Entrenched.

Before we had kids, "getting away" meant far away. Like, on a plane. To a beach. With drinks and sand and books and guacamole.

Guacamole is definitely one of my love languages.

When you're in the trenches of parenthood, "getting away" takes on a broader definition. Like a trip to Target alone. Or a root canal.

Seriously. Some days a root canal would honestly be preferable to one more minute in my house with bickering children. At least I'd be alone and the only one screaming.

Nate and I are definitely in the trenches. And it's not fun. Filled with beautiful, joyful, precious moments with our sweet kids that we will surely miss someday? Yes. But fun for us as a couple? Eh. Honestly, right now it's a lot of work just getting from point A to point B every day without biting each other's head off. Turns out when you spend 15 hours a day giving everything you have to your children and job, there is very little left to give your spouse. These days the bulk of our conversation takes place on the couch from 9-10pm and is usually a combination of the following statements:

"Should we water the flowers?" (Yes. Ugh. Be back in a minute.)
"What do you want to watch tonight?" (Arrested Development.)
"Do we have any ice cream?" (Silly question.)
"Will you get up and get it while I switch the laundry?" (Sure.)
"Did you remember to give the dog her pill?" (Yes, Abby. I always do.)
"Don't forget we have to take more diapers to daycare." (Run upstairs for diapers.)
"I'm exhausted, let's go to bed." (Finally.)
"Ugh, the sheets are in the washer. Let's just sleep on the mattress pad." (Too tired to care.)
"Will you let the dog out while I get us some water?" (Sure.)
"ARGHHHH, the outside light is still on!" (I'll go back down.)

Riveting, right? I just can't understand why we're not having more fun!

Thank the good Lord for grandparents. For our anniversary this year, Nate's parents gave us a gift card to a hotel in downtown Minneapolis. It graciously included free childcare, which was a good thing because my feelings on staying in a hotel with small children lie somewhere between "NO" and "HECK TO THE NO."

Saturday morning we shipped our kids off to grandma and grandpa's, traded our minivan for my mother-in-law's convertible, and headed downtown for 24-hours of much-needed fun.

It's amazing what 24 hours can do for a relationship. 

Look, I got dressed and put on makeup! On a weekend!

Hot dogs at the Walker. Enormous.

Cute hubs.

So close.

Game faces. (He beat me by 2 points.)

Amazing.

Sorry, I'm one of those annoying people who take pictures of my food.

Bacon confit. If you insist.

Well-rested and well-fed.

Wind in our my hair.

We may not have gotten away away, but we did get far enough to remember just how happy we are to be in the trenches together.

Fair people.

There is no people watching better than state fair people watching. Crazy hair, unflattering clothes, dirty kids. Upper thigh tattoos of tiger cubs nestled in a patch of grass.

You know, the usual.

I always assumed those people looked like that year-round. Until I looked at my own family on our way out the door to the fair.

Calvin was wearing a mismatched outfit, too-small shoes, and too-short shorts, because he likes to dress himself now. Nate was wearing a blue golf polo with his yellow and black gym shoes because comfort is important when you're walking that much. Audra was wearing a sunhat about eight sizes too small because I left her other one at school. And I was wearing a skirt. With tennis shoes. Because...well, I have no flipping idea.

Obviously this is the fair's fault. The fair made me think it was acceptable to dress up like a tennis player and allow my children to go out in public looking homeless. The fair made me eat kettle corn and mini donuts and cheese fries and a turkey sandwich and a sno cone. The fair, darnit, turned ME into someone for other people to watch.

So, new theory. The fair turns normal people into fair people. All those folks with crazy hair and upper thigh tattoos? Yeah, I'll bet they probably spend the other 364 days of the year well-coiffed and dressed in J.Crew. 

Mom. Seriously. The hat. Get it off.

Kettle C(K?)orn!

Kettle C(K?)orn in the back of a tractor!

Mini donuts!

Giant slide!

We have NEVER seen him more excited. He was jumping up and down yelling "YES! YESSS!" when I took this picture.

Post-slide high!

Crazy hair resulting from too-small hat!

Sno Cones!

Diggers and kid!

Diggers and kids!

Fair people! (A keeper for sure)

Things I love Thursday [Food Edition]

I don't know what it is about Thursdays and blog lists, but it's about all I can muster by this point in the week. And given my current state the only thing on my mind is food, so it seemed a logical topic. Really, you should just be thankful for whatever I throw together because I know you're all sitting at work bored out of your skulls just waiting for something new to read.

Oh, that's just me? Okay then. Congrats on being a better employee than I am. Or, if you don't work, congrats on having a better life than I do.

