RED

Nearly two weeks ago my friend Linda tagged me in a circulating post. The object is to take a picture of 7 red objects in your home. I've discovered that despite my love for bold colors there is practically nothing red in our home. So it became a search to just find any at all.

Pat me on the back. I took all these pics with RJ's big, scary camera.

And a cute boy pic for good measure.

Why is it when your husband calls you at 4pm asking if you can host new friends over for dinner at 6:30, and you foolishly say "no problem", the following goes down: 

• Your realize that your floors haven't seen a mop in a week, and while it's okay for your 9 month old to crawl around in the family's dirt, they probably won't appreciate indoor grass stains on their baby girl.

• Just as your fully assemble cleaning supplies for said floors the 9 month old wakes early from his afternoon nap. And he would like his afternoon nursing. Now.

• 9 month old is placated with half a nursing and stuffed into his walker with a handful of Cheerios. Furiously cleaning the floors (which are promptly littered with 0-shaped oat puffs) you reach the last section when the door bell rings. An out of town friend and his companion. They're just driving through and would love to see the remodeled kitchen. 

• Considering this good friend spent more than two days of his own time and sweat on the kitchen it is more than necessary to give him the complete tour. Meanwhile, as you're showing off the new gas fire pit a little voice in the back of your head reminds you that tonight's dinner guests are gluten intolerant and the only semi-decent gluten-free meal you know how to make requires a trip to Trader Joes. Across town. 

• Waving good-bye to out of town friends you load baby into his car seat and race to Trader Joes. Arriving just in time to circle the parking lot three times, greet the rest of the after-work-shoppers, and grab the last remaining cart. 

• The last item on the list is finally loaded and you're in line to pay when you realize that crackers and brie are not a gluten free appetizer. Exit line.

• New appetizer selected you head back to the check-out to try again. Only to hear someone faintly calling your name. It's George! Your 75 year old friend from Toastmaster's that you haven't seen in a year. And he's never met Landon. Introductions must be made, Toastmasters news shared, relationship updates, etc.,etc. 

• You've finally made it to the cashier. Only to realize that he's new. Nice, but new. And in love with your baby. And wouldn't your baby love a balloon. Hold on right there while nice, new cashier arranges for the baby to get a yellow helium balloon.

• Finally home and the house is a bit messy. Not terrible but definitely could use a quick spruce up. Thankfully husband will be home soon and he'll be able to help. Guests are arriving in half an hour. 

• Baby is hungry. There is nothing too feed baby.

• Strawberries for dinner won't kill baby and they're keeping him really happy. Things are moving right along. Onions sauteing, baby dribbling berry juice, linen napkins out and ready. Next step of chili recipe - add diced tomatoes. Forgot to buy tomatoes. 

• Kiss husband (and expected house straightener) "hello" and promptly turn him around to go buy tomatoes.  Now you must make a choice: make side-dish for dinner or straighten house. 

• Side-dish seems more important. You head to the computer to print the side-dish recipe that you saw the other day. Something simple but you can't quite remember the ratio of ingredients and it's really important for the dish. The internet is down. 

• No tomatoes. No side dish. No clean house. No more pride. 

I learned so much that night. I believe God let all that stuff happen to teach me and RJ and lesson. We both love to entertain. And we love having new people (and old friends) over to our home. But, in all honesty, there is sometimes too much pride attached. RJ has done a remarkable job remodeling out house, we love creating a "fancy" atmosphere with appetizers, wine, cloth napkins, and homemade/homegrown meals. And while there is nothing wrong with those things there is something wrong in being prideful about them.  The nice stuff and fancy food aren't a problem, but when we start to feel the need and/or desire to look a certain way and give off a certain impression our hearts are acting too prideful. 

 The Hoskings don't eat three-course meals most nights. Nor to we light the candles and use cloth napkins. Usually we just fling ourselves onto the bar stools and you're lucky if you get a paper towel to wipe off  your face. So why is it so important to look different in front of friends? Having people over for dinner and making the evening a little more special is nice.  But by the time our friends arrived the other night RJ and I were frustrated with each other, Landon had been neglected (in my defense though he though strawberries for dinner was extra special!), and while our house looked good in the end we weren't filled with much joy. It would have been much nicer if I had chosen a more "boring" gluten-free meal and just gone to Vons, swept the floors instead of giving them the whole nine-yards, and let the clutter go since it wasn't even that bad.

Not the mention, I believe that when we set the precedent a certain way (i.e. fancy dinner party) then people feel pressured to follow suite. And I hate that. It sets us all up to fail. Particularly as women. We need to be real with each other and be willing to serve spaghetti with jar sauce, show off our unmade beds, nasty hair, and laundry piles. I know I feel alot better when I see that other women don't always have clean floors of matching clothes. Being honest and real serves everyone. We need to try it out more. 

