My parents, after about 5 years of thoroughly enjoying an empty nest, have some new roomies. Stephan and I moved in yesterday and I was surprised and pleased with how quickly and easily we fit ourselves into our designated rooms. Noah and Witten both have their own rooms and Stephan and I also have our own private room. It's a nice set up and Stephan and are are supremely grateful that we have such a nice (and free) temporary home until we find the house right for us, but last night, as we tucked ourselves into our temporary bed, Stephan sighed and said, "I wish we had a house."
While we have indeed moved, we have not yet closed on our sweet former house. That happens on Wednesday. Today I went back to that eerily empty house to try to "clean it spotless", as I confidently told my husband I would do. I even had the help of two incredibly kind and loving and beautiful and tender-hearted friends who volunteered to come over and get cleanin'. Well, things didn't go as planned. Not only was there a lot more random junk left in the house for us to pile into the garage and out of our way so that we actually could clean, we all made the mistake of bringing our two young children and assuming that they'd play contentedly in the back yard while we went all Cinderella up in that house. Long story short, trying to clean with 6 active, messy kids running amok underfoot is the most counter-productive task ever. I'll go back myself and finish the job right. Maybe. Too tired of this whole moving thing to care anymore. Just want to sleep...
In bright, shiny, happy, exciting news:
Guess who finally decided to step out on his own and walk? Witten!
Mr. Too-big-for-his-britches (or for mommy to carry much longer) up and started tottering around yesterday! In fear of jinxing it and causing an unwanted regression, I didn't make a huge deal about it, save for vigorous cheering for Witten. But today he continued his progression from crawling to walking, though he still crawls more than he walks. I'll get a video of it here soon, but not right now. They're napping now. Y'all will just have to wait.
This weekend is Noah's third birthday party and I am super excited! I hope and pray that the weather is perfect and that absolutely nobody is sick, 'cause we're hittin' up the splash park for some epic birthday-fun! And though my son's age progression is weighty and exciting, I am, without a doubt, the most excited about his birthday cake. You see, friends, every year thus far, I have baked the cakes for my sons' big days myself, and they have been adequate, if not quite tasty. This year, however, I made an epic discovery that will take birthday cakes up to a whole new level from here on out. First, backstory:
Last week, Stephan and I double dated with the Skinners. We ate food, then wondered the town in search of a fun way to piddle around until our babysitters called us and asked us where the heck we were. We found ourselves in Cafe Tazza. I have never been there before, but I know two precious, precious ladies who work there. One of those precious ladies was working that night. She works as their baker. After spying a large, impossibly delicious looking cake in the display case, I asked her what all was her creation. Pretty much everything there came from her gifted hands. I ordered a slice of cake. I sat down with said slice. As gloriously gifted Jessie stood by, I took a bite of her beautiful, scrumptious, stupendous, chocolate cake. I cried in ecstasy. BEST CAKE EVER.The next day I hired Mrs. Jessie Mayes to make any and all future cakes I may need. That's Jessie Mayes. Look her up, friends, and try her baking. Anyhting she makes is gold!
And now, I'm off to rest and do my Bible study. I still need to go grocery shopping, but that can wait until after nap time.
Also, I broke my tendon in my right foot. (Not really, but it hurts). It makes walking far more challenging.
Be blessed, friends!