the weekly 'what's up.'

this week has been a little less eventful than the last few, thank goodness.

finneas busted out his second tooth:

 

penelope, my sister and i spent saturday morning visiting the farmer's market.  in the whole place, there was only one dozen eggs to be had, which was a bit of a bummer.  but i didn't run into any conspiracy theorists who were all 'BOO ON POPULATION GROWTH!', so the trip on the whole was more successful than past trips.

on wednesday, we spent a hot afternoon driving down to trader joe's, where the kids did extremely well.  i'll have to tell you sometime about how the trip almost ended with me peeing myself.  but that's a story for another day.  in the meantime, i'll just share that i took the camera with me, hoping to get one of those adorable grocery store shots that i'm positive i'll love to look back on in fifty years because it captures our life right now.  instead, other than taking a picture of a can of tomatoes because i thought the packaging was pretty, this is the only photo i left with:

penelope thought he was moses.  makes sense.  i heard somewhere that in addition to bringing the ten commandments down the mountain, moses also had a few cartons of greek yogurt in the pockets of his robe.  i mean, overalls.

and other than not roasting to death in the heatwave (my clothing melted to my clothesline, no lie), we haven't been up to much else.  kind of like this squirrel i couldn't be more fascinated by:

he was so hot yesterday that he'd make the rounds around our deck railing, leaning against the cool deck cap and airing out his manly-bits.  once the deck cap got warm from him leaning on it, he'd go to the next one and do the same thing. 

i'd typically wrap this up with a 'what were you up to this week?' kind of thing, but i think i'd just like to leave you with that image of a squirrel dangling his junk instead.  happy weekend.

why it sometimes sucks to have a christian husband.

usually, i'm really glad my husband is a hardcore bible-believing, jesus-loving, church-going kind of guy.  you know, like when he follows biblical teachings to lay down his life for us, prioritizes letting me stay home with our kids, and lets me eat the last bite (or whole carton) of ben and jerry's without complaining.  like when he gets home from work tired but still helps me clean up the kitchen and puts our kids to bed so i can end my day.  like when he puts his hands on us and prays for us and reads scripture to us and shares the things he's learning in his walk with god.

but sometimes it kind of sucks.

i have these terra cotta bowls i brought back from our honeymoon in jamaica.  other than a pound of coffee and a onesie for our yet-to-be-born offspring, they're the only thing i brought back.  so not only are they pretty much the coolest things ever to look at, they're sentimental.

i decided to be all Generous and Nesting Christian Mom and hang one of them on the wall in the kids' room, where it would look awesome.  however, not having any hooks that would hold it securely, i set it on the piano bench to wait until next week when i can get to hobby lobby.  yes, i sat it on the piano bench.  i think we can all see where this is going.

i came up the stairs from changing over the laundry, and atticus is all, sissy broke your thing.  penelope, of course, is nowhere to be found.  when i investigate what 'thing' it was that broke, it was the smaller of the two bowls.  cracked right down the middle.  because it's bound around the edges with some kind of twiney hempy stuff (it's from jamaica, so i'm guessing it's hemp) so i can't separate it far enough to get glue in there.  it's probably a goner.

and my stomach dropped and my face got all hot and i kept it together in front of the kids, but inside i was all THAT IS MINE! WHY CAN'T YOU BREAK YOUR OWN STUFF?!?!  i can't have anything nice.  everything gets ruined and no one even feels bad about it, they're just off ruining the next thing.  blahblahblah so on and so forth.

so i led penelope in an apology and then i called todd and cried about it.  it's sentimental.  it's mine.  she knew it was off limits.  it's not just the bowl, but what it represents: no boundaries between my adult life and the life the kids get to take over.  nothing is sacred.  blah blah blah so on and so forth.

and i'm expecting todd to be all, 'yeah i'm really sorry that must suck i'm with you.'  instead he was all, yeah i'm really sorry that must suck.  i bet that's part of what god talks about when he says that motherhood is a sanctifying calling: you become more christlike in learning what it feels like to have nice stuff that means a lot to you and have all your kids ruin it and not even care and you're left to fix the pieces.'

and i'm all, i don't want your christian mumbogumbo.  right now i'd rather just be pissed and risk going to hell if it worked that way.  which is the whole part of having a christian husband that sucks: he shows me by his example and encouragement that there are opportunities to learn about god at every turn.  and sometimes i don't feel like learning about god, i FEEL like throwing a tantrum.

god uses real-life metaphors all the time in scripture, like that time he had hosea marry a dirty hobag to illustrate how god felt sometimes being covenanted (married) to israel.  but i bet hosea was sometimes like, but god i don't want to be married to a hobag.  i just want to do my own thing and let you sanctify someone else, illustrate yourself in someone else's life.

