It's Sunday, again.

The siren song of the garden called to me this sabbath day eve, am I supposed to capitalize "sabbath"? You tell me. Anyway, the peas are up to my calf by now since I planted them on St. Patrick's Day (also, Connie's birthday), a second row planted a month ago has sprouted up as well. The onions have poked their way up towards the sky, a few broccoli seedlings have sprouted and even a row of potatoes. I hacked down some weeds with my hoe (not ho, what good would one have those done me?), turned up a spot or two and interred 6 more broccoli plants, 6 cauliflower plants, 4 tomatoes, and far away from all of those, a zucchini squash or two. Tomorrow I will get on down to the IFA for some beans and corn to add to the mix, and maybe some pumpkin seeds as well. I'm sure I'll have to talk myself down from buying baby chicks yet again. They peep! So fluffy! I need! No I don't. We have enough pets around here what with two small children and Augustus Thor the Thunderdog shedding and pooping his merry way around the property. 

If you had asked me 5 years ago if I thought I would ever have even attempted a garden of any sort, likely I would have laughed in your face and maybe slapped you for good measure. I got enough of gardening during the years I spent as one of Connie's indentured servants; snapping beans, picking peas, endless weeding, NO THANKS. And yet, here I am; gleeful over a trailer full of turkey poop infused mulch (it's the best stuff, no really), and far too excited about the fact that the gladiolus I planted almost 2 months ago didn't really die like I thought they would. Gardening is fun! Especially when you're not forced to do it against your 15 year old will, or 8, 9, and almost 10 months pregnant like I was last summer. Turns out, it's not so bad. I would do it for the fresh tomatoes alone. 

Where am I going with this? I'm not sure. The weekend was busy. Saturday always goes too fast and Sunday is over before it even starts thanks to stupid 1 pm church. Whoever thought going to church past noon was a great idea should be drug behind a car and then beat senseless for good measure. Even so, the outfit I put together for today garnered not one, but FOUR compliments from the teenage girls I so desperately (and awkwardly) seek validation from for personal reasons I cannot figure out. I am so going to go and write about this in my journal now. I would have taken a picture to document this historic self-esteem boosting event, but by the time we got home at 4:30, and after having been cornered by a member of the bishopric and coerced into speaking next week, I was practically stripping off my church clothes in the car. Treats for everyone!

Instead, here is an iphone picture of my mobile via compulsive rolling over baby underneath a chair, with a pile of spit up/drool to boot:

he's cute.

Happy Sunday, I want a do-over.