Delectable Thought

Today has been Opposite Day here at the Thurman house. Actually this entire weekend has been Opposite Day. I don't mean some fun, creative day where we all swap roles or wear our shirts as pants and our pants as shirts. (Does that really happen?) But Opposite Day here is when the Sons of Thunder do the exact opposite of what I say.  Example One: Smile while I take a picture of you. James' clearly interpreted this to mean, "Don't smile and hold your hand out to indicate you don't want a picture taken of you." We clearly are still having some language barriers. (I kid. I kid.) John Owen's interpretation of "Smile while I take a picture of you." I believe I'm raising some abstract artists around here. As a sidenote, yes that is a basket of laundry that I DID NOT get folded today. I, too am practicing Opposite Day. Opposite Day was also practiced when getting in and out of the Jeep.  Example Two: "C'mon and get out so we can get in the s...

We're waste-deep in chiggers over here.  I promise my little fellas could be 100 miles away from the closet chigger and it would somehow find my sweaty boys. Chiggers equal clear nailpolish applications to places other than our toenails and fingernails. They also equal little boys scratching themselves in awkward places in public and me saying constantly, "Stop doing that!"  I'm sure a good remedy to our chigger issue would be to stay indoors, but I'd rather you rip off all of my fingernails and toenails with tweezers and then dip them in rubbing alcohol than stay indoors with my two boys. My boys (and most likely your boys) are loud and proud and rowdy and rough and tumble. My house is not a jungle gym, nor does it muffle sound, so indoors my sanity is stretched and pulled like an overblown balloon that you know is about to pop at any moment. My remedy...we spend most ALL our time outside. We do have a few regulations, a few things that will drive us inside. 1) R...

Over there you can barely make out my stand mixer. My plan was to make cupcakes in that stand mixer, but as is the norm around here whenever my boys notice, which is always, that I've switched activties and am about to do something new, they flock to me, buzzing around like a bunch of flies wanting to be involved. Sweet, right? Of course it is and I soak up every moment that they want to be with me. Every moment like when I go to the bathroom or get in the shower or brush my teeth or step outside on the porch to have an adult conversation on the phone. They have a sixth sense that is better named the Mommy Homing Device. They just know, like I know the sun rises in the East and sets in the West, that mommy is about to do SOMETHING. It doesn't have to be something fun or entertaining, but just something. So Saturday this mommy decided to make peach cupcakes with cream cheese and peach compote in the center and peach curd in the batter topped off with cinnammon cream cheese icing...

Since we became a transracial family in 2013, there have been many unsual things to address, overcome, learn about, and conquer. Back in February of this year, exactly one year after we brought James home, I decided he needed to visit a barber shop. I know right now you have images of Ice Cube's classic hit Barbershop  flashing through your brain, but that's the movies and we live in Frankfort, so the barbershop we visited and by we, I really mean Zack and the boys, wasn't like that. There was no sign of Ice Cube...anywhere! Visiting a barbershop was uncharted territory for us. Why you ask? Well, because we're white and we grew up going to hair salons and if you're white, getting your haircut isn't really part of your cultural experience. I do understand that for black men and boys it is and I want this for my youngest son, so "we" headed off to the barbershop. Unfortunately, James HATED it. Like full on screaming, crying, flailing, etc.  The first cut...