BUT.  i suppose why that's why god has blessed me with a christian husband: because more often than not, without a voice of reason speaking words from scripture and through the holy spirit, i'd probably just do my own thing, wallowing and complaining and kicking the wall and stuff.  and it's not easy to get out of that ditch, even when someone else is there to encourage me (and sometimes even HARDER when i'm all like, don't tell me what to do i'm going to be a dirty rotten sinner instead thankyouverymuch).  but he puts the hard work in to encourage me, and i'm grateful for that.  so i suppose it doesn't suck so bad.  or at all.

video vednesday: sit sit sit sit sit on you.

my garden. i mean, minifarm. i mean, garden.

stuff is actually growing in my garden! which is sweet, because last year nothing grew. it was a sad, desolate wasteland in my backyard. this year all my plants are going nuts. i can't figure out why things are different than they were last year, other than that i'm actually watering stuff. i have written the following observation in my garden journal: 'it appears that plants need water to survive.  i should probably write an enlightening book on the topic.'

this is our first raised bed.  onions, peas, green and yellow beans, tomatoes, peppers, carrot-seeds-that-never-sprouted-even-though-i-planted-them-twice, and marigolds around the edge to deter rabbits.  the marigolds have been ineffective.

second raised bed:  a sweet potato that died (which is why that spot of dirt is bare), onions, cucumbers, tomatoes, and containers of dill, cilantro and basil at the back.  those serve to hold down the fence to keep the rabbits out.  they have been ineffective.

the main part of the garden: cucumbers, pumpkins, tomatoes, my compost pile in the back left corner, zucchini and onions.

these onions volunteered themselves from sets that never sprouted last year.  they're taller than atticus and going to seed.  i may try just letting the seeds drop there and seeing if the onion patch replants itself.

massive zucchini.

this, friends, is a massive close-up of a tomato.  specifically, a tomato crotch blossom.  not sure if that's the technical term, but that's what i call it out loud when i'm all, OOH, CROTCH BLOSSOM! then i pick it off.  it's that little shoot growing on the left between the main stem and a 'branchy' part of the tomato.  i clearly don't know much about tomatoes, but i've heard to pinch those off so the tomato puts more energy into growing fruit than leaves.  so i do it.

my weirdly artsy photograph of a pea plant. 

a tomato surrounded by crushed up eggshells and photobombed by my foot.

and just in case you were all, 'oh my word paige van voorst has the greenest thumb ever now that she learned the secret garden supplement that is water,' this little guy is here to correct you.  he's all, 'look at meeeee i'm a crustycrust pea plant!'  RIP crustycrust pea plant.

so i know i've already beat this dead horse, but...

THIS BEETLE WAS HUMONGOUS.  the fact that i didn't die by beetle bite will probably be the plotline of some movie someday.  once this story has gone viral and morphed into mythology where the beetle ends up being the size of...well, a matchbox car.  because seriously, people, there is no need to exaggerate this in order for it to be the freakiest moment of my life.  (actually, this...and this...and this...were right up there too.  what is it with weird stuff finding its way into our house?  maybe it's god's way of telling me i should start writing movies.)

without further ado, the photo todd took of the beetle once it had no more beetlejuice (you know, beetle lifeblood.  keep up.) left and it was just a sad, disgusting, giant insect carcass:

does that not make you want to throw up slash scratch every inch of skin on your body to get the crawlies off?  just watching todd pick that crispy little corpse up with his bare fingers (HIS BARE FINGERS) made my gag reflex all 'hey! *gag* don't forget about me! *gag*'.  blech.

blech.

the weekly 'whut up.'

(once, todd and i stayed at a hotel whose huge sign out front said, "WHUT UP. LOW RATES."  if it's good enough for inner city des moines, it is good enough for the van voorsts.  also there was a car full of people blazing up in the parking lot.  it was actually a pretty nice place on the inside though.  smelled kind of like sweat, but what hotel doesn't?)

