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Sunday we got two kittens! As if our life wasn’t crazy enough… we now have two 8-week-old kittens in the mix, making it just that much crazier.

It was time though. Our cat Cooper died almost a year ago, and his sister Ashley died three years before that. To be honest, it has been really nice not having any pets. Just one less thing in the equation has been nice. But at the same time we missed it—mostly, Braydon and I missed it for the kids; it just seems like the bambinos should have a pet! And the only pets we thought we could muster up the capacity to handle were cats. So, we’ve been looking for kittens.

The other day I saw a “Free Kittens” sign on the side of the road. I stopped, and sure enough, the folks brought out a litter of kittens which included two – I swear it – clones of Ashley and Cooper. All I could think was that there they were: Ashley and Cooper reincarnated, ready to come back and live with us again. I said, “We’ll take ‘em!” And we went to pick them up on Sunday afternoon.

It was a big event. As surely anyone reading this blog can just imagine. Big event. Big big big huge huge huge event for the bambinos.

On the ride home we named them Hudson (a boy), and Quinn (a girl). They are named after the Hudson River and Quinnipiac River— two rivers near us. [Cooper and Ashley, who Braydon and I got while we lived in Charleston, SC, were named after the Cooper River and Ashley River which frame the peninsula of Charleston.]

Upon arriving home the sweet little tiny kittens were played with, held, fed, handled, and generally over-stimulated more than any animal should ever have to be. And yet… these kittens?… they took it all in stride. It is as if these two were made for this crazy family they happened to have found their way into. Yes, it must have been meant to be. It seems they just fit right in.

By bedtime the first night, the kittens were exhausted and very happy for the calm of sitting on two very happy boys’ laps for bedtime books. 

And then?… those two kittens fell fast asleep.

When it was time to get into bed, Owen and Hudson climbed into Owen’s bed and Kyle and Quinn climbed into Kyle’s. No kidding. The kittens slept with them for the first part of the night… purring up a sweet little kitten storm… and making two boys the happiest two boys on the planet.  This nighttime routine of cat-naps-with-bedtime-books, followed by boys-and-kittens-sleeping-together has happened for all three nights in a row that we’ve had the kittens. Sweet sweet craziness!

As much as it is crazy to bring kittens into this fold, we are so happy to have them. They are just what we needed. Seriously! We needed these kittens to love and be loved by. Owen, especially, is absolutely enamored with the kittens and soaking up every second of the love. And he, especially, is heart-warming to watch with them.

Surely there will be plenty of Hudson and Quinn stories appearing in the days/weeks/years to come! In the meantime, Project #1 = Teach Meera Not To Strangle The Kittens. Fun times here in never-a-dull-moment-land!

Yesterday we spent the day at the boys’ school for Fall Fest. I think it is safe to say that at this point we’ve officially fallen in love with United Friends School. Everything is in place for us at this school. The diversity (not just in numbers, but in the genuine culture and climate of the place) is –for where we live— out of this world incredible. The school’s philosophies – both the Quaker philosophies and the teaching philosophies – are right in line with our family’s values. It is a supportive environment for dual-career families. And the place and the people are just plain fun. Fun fun fun fun fun. I keep waiting to discover the dark side, but haven’t found it yet. Of course the place is not perfect, but I’m pretty confident that it is – at least for now – about as perfect as it is ‘gonna get. And so, we are just so grateful (and so crossing our fingers that we’ll be able to financially manage to keep our kids there).

M, K, and O mesmerized by KO’s Hip Hop Cello-Beatbox Experience! It is all over the web, but if you haven’t seen it yet, definitely check it out!

This week Braydon started teaching K & O how to play chess. They’ve become slightly obsessed with it.

Kyle, September 2005, age 16 months, home 8 months

Adoption. Have you ever thought about it? I know many of our readers are members of adoptive families. We also have many readers who aren’t connected in any way to adoption. And we have some readers who I know for a fact are in the process of considering adoption— either a first adoption, or another adoption in a family that’s adopted before. Has the thought ever entered your mind? You know, the adoption thought? Do you feel a slight tug to think about it? Or a strong urge to act on it? I’m going to share some of my own thoughts on the matter. Here is what I tell people who ask me about adoption [and I do get asked a lot]:

1. Adoption is not for wimps. It really is not. Adoption is hard and it stretches us in ways we could never foresee. Adoption is risky business, and a huge leap of faith. It is not for the faint of heart. Adoption in some places is even more complicated and challenging than in others. Haiti, for example, for all sorts of reasons, involves an especially tough adoption process. Adoption is not for everyone. And for those whose hearts, minds, and bodies aren’t fully compelled to do it, adoption is not the way to go.