1. Trader Joe's Roasted Gorgonzola Crackers. They don't even need cheese. Or dip. And that's saying something from a girl who rarely lifts a cracker to her mouth without some additional motivation. Chicken in a Biskit also fall into this category.

2. Decaf vanilla coolers from Caribou Coffee. From the drive-thru, preferably. Who wants to actually take the time to get out of their car in the morning?

3. McDonald's sweet tea. One dollar any size for a limited time only. Do it.

4. Everything at Brasa. Seriously, everything. Nate and I went there for the first time in a long time on Tuesday night and it was so ridiculously good. I know there are probably only two people who read this blog and live in the Twin Cities, so I'm very sorry to the rest of you. Except for those of you who live in the south and can get slow roasted pork and red beans and rice and cheesy grits and cornbread and homemade macaroni and cheese whenever you want. Holy heck I live in the wrong part of the country. Sure, Minnesota has tater tot hotdish,* but...yeah, I can't even get through that with a straight face. I mean, tater tot hotdish? This place is so weird.

5. Bacon cheeseburger meatloaf. Cheddar cheese, pickles, thick slices of bacon on top. It's the best meatloaf in the world. And I should know, having tried them all. I'm one of those weird people who really likes meatloaf. Maybe because I really like onions. Nate hates meatloaf because of the onions...which is how we ended up having bacon cheeseburger meatloaf at our house. Onion free. Or maybe just onion light. Who knows, I don't cook, I just eat.

6. Guacamole. No specific recipe in particular, I just had a mad craving for guacamole last night around 10pm while I was watching the end of So You Think You Can Dance and was really disappointed to find we didn't have any. Not that guacamole is the sort of thing anyone just has in the fridge. It usually requires some thought and preparation. I had a bowl of Berry Kix instead. Not the same, not the same at all.

7. Diet coke. Yep, I know. Don't care. It's delicious and I love it and I'm sure my baby will be just fine if a tad hyperactive. And if he/she is not fine, well then you can go ahead and kick me when I'm down. But bring a Diet Coke because after you do I'll probably be thirsty. Also, my mom smoked** when I was in utero and look how well I turned out!

8. String cheese. For kids, or for adults? Hard to say. But I think we can all agree on it being delicious and convenient! Except for Nate, who thinks it "tastes like nothing" yet still eats it.

9. This blueberry pie recipe which I am going to make soon, while blueberries are 2/$4. I haven't actually tasted this pie yet, but I am 100% certain pie crust + blueberries + CREAM CHEESE LAYER = something I love.

10. B.T. McElrath's Salty Dog chocolate bar. It's chocolate...covered in salt. There's nothing more to say.

And, I'm done. Not because I'm out of things to list, but because it's lunchtime and I'm starving and suddenly I want pizza.

11. Pizza. Yum.

*A hotdish is a casserole, for those of you not from Minnesota, aka everyone else on the planet. Also, if you come here with preschoolers, be prepared to play "Duck Duck Gray Duck" instead of "Duck Duck Goose." Yes, I know. I'm raising my children here. Wish me luck.

**Different times, they didn't know then what they know now...yada yada. Look for a similar statement from me down the road when my kids point out how I ate lunchmeat and drank Diet Coke while pregnant.

Card-carrying members of the NRA.

As if. The only thing that we might belong to that has those initials is the National Restaurant Association, which I just made up. But we could totally pass for NRA members, couldn't we? Look at Nate's squint! Look at me coolly blowing on my freshly-fired gun!

Nerds.

On Saturday night, we went out with our good friends Scott and Brenna. Nate's mom and dad took Calvin overnight, the Vuongs worked miracles to secure a last-minute babysitter, and the four of us had a double date. Over dinner, Brenna asked if we had any romantic Valentine's Day plans. To which Nate replied "Why, yes! We're going out to dinner with our friends Scott and Brenna and then going bowling. How about you?"

We've never been big on Valentine's Day at our house. Except for the first year we were dating, when Nate made me a fancy dinner and HUNG FLOWERS FROM THE CEILING. It can only go downhill from there, right? Besides, I prefer to show my love to my husband every day. But there will, of course, be flowers waiting for me when I get home. And yes, that is a statement, not a question. And also a bit of a threat.

So, our uber romantic Valentine's Day date consisted of stuffing ourselves to the gills with steak and crab, a million rounds of skeeball, and bowling. Turns out Nate and I suck at bowling. I didn't think I sucked, but I do. Especially next to Brenna, who is like Mrs. Bowling Minnesota or something. It's so hard to have friends who are cooler than you. Unfortunately like 99.5% of mine are. Which isn't saying much — I'm some kind of dork (did you read that first paragraph?).

