Happy President’s Day!  The weather in Denver today was beautiful.  A friend called and asked us to go to Westlands Park out south.  If you are from the Denver area and have never been to Westlands I highly recommend it.  It is a kid’s dream park with tree houses, slides, rock climbing, you name it – a perfect park for all ages.

 I ran to my car and gave my kids a few dollars to tip Alex the Balloon Boy.  Of course, they chose to have swords made.  Couldn’t be something nice like a dog or a hat.  Must have fighting weapons, argggg!

I have read countless lists and articles that point to the benefits of charity and community service in creating confident and empathetic children.  My children are 8,6, and 3 and, while my husband and I give faithfully to several non-profits that are important to us, I often wonder how well I’m doing in helping my children to see the importance of helping others.  

I am a closet American Idol junkie.Oooops, I guess I’m outing myself!

In our house, books are our friends.  My mother-in-law, Jane, is a teacher and self professed bookie.  She passed this love of books on to my husband and is doing a darn good job with her grandchildren.  She sends books for every holiday, birthday, and random event you can name.  As a result, we have more books than a small town library.  We’ve read every single one of them to our children numerous times.  Some of them show signs of true love.  A few have had to be taped back together because they were so loved.  

I can’t believe I’m blogging about barf again. I’m so tired of barf. Cleaning barf. Hearing barf. Smelling barf. Enough with the barf yet? Be glad I didn’t find any suitable barf pictures to post.

With three children, the barfy bug incubation period is perfectly timed so that it plows through the family and, just when you think everyone is back in school and healthy, the primary infector is reinfected. I think our violin teacher must think I’m crazy because for about three weeks now at least one of my children has been sickly. I promise I’m not lying!  This one is truly a doozy!

I feel horrible for my poor babies. Their pale faces are drained and they have barely enough energy to plop down on the couch and moan for “sickie pop”. A sickie pop is a Pedialyte freezer pop.  My kids prefer them over drinking the liquid. This frozen pop goes down nice and slow, so if it isn’t going to stay down at least the volume of substance isn’t too overwhelming…. ugh.Â

If you’ve never been to a happy hour playdate you are truly missing out. This specific type of playdate is truly the best. Kids love the happy hour playdate because there are usually multiple friends invited and nobody has to leave early to do homework or practice, etc. Often times this type of playdate includes pizza, junk food, and as many juice boxes your little one can suck down. They can make as much noise as they want and as long as their play doesn’t result in blood or broken bones the adults seem content to keep to their own “play”.

I should mention that, yesterday, the boys in our neighborhood learned that aiming the automatic whiffle ball pitcher at your pal’s 18 month old brother isn’t acceptable, especially when said brother gets bonked in the face once and stares straight ahead wondering where that odd white thing came from, only to be bonked again in exactly 10 seconds…. yes, that got the attention of a few adults.

I love the happy hour playdate. It always falls on a Friday and the invite comes from a neighborhood mom desperate to gather her wine drinking friends for a little decompression. We gather right after school and are often still chatting happily by the time the Dad arrives home from work. He’s excited to see all the relaxed ladies gathered before him and immediately calls the other dads for backup!

These are fun and memorable times. We are blessed to have a neighborhood of lovely friends. I always have a great sense of fellowship and comfort after a playdate like this. These women who listen and share their wisdom are my friends.

I love my friends.

I love that when I tell them about my basement raining poopy toilet water, the tales of the Sharpie covered plantation shutters, and my sweet angel-turned-bully daughter, they have stories to match and compare to mine. Somehow, laughing about these things with your friends is truly restorative. I head into the weekend refreshed and ready to recover and prepare myself for the adventures of next week!

Do I really have to keep spending a fortune on organic milk?  This blog entry was supposed to have an answer to that question. An answer that I have finally gone searching for.

Dear readers, do I really have to keep paying so much for milk?  

The other brand says something about not using such and such hormones but it isn’t organic.  If all I’m really worried about is hormones, does this matter?

At this time, I buy the Private Selection brand of organic milk because it is the cheapest brand of organic milk at my local King Sooper.  

When I grocery shop, I look at the other brands with longing.  

The $2 difference makes me feel so sad.  How can a company produce something that will make little girls grow up too fast?

Paying more used to make me feel empowered, like I was doing my children right.  My boys will mature slower, my girl will mature slower (Puleeeeze, LORD).

A year into buying organic milk, I’m beginning to feel a teeny bit duped.  No longer being able to take advantage of the two gallons for $5 really stinks!  (OK, it has gone up to a bit more than that, but let’s be real, a gallon of organic at $3.99 is killing me).  

In these hard economic times, will someone out there please educate me about the milk my children should be drinking?

Do I really have to keep spending so much on milk?