The Brattons

I just refilled my presciption with CVS over the phone. It went something like this:

(Read the 'Recording' part in the voice of a male robot trying to sound human, and each number I select with an accompanying beep. You may need supplementary electronic equipment to experience the full effect.)

Recording: Please enter the time you would like to pick up your prescription.
          Me: 1:30
Recording: I'm sorry, but we need at least 60 minutes to refill your prescription. The earliest you may pick up your prescription is 1:31. Press one to select this option.
          Me: 1

Dear Recording Robot Man, you are so very a computer-brain. But that's okay. -Sarah

     The nesting has extended to my spice cabinet. Isn't it beautiful? And yes, they are alphabetized. Aren't you proud Mom? You taught me well! Ben wasn't sure what to think, but he was relatively patient last night when I was chasing him down insisting he smell the amazing Vietnamese cinnamon.
     The one I'm most excited about is the saffron. I wasn't going to get any because it's so expensive, but I had a coupon for a free tall jar of anything that comes in a tall jar. And there was nothing anywhere on the coupon that said I couldn't use it on a $16 jar of saffron. So I did. I left the store feeling mildly guilty and extremely excited. And now I want to go cook things. Or organize the rest of my cabinets. Probably the latter.

     Ben and I colored eggs yesterday. Because we are apparently both about eight years old on the inside. But we had fun, and Ben likes eating hard boiled eggs, so we weren't even being wasteful. I only like hard boiled eggs when they become deviled eggs made with lots of Colman's prepared mustard and topped with a good smokey paprika. We don't have any of those yet, but I'm excited to make some. Especially if Ben will peel the eggs for me. I strongly dislike peeling eggs.

Exciting new color options!

     Because we come from such different egg coloring backgrounds, we usually find it hard to agree on what kind of dye we should use. Ben always wants to buy the box with the little tablets. I like using the little bottles of food coloring. We usually tell each other that the other person's method is inferior several times over the Lenten season, and then I end up buying a box of the tablets because I feel guilty every time I see them at the grocery store. 

The finished product.

     This year Ben volunteered to use the food coloring drops. I was very excited. I was even more excited when I got to the store and found out they had neon colors. Which, on eggs, translates to springtime pastels. Have those always been there, or did they come out during the last four years while I was in egg-coloring-tablet-land? Anyway, the eggs turned out beautifully.  Then somebody put them in the fridge before I could get a good picture of them in a proper basket. (I never actually told him I wanted to take a picture before they went in the fridge and got all condensation soaked and drippy. He was being helpful.) Maybe next year. This year you can just admire the lovely egg carton.

Ben washed the floors for me. Because he's cool like that.

Thank you Ben!

Baby laundry all over the bed. Like my cardboard nightstand?

 I did baby laundry today. It was pretty exciting. I gathered everything that was newborn or 0-3 months, washed it, folded it, and made it fit into the chest of drawers reserved for infant gear storage purposes.

Cute, but tricky baby socks. Next time: mesh bag in washer.

I thought the socks were especially adorable, but then I kept dropping them on the floor while I was trying to carry things in to the bedroom to fold. Picking up tiny socks off the floor is annoying when one is eight months pregnant. Very annoying. Now the socks are just mostly adorable.

The giraffe is just chillin in the pack'n'play.

Air Jordans. For real. My baby is so much cooler than me.

The end product: neatly packed drawers full of stuff.

Icy flowers at the grocery store.

It snowed today, and the snow made me think. Here's what I decided: When people complain and ask for spring, they really want summer. Summer is when it's warm. Spring is not.
Spring is when you know all the new life is coming, but you can't see it clearly yet. You just see glimpses. Spring isn't a meadow full of daisies. It's a couple of daffodils that you aren't even sure are going to make it through the frost. But even if they don't make it, summer will still come. I've seen many a snowy Easter and not one of them was followed by winter. I promise.
So spring, at least around here, is not about sudden heat waves or an explosion of plant life. Spring is a tenuous hold on a coming certainty. Just like life. So don't worry too much about the snow or the hail, and don't take it too hard if the daffodils get frostbite. That's just how it goes. Summer will come. I promise. : )