ANY.  WAY.

what were we up to this week?  well friend, buckle your seatbelt; this week was crazier than a wild-eyed stallion.  (right there i could have said something less awkward, but you know what?  i'm going for it and 'wild-eyed stallion' is the official comparison for the week.)  our week was very full, ergo this post is very long.

on saturday, the family went to Jethro's, a semi-local BBQ place that landed itself a starring role on "man v. food" and the #1-in-the-midwest spot on men's health's list of 'manliest restaurants in america.' 

anyone else find it ironic that men's health posted this list in their nutrition section?  i would think so, considering todd ordered a sandwich that contained a dinner plate-sized pork tenderloin, a huge mound of pulled pork, a bunch of smoked ham, and about a quarter of a pound of bacon.  and a tiny-in-comparison bun.  we went for father's day, which seemed fitting.

while there, i lost the right half of one of my favorite pairs of GIANT dangly earrings.  i only realized once i got home that i had been walking around looking like elton john all morning.

also while there, we eavesdropped on a table of guys who said they don't date nurses anymore because nurses are always so pesky about making sure you don't have any STDs.  and i was all, GAH I HATE NURSES ON YOUR BEHALF!  (actually, i was really all, let's move tables before our ears catch whatever those guys have.)

okay.  the rest of the week.

wednesday morning, i battled this (and by battled, i do mean ran away like a coward and that thing may or may not still be stuck in our window):

now, this photo is misleading because, although it has the whole car and the whole beetle in it, the beetle is facing me and raised up trying to assess how to best leap at me and bite me in the jugular.  this photo is a little more accurate, although the whole car isn't in it:

i like this photo because it looks like the car is zooming in from out of nowhere to take the beetle out at the knees.

man, you sickos were all about seeing that photo.

thursday, FINNEAS CUT HIS FIRST TOOTH.  yeah, really.

also on thursday, i locked myself and atticus out of the car at aldi, and couldn't call todd because my phone was in the car.  so i borrowed a phone from this nice old hindu lady in the parking lot, called him, and he didn't answer.  i called him again when an acquaintance from church showed up, and he still didn't answer.  he called the number back a few minutes later after i called the 89-year-old neighbor lady to see if she could come over and knock on the door to make sure he knew i was stranded.  unfortunately, because i had BOTH sets of keys, he not only couldn't get into the lock box where we keep spares, but also couldn't drive the van to get me.  so church lady had to drive me all the way up to our house (12 miles north of town) even though she lives 12 miles south of town and it ended up being way out of her way....a whole debacle.

WHOA.  and that was our week.  now it's your turn to answer the poignant question: 'whut up.  low rates.'

a word of advice

should you ever happen to be greeted by a beetle the rough size of a matchbox car, here are some pointers:

1. do NOT slam the window closed, trapping it between the window and the glass, and run away being all, ohmywordohmywordewewewewSICK.  this will make the beetle think it has the upper hand.

2. do NOT spend a short moment praying that the beetle eats some of the scaly lead paint off your windowsill and die a long, painful, but hands-off death.  beetles do not have any natural interest in lead paint consumption; your prayer will therefore likely receive a resounding answer of NO, and your faith might be a little shaken.  and you'll need it full-strength at a moment like this.

3. do NOT rummage through the toy bins, find a matchbox car (no, not that one, it's not a very pretty color.  pick the teal one.), and grab your camera for a fun-slash-terrifying 'proof of scale' photo sesh.  this will make the beetle think he is liked and welcomed.  false.

4.  DO close the window quickly when you realize the beetle is about to hop aboard the matchbox car and get all Stuart Little and drive around your house.  pretty soon he will be demanding an outfit, probably including some kind of kicky beret and a driving scarf, and you don't need to indenture yourself to a beetle.  this is your house, after all.  even though, in the beetle's defense, you are acting like a girl baby.