• There. I said it:
• Yes, I believe that if adoption is not for you, then you shouldn’t do it. (For as desperate and dire are the needs for adoptions, it doesn’t help anyone for families who aren’t cut out for it to adopt.)

2. However… if it is in you to adopt… and you have a decent grasp of what you’re getting into, and still have it in you to do it, then… I fully believe… you should adopt. Because not enough people will adopt. So those of us who can –I believe— should.

• There. I said it:
• Yes, I do believe that those of us who can adopt, should. (With the caveats that: 1. we feel truly moved to do it, and 2. we understand—at least as much as possible—what we are getting ourselves into.)

3. And lastly, I always tell people this: For me, personally, adoption has been the greatest, hugest, best thing I’ve done with my life. Nothing else even comes close. Adoption is the truest miracle I know. It is far and away the most amazing experience I’ve ever had. And it –more than anything else— continues to fill me with awe each and every day.

• There. I said it:
• Yes, as a woman who has both adopted and ‘gone the biological route,’ I can tell you that for me adoption is unparalleled. (I absolutely loved and am grateful for every part of being pregnant, giving birth, nursing, and mothering Meera, but I will tell you that my own experience of adoption is that it is miraculous beyond compare.)

I do not push adoption on this blog. Nor anywhere else. I never will. But today I am asking you to think about it.

There are precious souls who need families.

On that note, here is what I want to share~~~   I am proud to call Tara Livesay my friend. If you don’t already know of her, you can find her blogging from Haiti here (click). A few days ago she emailed me to ask me to blog about a precious little boy that needs a loving family. I have been composing this blog post in my mind ever since. So, here it is folks: If you are reading this, and the door to adoption is open even the slightest crack for you right now, will you please consider searching your heart to help find a family for Moses? You can read about Moses here (click).  Questions? Email me at hbj2 (at) lehigh (dot) edu.

Please help to spread the word via blogs, FB, twitter, on the playground, over lunch with a friend.

Let’s find a family for Moses ASAP.

The best day of my life—  at the Port au Prince airport, about to board our plane home:

7 months later, our first summer together, thriving~~

We’ve had this blog running for almost five years now. Over those years we’ve had some pretty amazing experiences with readers. While yes, we’ve had our share of bad experiences with readers (and continue to have them… believe me, we’re regular receivers of nasty negative comments, and we’ve dealt with more-than-enough blog-related-ugliness, and I often question why on earth we keep doing this), the overwhelming majority of blog-reader-experiences we’ve had have been very positive and very affirming.

Yesterday, however, something happened that shot right to the top of our “Best Ever Blog Related Experiences” list.

The bambinos and I got home after work/school/soccer/etc. to find a package waiting for us outside our door. This is always exciting for K & O – who love opening packages of all types, regardless of who they are addressed to (this box was addressed to me, but that doesn’t stop them from tearing it open). The return address was a Maine address I didn’t recognize. We ran inside and sat on the floor of the kitchen to open it right up.

And inside…   there was…  the sweetest things ever…   from…   a blog reader! It was fan mail! It was a care package! It was one of the nicest things that has ever happened.

Inside were two beautiful and thoughtfully chosen children’s books. And three huge whoopie pies. And two of the kindest, sweetest handwritten notes I’ve ever read (one addressed to the bambinos, one addressed to Braydon and me).

The package was from Shannon. She’s been a loyal blog reader for a long time. She wrote to us about how much our blog has touched her. I have to say that I’m pretty sure that her care package touched us at least as much as we’ve touched her.

It was an unusually warm October evening and we ate outside on the porch. After dinner K, O, and M swam in the pool— probably the last swim of the season. I had told them that they could open up the whoopie pies for dessert. Here they are, after just having opened them up (they are not quite sure what to make of them at first!)~~

And then they dug in:

The whoopie pies were good (Shannon: fyi— they liked them a lot!), but even better because of where they had come from. This was a seriously sweet moment in the history of the J-M Family Blog. Thank you Shannon!

