My niece had a really cool birthday party where her and her friends all got to model for a photo shoot. They left the party with great memories and cool photos to share on Facebook.
On a whim, I stopped at an antique store yesterday. I’m always looking for photo props, and I thought it would be fun to look around. (As much fun as a person can have while having heart palpitations watching her kids touch everything!)
The main thing that made it worth visiting, though, was the smell as I walked in the door. It was as if I had just walked into Grandma June’s house. Such a rush of nostalgia…missing my grandparents and wishing life wasn’t zipping by so fast!
This antique store had room after room of goodies. We walked into a tiny room with such an odd assortment of items. The main piece in the room was a gas stove. I can’t even begin to tell you how perfect this would be for our house. (This distracted me so much, I didn’t even notice the guns hanging beside it!)
I’d imagine a stove exactly like this one once graced our kitchen, right next to the white metal 50’s cabinets and stainless steel countertops that are still there.
This stove has a broiling compartment on the left. This makes the actual baking portion on the right rather small. (Guess they figured out to combine those a bit later.) Shouldn’t matter much to a girl who barely cooks! In our house, the stove’s practically just a decoration anyway.
On top of the stove were the original pamphlets. Who saves pamphlets for 60 years? Somebody who takes very good care of their stove, that’s who! A stove like that has to be in fine working order, right?
And, it’s a bargain!
Think “Mr. Safety Management” Mark will go for it? Or, maybe the more important question is…
When did I get so old I started drooling over a stove?
The terrible 3’s have hit. None of my children got the terrible twos, but watch out when the threes came along! Almost to the exact date of their birthdays, horns popped out of their skulls and little miniature teenagers replaced my sweet, precious toddlers. Jordyn is determined to top any and all of her brothers’ antics.
We stop at McDonald’s. Jordyn declares that she has to be fed first before her brothers.
Ummm…I think you just guaranteed yourself to be the last one served, girly!
When I wouldn’t get Jordyn cereal because she had let the Pop-tarts she asked for sit there and go to waste, I hear, “Mom, you’re stupid!”
Oh no, you didn’t! Thus begins a half hour of temper tantrums from her place in the corner.
My favorite was when Jordyn all out refused to get into the shopping cart at Target, and I looked like an abusive mother forcing her into the cart while she hollered at the top of her lungs, “I don’t like you anymore! I want to walk!!! I’m not getting in!”
I can’t remember what even triggered it the other day, but I struggled to have a phone conversation with my sister while on the way to the lake because Jordyn screamed and screamed.
The thing is, I don’t know where she gets this from. I was the perfect child, never a peep or cry. Truly, I remember every detail of my angelic existence. I’m pretty sure Jordyn is an exact copy of my sister, Angie (the ornery one).
Anyway, when Jordyn went into what I thought was diva-mode the other day, I was close to having had enough. Here’s the run-down.
J: Mom, make Nathan quit!!!
M: Quit what?
J: He’s going to break my heart!
(Here I’m thinking she’s copying off of Ben who declares that he can’t quit sucking his thumb because his heart “won’t let him”.)
M: Oh, really? Do enlighten me. How in the world is Nathan going to break your heart?
J: He’s standing on my heart, and it’s going to break. (Full on diva crying follows.)
M: Nathan, what are you doing that’s making her so mad?
Of course, he’s not going to tell me anything, but, it turns out, Nathan really was standing on Jordyn’s heart…her Lucy Locket heart shaped dollhouse that we had just bought at a garage sale.
Guess I better cut her a break on this one.