I’m hopping on the way-back machine today. Way back to the best Mother’s Day weekend followed by the worst two weeks of upper respiratory germ insanity.
Eating is my favorite. It’s true. If there’s anything I love to do it’s to find a good local restaurant and chow down. Phoenix has so many great options to choose from when it comes to food and has an incredibly supportive culture when it comes to local businesses. Here are a few of my (our) favorite spots to hit up lately…
Brunch tee here.
Happy Friday! This fun little story just came back to me from a few weeks ago when we took a trip to the farmer’s market. A little insight into the mind of a four year old.
Lately I’ve been loving flowers. I keep them on my desk, in my kitchen, wherever. It just makes me happy. So we took a little family trip to the farmer’s market to visit My Little Posy and pick up a bouquet, because why wouldn’t you shop for your flowers at a place that markets them as “Panty Dropper, So Good Makes You Want to Slap Yo’ Mama, Epic bouquets.” Yup. Count me in.
Other than the kale rose I don’t recall exactly what I bought but I know I picked some of the more expensive stems (and by expensive I mean $5 as opposed to $1)
Anyhoo, thinking my kiddo was in her own little world I was chatting it up with the owner of the shop who told me I was “just going to die when the flowers bloomed.”
Flash forward to that afternoon.
I’m putting away laundry and Rylie comes in to tell me she fell down the stairs because she was twirling on the railing. She was fine, no crying, all was well, she just wanted to let me know. I reminded her that is why we tell her not to play on the stairs because she could have been hurt a lot worse. This is when all hell breaks loose.
Kiddo starts screaming “you’re so mean you always call me mean and stinky and it’s not nice!”
Note, I have never called her mean or stinky.
She runs into her room and slams the door. This is a first. She refuses to go in her room alone for the most part and would never consider shutting the door. But this happened. My husband goes to check on her and she is sitting on the floor with a pair of scissors CUTTING my brand new flowers into tiny pieces all over her floor.
A few hours later she asks “mom, are you going to die now?” WHAT??? “The lady at the farmer’s market said you were going to die when the flowers opened.” Mouth drops.
I explained it was just a figure of speech and that I was going to be fine, but still in my mind I wonder, was she trying to save me, or kill me by cutting up those flowers?
A few days later she asked me what the green flower was called again. I told her it was a Kale Rose to which she responded, “no mom, remember it’s not going to kill you.”
Kill, kale, tomato, tomato.