Happy Star Wars Day, friends!
I should probably start by telling you all how rich I am. I won big yesterday at a Kentucky Derby party. Like, take your whole family to Starbucks big. $22 after betting on Danza, who came in 3rd place and two winning rounds of wind up horse races. Needless to say, I’m feeling pre-hetty good about my finances today!
How things have changed since Thursday! This was the night when the unthinkable happened. Let’s walk through it together. Here’s an ideal yoga class (below), lots of space between mats, beautiful light, live dj, best teacher ever…all things good. Now, lets try another scenario.
Dim lights, still great music, still best teacher ever, but now the heater is cranked to 90 degrees after an actual 90 degree day. Every time you drop your head down to your feet, which is every 30 seconds or so, you are blinded by your own sweat. This time, mats are just six inches apart. No time to think, just keep pushing on. You have almost made it to the end of a tough class, you can taste the end nearing, you can smell it. Wait, Oh My God, Oh My God, that’s not what you are smelling. What you are smelling is the 90 pound girl bending over in front of you. We are all turned sideways on our mats to save space, still just inches apart. Miss little thang in front of you is posed just like this:
I lifted my head to change positions and deepen my stretch, instead, I experienced what no human should ever have to, a funked up smell and a little puff of air in my face. All her cute little yoga gear couldn’t hold in what she felt like sharing. The rest of the class I alternated between breathing only out of my mouth and holding in my laughter. Talk about feeling violated.
You know what, though? This whole week has been strange. We had a few health scares at home, which turned out to be nothing major. We’ve also done what I would have never expected, we’ve fallen in love with our new family Chiropractor. Think what you will about Chiros, but this guy has total Jedi powers. We all feel better and you can’t trick a three year old into behaving better, there’s no power of suggestion at play in his brain, he’s acting totally different.
On the subject of kids, the little guys at preschool have full blown spring fever. I wish I could record everything they say, it’s just too much. The things they say just aren’t heard in any other arena. Picture yourself at your work place or at a volunteer meeting or some other place where adults gather. Have you ever, EVER, heard another human say any of the following:
1. No, don’t! Stop looking at my poo!
2. My Daddy stands up to pee and he tells me to don’t look at his pee.
3. If you touch that, you’ll get dead.
4. Look at my butt! Look at it! Look at it! Look at my butt!
5. When asked what students loved about their moms, I heard these replies:
- Nothing. I don’t love her.
- She drives and her likes food.
It’s like working around short, amateur comedians! They also whine and tattle a lot, but it’s cool. It totally justifies trying out fun cocktails on the weekend. This was an attempt at whipped cream flavored vodka mixed with black cherry soda, topped with whipped cream. It’s looks prettier than it tastes, hence the teeny photo. Not a recipe to share!
Before I do share my newest recipe, I need to be sure to wish my sweet boy a very happy year as a seven-year-old. I always worry about not having my scrapbooks up to date and not having special letters written to the boys, in case something ever happens to me (which it won’t, so calm down, mother). Then I remember that I have a blog! If they want to know how much I love them, they can scroll through all my social media. Except for Twitter, because I actually use that for adult commentary. So boys, don’t read Mommy’s Twitter feed, m’kay? Between Instagram, Facebook and this blog, they’ll have plenty of opportunities to hear my voice. I love you Dallas, you are so kind and loving and wonderful. Here’s the only picture from your birthday with Mommy actually looking at the camera, face bloated from post-Easter sugar. You and Max only really care about the cake in front of you. Eh, whaddaya gonna do?
Now for the food! I brought this to the Kentucky Derby party and thought it would be good enough to share with you. It’s an easy coleslaw that would work well for any warm weather potluck. I found all the ingredients at the farmer’s market and made my own mayo, which you totally don’t have to, using the Nom Nom Paleo recipe. However, I’d suggest you try it. It was easier than driving to the store for a jar of not-so-fresh mayonnaise and way tastier.
[yumprint-recipe id=’1′] Enjoy the rest of your Sunday, folks. Drop it like it’s hot. Unless it’s a pan of something hot, then don’t drop it, it will probably ruin it.