I Got

to Marry 

This Man.

Someone smiled on me. 

Feelin' Good

The other day I came across and interesting section of the "Mom" book I was reading. The author was discussing the need for stay-at-home-mom's to feel good both emotionally and physically. As most of us can attest spending all day in your sweatpants is nice every once in awhile but day-after-day of baggy fashion statements will put anyone into a funky mood. Too many days in in the drawstring pants and you start to feel unattractive and insecure. But dressing to the nines for a trip to Target and the neighborhood park is a) impractical and b) unrealistic - who has it in them to both style their hair AND pick out a clean, matching, stylish outfit?! 

So the author suggested figuring out what's that one "thing" that makes you feel put together and attractive. Is it doing your hair? Then don't feel guilt about the second-wear-in-a-row-yoga-pants and spend some type with the hair straightener. Or is it wearing lipstick? Grab a few sticks of your favorite shade and put them in throughout the car and house so you can always have a pretty pout. 

I know my friend Kelly can't go anywhere without her bangs looking good. She's comfortable slipping into comfy workout gear for a trip to the coffee house, or going sans makeup for a walk in the park, but she has to have her bangs done. Bangs are her thing. 

While I love having my hair blow and curled it is unrealistic for me to do everyday. Especially since a little man in my house hasn't get figured out that pulling hair is a NO. So after really thinking this over I realize that when I have a pedicure I feel pretty. I may be wearing my oldest jeans, a thrift store tee, pony-tailed hair, and no makeup, but when I slip my feet into sandals and see pretty painted toes I feel good about myself. A smile + colorful feet = ready to take on the world....or the grocery store. 

Having this guy on my hip makes  me feel good too! 

What's your thing? What makes you feel pretty or polished for the day? 

The Zoo

At first Landon thought the zoo was about as entertaining as watching grass grow.


Not even the elephant could produce a smile.

We even paid for an extra special treat - feeding the giraffe - but nothing. Not even a hand wave. You would think the kid got to feed giraffes everyday. (At least we got our moneys worth since RJ enjoyed it.)

And then he met this guy:

SCORE!

And kisses from Oma are pretty special too!

And finally, me and my hubs. We stopped to take a pic in front of the Gibbons (a monkey species) since I realized that in the last nine months (aka - since Landon was born) we've taken a total of maybe 5 pictures together. Someone else keeps stealing the spotlight.

Santa Barbara Zoo Favorites

Anna: The Gibbons

Landon: The Gorilla

Oma: The Gorilla (she's just a sucker for anything Landon!)

RJ: The giant porcupine 

A WOW Moment

I had a WOW moment yesterday.

RJ, Landon and I were out to dinner at a local (semi-good-for-you) burger joint. I had gotten a coupon for a free burger in the mail, and now that my professional job title(s) includes "household manager" we go to dinner where there are coupons. Anyway, RJ was grubbing on the free burger, I got steak salad, and we were splitting onion rings. Landon had eaten yellow mush at home before we left - lucky boy - so he was just chillin' in the hair chair playing with Mama's keys.

Well, the keys distracted him for a whopping .02 seconds and then he wanted some of what we had. In Landon's word adult stuff is WAY more fun than baby stuff. (I'm still waiting for someone to make millions by inventing "baby toys" that resemble glorified tupperware.) Looking at our plates I couldn't figure out what to feed the boy to keep him happy. RJ's semi-healthy (but not really) burger was a no-no, so were the onion rings, my steak was too difficult to chew, and I couldn't really image him being interested in the lettuce itself. 

I sat staring at my salad plate, tomatoes pushed to the side since neither RJ or I like raw tomatoes, wondering if I could feed the baby a crushed up crouton when it hit me:

Landon might like the tomato. 

Even though RJ and I hate them, he might like it.

BECAUSE HE IS HIS VERY OWN PERSON.

Wow. 

It hit me like a ton of bricks: Landon is his own individual. I've know this in my head but I didn't really get it. We might help shape him and guide him, but he is going to have his very own likes and dislikes. He might hate the ocean (heaven forbid!) but love the snow (this could be a problem.) Maybe he'll be less talkative than his parents but he'll have a beautiful singing voice (it would be a miracle based on his genes.) We have yet to see, and I am so excited to find out. Who is this beautiful little person? What will he like and be and do? 

Already he's surprising me - he not only ate that slice of raw tomato, but he demanded a second!

Landon Went to Visit Daddy At Work Today