Ambrosia Creative

Driving to…

…then walking to…

…the Boone Children’s Gallery at LACMA.

Checking out the kid-art.

Building forts while mommy crafted away at a table…

…making this girly girli-ness.

Playing “Earthquake while watching TV in bed” with daddy.

Dax in a box.

Goofball.

Hungering and telling us it’s time for the afternoon nap.

Tugging at the ears. Yep, definitely tired.

I’m itching to go back to look at the art collections, but you can only push two boys past their scheduled naptimes so far. Three-hour chunks of time, that’s what we got to work with!

Kai has been going through a rough patch lately. It has something to do with being a normal toddler, and everything thing to do with his younger brother’s new-found mobility. Kai really, and I mean really, doesn’t appreciate Dax getting all up in his stuff.

My heart aches for my son, who is grappling with a torrent of emotions and competition over toys, books, and mommy’s attention. Which is why I was overjoyed to see this:

Like sunshine breaking through the clouds.

Being his regular, goofy, sand-showering self.

Looking at all the crap necessities I packed today, one would think I was going camping instead of a quick jog to the park.

Stuffed to the max

All you soon-to-be-moms-of-two, get ready:

- wipes
- diapers
- Kleenex
- burpcloth
- sun hat
- picnic blanket
- sunblock
- band-aids
- snacks for you
- snacks for the kids
- bottle
- formula
- toys
- camera

And yes. I said the F-word (formula). So much for being AP mama extraordinaire, but we started supplementing with formula a couple weeks ago, and believe you me, everyone is so much happier for it.

When I opened up my scriptures yesterday, the thing nearly fell apart in my hands. Kai had done his fair share of ripping, wrinkling, and re-arranging when he was much younger, but now Dax has decided to take on the profession of scripture editing. Chapters of Isaiah are now found in the New Testament, chunks of the book of Alma are permanently lost (eaten for spiritual nourishment, perhaps?), and the index is no longer an index. My set looks terrible…almost to the point of sacrilege, you think?

To Mommy,
The re-mixed version of the four standard works.
Love, Dax and Kai

Fact of the matter is, my children are hell-bent on destroying my home. This particular weekend was so bad, I vowed to move in with Kai when I’m an old, senile, cat-crazy widow so I can spend my days finger-painting the fridge with cream cheese, rubbing clean laundry on the cat, tearing apart the beds, and driving toy cars through my lunch.

Musubi. You know you want some.

I am very sad. Somehow, my email addy got into the wrong hands. 7,304 spam emails since this morning. Even as I delete items in my spam-box, more and more come in. It’s hitting my inbox, too. Oh computer-guy Ryan, HELP!

Strawberry Shortcakes

Toss halved berries with sugar and let sit until juices run.
Place inside these buttermilk biscuits cut in half (cut down sugar by 1/2 in the recipe and grate the butter).
Top with fresh whipped cream.

Mmmm. Gluttonous heaven.

I’m on a losing streak. I just can’t keep up with all my crazy hair. Methinks it’s time to chop it off, except, seeing this lovely mane makes me think twice.

Melting in the heat. And looking like a bug.

Girlfriends and I have always complained; Why is it that the male species are more often blessed with Audrey-Hepburn-esque eyelashes to die for? I mean, what a waste. Men totally don’t appreciate their glorious lashes the way a woman would, and are therefore so undeserving. Ugh, right? And since I sport stick-straight lashes common to the Asian peoples, I am always full of lash-envy towards the Kirk boys in my household.

But I learned today that boys, and only boys, would play rough enough (by themselves, even) to somehow kick up a butt-load of sand into their own faces. Okay! So males are born with pretty lashes as a protective measure. Got it. I spent nearly ten minutes gingerly sweeping sand and grit out of Kai’s eyes, but he went back for more. Twice.

Lickin’ away the sand.

Lastly, I wanted to share this little scene:

This was such a beautiful moment for me; the three of us peacefully sitting together on the blanket, doing nothing of particular consequence, just snacking and enjoying the shade and each other’s company. As a relatively new mother of two, I live for the moments when my children come together like this.

As Ryan and I were married, there was a promise that our home will be filled with love. As newlyweds, I’d think to myself, “Well, yeah, of course there’s love in our home!” but kind of taking that all-present love between us for granted and not quite grasping the depth of that promise.

But I’ve always pondered that promise over the years, the words inadvertently coming to mind at various stages of my life. And as our family has grown, so has my understanding of fierce, meaningful, true love. So folks, this is why we have children — or at least one of the many reasons why we have children: So we can sit together, snack together, simply exist together happily, on a picnic blanket under an endless and beautiful blue sky.