Skinny Jeans

Today is a momentous occasion in the weight loss struggle:  I am wearing jeans that have been bottom drawered since I got pregnant with Mitch!  People who know how I cook will realize what a celebration this must be, because I use a lot of butter.  Real butter.  I don't think anything non-fat or even low-fat has ever entered my home.  If it has, it certainly didn't remain so for very long, when I cook you gain weight just smelling what's in the oven.  I've had visitors stop by, and three steps over the threshold they proclaim "Your house smells like butter."  Why, thank you!  When we get to the dairy section of the grocery store Jack automatically runs over and selects a package of butter to throw in the cart, and I automatically tell him he's a good boy.  So you see, it's incredibly hard to lose weight when you are making cookies that tell you to 'melt a pound of butter in a skillet' (german sand cookies- melt in your mouth perfection).  Yet, here I am!  Ta-Da!  Want to know how I celebrated?  German Sand Cookies.  Mmmmmmm.  Want the recipe?

I can't believe how much Mitch is talking now.  A lot of the time he is saying things that Jordan and I need a decoder ring to figure out, but sometimes we get lucky and realize that he just answered us!  That's when we look at each other in amazement, gasp and completely freak him out with a jumping up and down screaming fit.  If we don't scare him into silence, he should be ready for conversational English by Kindergarten.  Yesterday he melted my heart when I realized that he was singing along with Buck Owens (don't judge me- it's Jordan's cd.  Something's happened to him that only therapy will fix), so we listened to 'Stranger in Town' nine times in a row.  Not what I envisioned his first sing-a-long to be, but I'll take what I can get at this point.

Today is a game day.  I'm excited to see what The Warriors do on the field.  Let's face it, I'm also wondering what they'll do off the field.  It's so hard towards the end of each game to keep them all engaged, a couple of them spend time hanging on the net of the goal, one usually has his shirt over his head wandering blindly, and someone always sits down right where they are and refuses to participate any longer.  Most of the time that last one is Jack.  He's not afraid to just say "I all done".  He will wave his hand at you like a Jedi when he says it, like he's trying to bend your mind into thinking it's okay to just ignore the lump on the center line of the field.  It's too cute to get frustrated by, and so it works.  He's been using it on me for years and now my mind is officially bent.  But I'm in my skinny jeans!