This late winter/early spring was wonderful. We had a surprising number of weekends that were just us, with no travel or obligations. Most Saturdays Jonathan would go hunting and I would have the day with the kids. These days are ones that I hope I never forget. I would sleep in until I heard Harper Ann talking in her room, usually around 6:30 or so and I would get up with her, give her a morning bottle, and she and I would lounge in bed, playing peek-a-boo or some sort of game that usually involved me tickling her or blowing on her sweet rolls of fat. When Holt would start to make morning squeaks and grunts she and I would go to his room and play in his bed. I cannot tell you how happy it makes me to hear her squeal and giggle when she first sees Holt in the mornings.
Holt really wanted to cook me breakfast one morning.Sweet? yes. Relaxing? no.
Once we are all awake and out of the morning daze, all three of us head to the kitchen and I’ll put on some music. Usually I just put the ipod on shuffle and we will dance around to whatever comes on. Sometimes, however Holt is in a particular mood and makes requests. He is a huge fan of Steve Earle and knows every word to Johnny Come Lately and Tom Ames Prayer. He is also a fan of John Prine and Old Crow Medicine show. I hope that Holt will look back on his childhood and on Saturday mornings dancing in the kitchen and it will make him smile.
We are dancing fools. Holt gets his moves from his Mama.
With our soundtrack going, we get ready to make breakfast. Now, during the week, when I am running around like a mad woman trying to get everyone ready to go, Holt’s breakfast consists of a travel cup of either juice or milk laced with coffee and a piece of bread or a granola bar (they have a morning snack at school which eases my guilt over the whole breakfast being the most important meal of the day). I would also like to mention that my weekday breakfast routine is the reason I never read parenting magazines, because every time I peruse one of those condescending rags I end up feeling like a failure as a parent. They succeed in nothing but highlighting my shortcomings, a la breakfast. But, on the weekends, we do breakfast right. Bacon or sausage, eggs and pancakes (not from scratch mind you, but pancakes all the same). Holt will either insist on helping (our Christmas culinary training created a monster) or he would sit down at one of the tables and put his “states” puzzle together. This, his favorite puzzle, has all 50 states as individual pieces (excluding a few of the New England states that are just too small) with pictures on each state. I used this and his placemat to show Holt where Jonathan was as he made his drive to Utah two years ago. He will put the puzzle together and ask questions about the states and what the pictures mean.
Yep, we are still letting Holt use the Camera.
He knows most of his states, but some of those small New England states throw him for a loop.
He always starts out with the big ones, Texas and California. We can't put Texas in without mentioning Irene and we can't put California in without mentioning Lightning McQueen; that's where he ran his big race you know.
I can remember mornings at my grandmother’s house (there was certainly no music) and how she would cook sausage and biscuits with homemade milk gravy from the drippings and how as a child I thought it was the biggest treat when she would make pancakes and form them into animals or snowmen at Christmas. Knowing how special those pancakes were to me I adopted the tradition and once while making breakfast for supper (we do this often) spelled out Holt’s name in with the pancake batter - on that particular occasion I found myself the following morning tearing the remaining round pancakes into letters as Holt wouldn’t eat them unless he could read his name first. We were running late (as usual) and I was trying to get him to eat breakfast before school. This was one of those mornings that I found myself worried that someone might come to my front door and find me furiously gnawing away at a pancake to form the perfect H in order to get my kid to eat it. This is yet another example of why I don’t read parenting magazines - I now make plenty of letters.
I can remember mornings at my grandmother’s house (there was certainly no music) and how she would cook sausage and biscuits with homemade milk gravy from the drippings and how as a child I thought it was the biggest treat when she would make pancakes and form them into animals or snowmen at Christmas. Knowing how special those pancakes were to me I adopted the tradition and once while making breakfast for supper (we do this often) spelled out Holt’s name in with the pancake batter - on that particular occasion I found myself the following morning tearing the remaining round pancakes into letters as Holt wouldn’t eat them unless he could read his name first. We were running late (as usual) and I was trying to get him to eat breakfast before school. This was one of those mornings that I found myself worried that someone might come to my front door and find me furiously gnawing away at a pancake to form the perfect H in order to get my kid to eat it. This is yet another example of why I don’t read parenting magazines - I now make plenty of letters.
I am a coffee fiend, one might call it an addiction. Part of the reason pregnancy is so greuling for me is due in large part to the fact that I am forced to limit my coffee consumption. I have, since Holt was little let him take sips of my coffee, and he loves it. I realized that he was drinking way more than even I was comfortable with, just picking up my cup and drinking from it. To avoid him downing my coffee and getting a caffeine rush I started making him his own “coffee” to drink on the way to school or from his Green Bay Packers cup in the mornings. Holt’s coffee consists of Milk and splenda topped off with a touch of coffee and a dollop of cool-whip. It always makes me smile to look in the backseat on the way to school or church and see him back there sipping on his travel cup of coffee. What a little man he is.
I am sure Holt's Sunday School teachers love me for giving him an "extra" boost of energy right before church. 
After breakfast, depending on the weather we play inside or out. This was a surprisingly frigid winter so most of our play was inside, also, any significant snowfall was either north or south of us this year. We did have one day of flurries and Holt had a grand time running and playing in the light dusting. At one point he looked up at me with those big brown eyes and said, “Mama, I wish I could stay outside and play in the snow forever.” This was followed a short time later with, “can we get some hot cocoa my feet are cold.” The snowfall didn’t last long, but was pretty nonetheless. It was fun to see him get so excited about the falling flakes and try to catch them in his mouth. Holt didn’t ascribe to the traditional method of standing with head tilted and mouth agape, allowing the flakes to fall into his mouth, but rather, ran mouth open jumping and chomping to “catch”them as the fluttered past. He is sure a southern kid to get all geared up for a “blizzard” that left a film of precipitation.
After breakfast, depending on the weather we play inside or out. This was a surprisingly frigid winter so most of our play was inside, also, any significant snowfall was either north or south of us this year. We did have one day of flurries and Holt had a grand time running and playing in the light dusting. At one point he looked up at me with those big brown eyes and said, “Mama, I wish I could stay outside and play in the snow forever.” This was followed a short time later with, “can we get some hot cocoa my feet are cold.” The snowfall didn’t last long, but was pretty nonetheless. It was fun to see him get so excited about the falling flakes and try to catch them in his mouth. Holt didn’t ascribe to the traditional method of standing with head tilted and mouth agape, allowing the flakes to fall into his mouth, but rather, ran mouth open jumping and chomping to “catch”them as the fluttered past. He is sure a southern kid to get all geared up for a “blizzard” that left a film of precipitation.
Ahhh... that's better
On days when Jonathan didn’t stay at the duck camp he would come home ready for a nap or lazy afternoon with Holt. We also take full advantage of Sunday afternoons when it comes to napping.
I walked in the room and asked Jonathan where Holt was. Can you find him.
This makes me happy
My boys
Harper Ann got mobile around February.It is Sunday morning and we are late for Church so she is making a run for it.
Everyone knows you need chainsaws at Sunday School
Yep, still in my same Pajama's on Saturday Night making spaghetti. You might think I just put them back on, but you would be wrong, the fleecy gems never left my legs. 
I am so blessed.
Everyone knows you need chainsaws at Sunday School
Yep, still in my same Pajama's on Saturday Night making spaghetti. You might think I just put them back on, but you would be wrong, the fleecy gems never left my legs. 
I am so blessed.
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