Do you hear that?  It’s the sound of a (relatively) blank schedule for the next three weeks until we have this baby.

July 15th, people–write it down.  I’ll take all the prayers I can get.

We signed the boys up for swim lessons this summer because toting soon-to-be-five kids to the pool when NO ONE knew how to swim was starting to sound a bit, um, overwhelming and slightly dangerous.

Eight sessions.  30 minutes each.  $100.00 total for the boys.

My husband and I are still REALLY trying to get used to the prices of recreational activities in a big city vs. the small towns we grew up in.

The lessons, however, were worth it as the boys were terrified to get their faces near the water before they started, and now they can go under water and not hold their noses.

The swimming on their own thing still has to come, and I’m trying to figure out if the pool would swap lessons for a kidney in order to get them swimming on their own because, you know, dinero.

On a side note, I quickly realized on Day 1 that I was the only mom there who was not sitting around in a swimsuit.  I watched to see if they were going to hop in with their child to assist, but they didn’t.  Apparently they all knew each other and sent a memo out about wearing swimsuits to their kids’ swim lessons, and uh, I didn’t get that memo.  So, when I came walking up with a 3 year-old hanging off my arm and 1 year-old in the stroller dressed in my jersey knit skirt and shirt, I stood out just a little bit.  And then I stood out for the next seven lessons as well.

And it wasn’t because four out of the eight days E dressed herself and had her shirt on backwards.  Or her skirt on inside out.

Ahem.  Right on top of that motherhood thing, Rose.

Where were we?

On their last day of lessons, however, the boys showed off just how brave they really are now:


He might be older, but he is definitely the more timid of the two.


This kid had the instructor on her toes the entire eight days due to his sudden new-gained confidence in the water.

He also had his mom on heart palpitation watch.


What else says “summer?”

Oh, yes–cucumbers.


We had our first harvest two nights ago.  One beautiful cucumber that we sliced up and savored around the table before dinner was ready.

Last night, we cut some Swiss Chard to make a salad to have with dinner.  D, who was apparently a rabbit in a past life, loves salad and couldn’t get enough of the Swiss Chard.

Go ahead, son.  Eat as much Vitamins A, C, and K as you like.

Today, we harvested another cucumber that will go nicely with another Swiss Chard salad tonight.



I grew that guy.

From seed.

I’m slightly impressed with myself–if you can’t tell.

(Thank you, St. Fiacre, for the prayers!)

And I fought off 43 mosquitoes in the 30 seconds I was outside snipping him off the vine.

Now we’re just waiting for the tomatoes (some nearly the size of my fist) to start ripening up.

Because when they do, this will happen:


From Two Peas and their Pod, might I present “Caprese Garlic Bread?”  Drizzled with balsamic vinegar…

Hurry up, tomatoes.  Tick, tock.

And what else says summer?


I’m happy to say the one watermelon plant that we got to grow–the heirloom variety that P picked out that boasts 75+ pound watermelon–has seven blossoms on the vine…so far.

If we have 525 pounds of watermelon in our backyard, you’re all invited for an end-of-summer watermelon party.

True story.