lights, with whom there is no variation or shifting shadow. James 1:17

All Tied Up

Something tells me we may have been watching a few too many old Westerns around here . . .

Happenings

Grace completed her driver's training class this last week. She received a 100 percent on the written test and now she has to complete fifty hours of supervised driving before she can take the driving portion of the test. A big shout out goes to Grandma Dianne, who made sure Grace got to and from her outside of class driving instruction appointments.

Since Grace has been gone during the dinner preparation hour three nights per week for the last five weeks, Elizabeth has graduated to sou chef in the Macduff kitchen. She helped me to get supper on the table on all those crazy nights so that by the time Grace and Daddy arrived home, we all could sit down together as a family and share a nice meal together.

The whole month of May I had hoped to buy some asparagus. I used up my last jar of pickled asparagus this past winter and I wanted to get some more canned. Unfortunately, Grace's schedule kept me from getting to that project until yesterday. I couldn't believe asparagus was still available to buy at this late date, but we've had such a cool spring here that all of the crops are a little behind. Yay for me! Grace and I canned an entire box of asparagus yesterday afternoon. We roasted the skinny little spears that were left over for our dinner. The asparagus was super yummelicious prepared in this way. In the future, I don't think that I'll ever cook asparagus by any other method.So I ended up with sixteen jars of asparagus and a clean bedroom. That's right. While Grace and I were busy canning, Elizabeth, unbeknownst to me, quietly worked to get the master in tip top shape. It's such a blessing to have daughters who are growing into such lovely young ladies.

Speaking of young ladies, Lydia has been absolutely dying to go swimming. It's the first thing I hear about when she wakes up in the morning and the last thing she tells me before she goes to bed at night. The girl can talk, there's no doubt about that. I finally told her that I wouldn't even consider letting her get the wading pool out until the temperature hit 80 degrees. Then she went around telling anybody who would listen (and even those who wouldn't), "I get to go swimming when it's 80 degrees!"

Yesterday Lydia repeatedly checked the thermometer just as she has been doing for the past couple of weeks. Late in the afternoon it read 79 degrees. She ran outside, then ran back in again, checked the thermometer once more and began whooping and hollering. The thermometer said 80 degrees. Lydia ran to her bedroom, donned her swimming suit and headed out to the back yard. All the other kids followed after her. The first sprinkler run and wading pool fill up of the season is always the most exciting.

As I was preparing dinner in the kitchen last night, Lydia came inside between dips in the pool and asked me about the menu. I told her we would be eating outside at the picnic table on the back patio. She jumped up and down and exclaimed, "This is the best day I've ever had in June!"

Today in church, Pastor preached on Jesus' "High Priestly Prayer" (John 17). Pastor said, "It's as though we're eavesdropping on an intimate conversation between God the Father and God the Son." Lydia turned to me, smiled and whispered, "Mommy, I eavesdrop all the time!"
As if she was telling me something I didn't already know.

Baby Isaac Update

Isaac hit the five month mark last weekend. Aside from the fact that he no longer sleeps like the proverbial baby, he is still the sweetest little bunch of cuteness that there ever was. Isaac was sleeping through the night until he got an ear infection. Now it's been more than a month since he's slept through the night and I've given up hope that he'll return to blissful seven hour stretches of sleep any time soon. No matter--Isaac is worth every bit of lost sleep.

With eyelashes longer than the the legal limit, Isaac is quite the charmer. He lives up to the meaning of his name, "laughter," by keeping the entire family beguiled with his smiles and giggles. He almost never cries. (Let's be honest--he's not allowed to cry.) He contents himself very well by sucking his thumb and keeping a close eye on all his siblings and their antics. I'm sure Isaac is taking notes so that he'll know exactly what to do as soon as his motor skills mature.

The other night I was giving Isaac kisses on his neck solely for the purpose of making him laugh. He giggled and giggled and I kissed and kissed. Then I stopped and Isaac pushed his neck into my face because he didn't want the game to stop. Of course I obliged and resumed kissing him because he is just the cutest and smartest baby ever. Who can resist warm chubby baby neck, anyway? Scrumptiously irresistible.