Oh, and, I’m just putting it out there: If anyone else wants to send us care packages, we’re here for the receiving of them! I’m just sayin’— we love a care package! (and we’ll even post pictures of us enjoying whatever you, dear readers, want to send us!) wink wink!

I have some good memories, from when I was little, of the warmth of home. With two very ambitious and very social parents, our family life was often busy. But I remember plenty of times when I was washed over by the true and simple comforts of home. Most symbolic for me is deep memory of the sound of John Denver playing on the record player. This was the 70s, and the world seemed huge, but that music flooded my life with a stillness, a peacefulness, a restfulness that held everything in tact. The house would be calm, everyone accounted for, the day done, and all was right in my world. I felt totally solid in those moments, and they happened often enough to ground me. I get teary now if I hear John Denver. It is a good teary.

As I watch my own three littles now, getting fully into the groove of a new school year, I can see the frenetic nature of their lives. School, daycare, soccer, errands, homework, drop-off, pick-up, events and appointments and commitments always on the calendar. Lots going on, with never enough down time. I work so hard to not over-schedule them (a challenge for me in this crazy world we live in), and I actively plan in resting time, but still, their lives are rarely still. 

So I hold strong to those “Family Weekends” on the calendar (weekends I’ve often scheduled in weeks in advance) when we do little-to-nothing with anyone beyond our tightest-inner-circle-of-five, and when we hole up in our home, our Resting Place. These weekends, I hope, are the John Denver of my bambinos’ childhoods. My whole goal is to flood us with a stillness, a peacefulness, a restfulness that will hold everything in tact.

By the end of last week I was thanking our lucky stars that we had a Family Weekend on the calendar. It was just what we all needed to refill our love tanks.

While Papi took Meera to ballet on Saturday morning (so that he could see her dance)…

Mommy took the boys out for some alone-time, waffles, and hot chocolate.

And after that, we were home for the rest of the weekend. We played with bubbles…

We played with fairies…

Four of us played Uno…

And one of us played with a black marker…

Two of us played “baby”…

And the five of us had company for Sunday brunch.

We watched movies (Fly Away Home just never gets old), snuggled up in the family room, trying to remember that everything else can wait until Monday.

It was a good weekend.

“Perhaps love is like a resting place.” ~John Denver

If you somehow managed to miss last week’s Missoni for Target craze, you can read about it here, here, here, or any other hundreds of places online. I was aware of it (who wasn’t?), and had absolutely no intention of getting anywhere near caught up in it. But I had to make a Target run on Thursday for a bunch of errands, and since Meera was home last week, I took her with me. We walked in the front door of Target at 8:45 am, after having dropped K & O off at school. Given that this was just about exactly 48 hours post-Missoni-launch, in the back of my mind I was definitely curious if our local Target was going to have any Missoni left. Meera, on the other hand, had no clue about Missoni (rightly so— she’s THREE). We grabbed a cart, I put Meera in the kid’s seat, and started digging in my bag for my shopping list. Before I could even get the list out I hear Meera: “Mama! Mama! Look!!!! Looooook!” She’s screeching with a high pitched voice as she does only when she’s most extremely excited. “What?!” I say, and I look up to her pointing enthusiastically and practically jumping out of the cart. I look toward where she’s pointing. And there, set up right at the entrance area to the Target, is a metal rack with about 10 or 12 random pieces of clothing hanging on it, and a hand-written sign taped above it (someone had scrawled with a Sharpie on a piece of paper) that read: “MISSONI – what we have left.” I could not believe it. Thinking that there was no way this could possibly be happening with my THREE year old, I looked back at Meera and said, “What Meera?” She’s wildly pointing and trying to get out of the cart, “Mama! Look! Look! I LOVE IT!” I help her out of the cart and she literally runs to the rack. There are random pieces of Missoni— a size 10 girls jacket; a pair of women’s size XL knit tights; a size 18 month jumpsuit; and…  believe it or not…  a size XS (4-5) toddler girls’ poncho sweater…. which Meera is enthusiastically pulling at, jumping up and down, trying to get off the rack (NO JOKE). “What? You like this?” I say. She’s never seen Missoni in her life (we don’t even have TV, so she’s never even seen a Target ad). “Yeeeeeeeeeeeeees!” she squeals as she tries to pull it off the hanger. ‘Oh-My-God’ I think to myself, ‘what-is-this-about?!’ I helped her try it on and she ran to the closest mirror she could find. Standing behind her I watched as she admired herself completely. And then she looked up at me through the mirror, smiled shyly, and said, “Mama please can I have it?” I could not resist. She wore it through the rest of the store, took it off only for it to be run through the register so I could pay for it, and then insisted on putting it right back on. She wore it the whole next day, including to a doctor’s appointment that morning, and to a party we went to that night. And she’s been wearing it a lot ever since. Meera’s Missoni.