Scott was never quite able to cut the string in the game with a dangling Nintendo DS despite a solid $15 worth of effort, and by the end of the night I was on a first-name basis with the teenager working the arcade ticket counter because this 31-year-old woman is too, uh, special to use the newfangled coin card technology. But Brenna beat Scott at bowling and won the right to sleep in yesterday, and Nate redeemed himself by bowling a turkey, so I'd call the night a success. And Calvin is now the proud new owner of a foam football, some girly stickers, a plastic dinosaur, and some other weird crap we were able to trade for our 350 tickets.

That's right, 350 tickets.

We may suck at bowling, but we are AWESOME at picking easy games that give you lots of tickets. Breyers FTW!

Against all odds.

Against all odds — including pink eye, severe colds, sore throats, migraines, nausea, and sub-zero temperatures — April and I made it down to First Avenue to see Joshua Radin in concert last Monday night.

I am happy to report that the experience was totally worth dragging my sorry, exhausted, sick, sad self off the couch, out of my pjs, and into real clothes.

Me and my pink eye, and April and her glasses (we heard he likes girls in glasses).


Yep. As suspected, totally adorable in person.


He looks less adorable and more crazy in this one, but look! He's so close! Behind that girl's arm!


Minnesota girls don't wear socks with skinny jeans, even in winter. Or coats in 15-degree weather when going out downtown Minneapolis at night. At least that's what I told April. (She may never forgive me. That was really stupid and we totally froze. Plus we're both Chicago girls, so what on earth was I trying to prove?)


I love having a friend who will fly two states over and lie on my couch for three days with me while we're both sick just to see a concert. I'd like to think it's because April really loves me, but I know the truth:

Joshua Radin is really dreamy.

On a stick.

Oddly, we had not one thing on a stick last night during our visit to the Great Minnesota Get-Together. I'm pretty sure that's Minnesota State Fair sacrilege, but I'm going to assume we made up for it in caloric intake.

Blessed cheese curds, a state-fair-only indulgence:


Honey and sunflower seed ice cream:


Nate's beloved turkey sandwich, a must-have:


And mini donuts, the only thing (besides ice cream) Calvin liked:


"Uh, mom? I know you're trying to take a picture with me, but say - you got any more of those small donuts in here?"


"What if I give you a totally pathetic look and begin frantically signing 'more'?"


As they say, "Donuts: It's best for dinner." So he had five.


Nate, Abby, Abby's ever-present bra strap. Classin' it up, state fair style.


Monday night, people. Who knew? Easy to park, plenty of room to walk. It was perfection.


Calvin showing us what a dog does during the police dog demonstration.


A tired, happy, overly-fed Minnesota family.

Farmers' Market Finds.

I'm not the least bit crunchy. In fact, I'd say I'm a bit soggy. I don't usually buy organic, I still run the water while I brush my teeth (I know, I know), and I almost always forget my reusable bags when I go to Target. Last night my friend Ben was talking about the raw milk movement, and my response was: "Huh? What the heck is that?!" And Nate, with a snicker, replied "Is that when you go from nursing your baby to putting them directly on the cow?" (I love my husband. And that's actually not far from the truth.)

So, yeah. We're soggy. But I do care about what we eat, and although my love affair with McDonald's is well-documented on this blog, occasionally I try to drive past the drive-thru. Plus I have a total fruit monster on my hands (my formerly adventurous eater has decided it's going to be all fruit, all the time or NOTHING), so we have upped our produce intake quite a bit. Which is why the Saint Paul Farmers' Market is where we'll be most Saturday mornings this summer.

We've always loved the market, which is downtown and very convenient for us. Personally, I find the quieter (yet still plenty busy) Saint Paul market to be much more enjoyable than the chaotic Minneapolis one — plus, the SPFM requires all the sellers to be local. Everything you purchase has been grown/baked/created within a small radius of the city. I may not be the greenest girl out there, but I do like to support local businesses as much as possible (which is easy to do here in the Twin Cities).

So, Saturday morning we headed over there, and everything was just...awesome. Strawberries, onions, snap peas and rhubarb galore, tons of fresh herbs, and lots of cut and plantable flowers. We picked up some strawberries for the fruit monster, some basil and mint for us, and some snap peas, which we tried to get Calvin to eat — he's still doing this with peas, though. I also got some fresh flowers for my dining room table, and some crazy good turtles from some guy selling chocolate.

Turns out it's easy to eat well when you have bowls of gorgeous, locally-grown produce sitting in your kitchen. Who knows, maybe I'll get a little crunchier and become part of the raw milk movement.

Or, more likely (much, much more likely), just turn off the water while I brush.