Summer Post #2: My Wild Child

Remember the post from South Africa when Wendy was auditioning other families? I think she was looking for this one.

This last summer, Wendy has blossomed into a little Tazmanian devil with a supreme need for speed, heights, and other dangers that my fellow vertigo-ers and I just can't understand. Only the bounce-house centers can contain her.

With Uncle Weston in Utah

Hangin' with the 6-year-old boys, who were the only other ones brave enough to climb the highest slide, also in Utah.

Major thrills

This bounce house was at a neighborhood party

And this was in Flower Mound, the day she turned two.

Kristin (the owner of the afformentioned family's blog that Wendy would rather have), don't you think she should have gone with you guys that weekend? I see many ER trips in our future.

Hallelujah

My eternal thanks go out to Juliann for introducing me to this holy beacon of goodness:

See her praises to it here. And you may purchase it here.

If you know me, then you know my world view is intimately tied to my consumption of delicious cookies. Ask me for anything after I've eaten a warm chocolate chip cookie and the answer will be yes. Ask me if I thought our home renovation project was a great idea in retrospect and the answer might even be yes if you distract me with a chewy oatmeal raisin nugget of hope. Cookies make my world go round. So you can understand my despair when after two weeks here in Mexico, I couldn't find baking soda.

I went to WalMart the first week and found some sketchy looking can of bicarbonate. I passed, hoping to find something I wouldn't have to use a can opener to open. No luck. I went back to WalMart and the can was gone.

Yesterday I went to the SuperRama and had some time on my hands, but no kids (they were in preschool--I know, even Wendy. . . but that's another post.) I looked and looked. I found wheat germ and whole wheat flour, so I can now make homemade graham crackers. I found couscous, dried cranberries and pecans. No baking soda. I wasn't sure if I could stay in Mexico without it and almost called Emron to let him know. . . then the epiphany came: THE FARMACIA!!!!

And there it was, my long-lost yellow box of gold, with more uses than just higiene bucal (oral hygiene):

The next few days might be a good time to come and visit :)

A needed jumpstart

Emron has correctly pointed out that my blog has gotten "stale." With slothfulness as my only excuse, let me repent and start a string of posts that represent the highlights of our past summer.

Post #1: Boys don't get married.

My baby sister, Katy, got married. Sarah discovered the ultimate party: an all-day event which centers around one girl in a beautiful dress. After everything was over and done with, Sarah said, "I want to get married!" We replied, "Not for a long time," (or ever), and we suggested that one of her uncles might get married soon and we could go to another party. She condescendingly retorted, "No, BOYS don't get married! GIRLS get married!. . . Boys can marry them, but girls get married." How insightful.

Sarah was on clound 9 with each part of the day.

Wendy partied for as long as she could. . .

Then crashed behind the bar, where she could pour her own drinks.

Her cousin, Jack, just crashed right where he was.

And yes, Katy-My-Lady really is married. Someone please pick my jaw up off the floor.

Quote of the Week

S: Whoa, Mommy--why is your bum-bum so BIG?
A: Hmmm. . . maybe because I eat too much food.

(Pause)

S: Well why does it all land in your bum-bum?