5.  DO leave the beetle in there to problem solve how to get out, or fear the wrath that is your husband's shoe (when your husband gets home to squash it, of course.  you should not trifle with doing the dirty work yourself).  it's like a horror movie plotline for the beetle.  that'll teach him to ever think he had the upper hand.


you're brave.  you're at least twice the size of this beetle.  you are armed with my handy tips.  YOU CAN DO THIS.

video vednesday: windmill cookies. they gave you gonorrhea.

a big thank-you to emily for suggesting this!  (i have to say, this song has always creeped me out to the point of feeling nauseous; i'm not sure if the animations help that or make it worse.)

blahblahblah boring post about decorating my house.

i used to be awesome at making decisions.  when i was planning our wedding, i picked one day where all my bridesmaids and my mom and i could go look at dresses (mine and theirs).  within the afternoon, i had my dress, their dresses, all our jewelry, my veil, and their shoes all picked out.  and bam.  wedding party clothed.  see?  awesome.

but then i started to rethink my dress.  as in, it wasn't horrible, but i definitely didn't love it as much as i thought i did.  i was swept up under the weight of all the decisions to be made (and the fact that i hadn't had lunch yet) and i just bought it.  but the thing is, you can't return a wedding dress.  and i really wish i had taken longer to decide because even now i know that it wasn't my perfect dress.  it was pretty, of course, but it wasn't 'me.'  and it bums me out that i just felt 'meh' in it.

since that major and poorly made decision, i have become much more gun shy about making any kind of decision.  as in, i hem and haw and procrastinate regarding any kind of choice that has to be made.  which is why we have lived in this house for over a year, and other than in the kitchen (where it was mint green, so choices had to be made pronto), pretty much everything looks exactly like it did after we moved in.  there have been three nails driven into the wall in that time, and only two of them hold pictures.  (the other one is empty.  yeah.  i know.)  and both of the currently hanging pictures will probably get moved once i decide where i actually want them instead.

i had about a million different paint samples on the walls for months and months.  i finally let the women's ministry director at church make the decision for me.  she chose well because she is color-aware and awesome at making decisions.  then, we painted the kids' room a bright oceany blue-green, and then i hated it because i'm a gray-walls kind of girl, and then i kind of liked it because it was outside of my comfort zone and i was proud of myself, but then i didn't like it because - GREEN WALLS?!, but now i love it.  i think. 

i decided on fabric for the curtains in there but when i went to buy it, i ended up coming home with five more fabric swatches instead, just to be sure.

i think you get my point.

i'm not kidding (and only exaggerating a little) when i say i'm in pure, unadulterated agony.  i have been living with jaundice-colored walls for the last thirteen months.  i have a whole bedroom full of nothing but decor items, and now that it's garage sale season again, that room is about ready to be featured on hoarders. it is time, my friends.  TIME.

i am putting myself to the task of finally deciding to decide (aka, decorating) and i couldn't be more excited!  first up: the living room.  the list involves choosing curtains, hanging a wall of random framed stuff, painting our table, making pillow covers for the couches, getting new rugs when dinero allows, choosing (or making) a new light fixture, and finally deciding what to do with the sad corner that contains a cast-off end table with a tiny little plant on it.  so sad.

but no more sad for me!  that sad little plant is going to turn its frown upside down.  (and actually has already gotten a bit of a spruce with the addition of a tiny taekwondo trophy guy just stuck right there in the dirt for some company.  what can i say?  i'm a quirky gal with a quirky plant.  to prove it, the plant is also potted in a thrifted popcorn bucket.)

anyone up for taking on the spruce-up challenge with me? anyone?

i wish i had some mom jeans instead.

there is no cute, girly way to say this: i am going bald.

it happens every time i have another baby: my hair grows really quickly and thick during pregnancy, but then afterwards it falls out.  and i don't mean a hair here and there; they're deserting in droves.  which means i'm not only left with completely bald patches on either side of my head that are almost two inches in diameter (they're getting nearly impossible to cover up), as well as a forehead that's approximately half an inch higher all around (it doesn't sound like much, but it ends up that it is), but it is summer and i therefore have a tan line where my hair used to be.  a TAN LINE, people!

i used to think that looking like a mom was something you brought on yourself: no one forced you to buy those high waisted Lee jeans.  no one chopped your hair off short while you were sleeping.  and you, my friend, were the one who chose the gold, wire-framed glasses.  we all know it was you.

but i can definitely say that mom balding has NOT been volitional.  and the weird thing is, i almost wish my physical transformation as a mom involved more stuff like crazy mom fashion or haircuts.  because at least then people would see me and be all, 'oh poor thing.  she looks like a mom.'  instead, i half suspect people are whispering behind my back, 'oh poor thing.  she looks like a thirty-five year old gamestop employee.'

and this is the part of the blog where i usually insert some kind of snarky punch line, but all i really want to do at this point is cry.  and maybe spend all hours of the night playing zelda or LARPing to deal with my grief.  WHO AM I?!?