(for the story, see post below)

Meera Grace is a girl who knows what she needs and wants. She’s got a strong center and she chooses her battles carefully. She lets the little stuff roll off her. But when it comes to the big deals in her life, she is not afraid to put herself out there and go for what she wants. She’s relatively quiet, but very expressive (again, she chooses her battles). She is the epitome of go-with-the-flow, but at the big forks in the road she has always led her own way— often prompting the rest of us to sit up and take note that we even are at a fork (Meera often pushes the envelope long before we even see the envelope coming).

These things have been true about Meera since the day she was born. She decided when she was ready to stop nursing; she pushed us to start solid foods early; she jump started the switch from bottles to sippy cups; she wanted out of a crib and into a big girl bed; she potty trained herself; she told us when she was ready to start school; and everyone knows that she decides what she will and won’t wear. She doesn’t throw fits about these things, rather she just calmly and collectedly lets us know exactly what she wants and needs, and then tenaciously makes sure it happens. She’s typically sweet and polite. But she’s also strong-willed and independent. It takes a lot to push her buttons, but when they are pushed, she’s got a fierce temper. She’s a gentle soul and a force to be reckoned with. All at the same time. It is a complex mix.

Last December, when Meera was exactly 2.5 years old, she decided she was done staying home with our nanny Margie. Margie had been taking care of Meera for just about two years and was a major pillar of our family. Braydon and I had hoped that Margie would be with us forever (or at least until the bambinos’ had all graduated high school). But Meera suddenly had other ideas. Seemingly out of the blue she started telling us that she wanted to go to school. It started with a simply stated, “Mommy, I want to go to my own school” one day, and then quickly ramped up to a barrage of sure and steady “I want my own school”; and “I want you to drop me off”; and “I want my own teacher”; and “I don’t want to stay home with Margie.” Within a week or two Meera was – in her gentle but determined manner – all over us about this and it soon became clear that she not only knew exactly what she was saying, but that she was dead serious about it. Along with a lot of other things that we’ve learned from Meera, we’ve learned that it is important to listen and take her seriously. And so we did. We started looking into daycare options for Meera.

Meera, early January 2011 

We found a daycare that we really liked. But they had a waiting list until September. We tried to get Meera on board with waiting until the fall, but she was having none of it. We went to our #2 daycare and signed her up to begin. And then we had to do something that was really, really hard. We had to let Margie go. What helped was that Margie knew Meera so well, and she agreed that starting daycare was the right thing for her. What hurt was losing the daily presence of someone who had become such a central part of our family’s life. For two years Margie was a major source of strength, comfort, and confidence for our family. She had come to hold so much of our mode-of-operation together. Margie loved us all, and we all loved Margie, but she had cared for (and loved) Meera since she was a tiny baby, and the two of them had spent so much time together and shared such a special bond.

   Margie and Meera in the kitchen, early in the morning on one of Margie’s last days of work at our house

 Meera at age 1, eating Puerto Rican food; Margie didn’t cook for us often, but on the rare occasions that she did we all loved her cooking— Meera especially couldn’t get enough of it

To this day I believe that a lot of Meera’s strength of character and gentle manner come in large part from Margie. She was a wonderful nanny for Meera and an important presence in Meera’s early personality development. It was really hard to say goodbye to Margie. We are still in regular contact, but it will never be the same as having her at our house every week. Soon enough, Margie had a new nanny job with another family, and we were getting Meera ready for her first day of “school.” We knew with full confidence that we were doing the right thing because Meera was letting us know. She was happy, self-assured, and sure of herself. We had a special dinner the night before she started (her favorite meal: grilled steak, mashed potatoes, and broccoli). And we gave her a new pink backpack (and Kyle and Owen took about a million photos of her with their iPods). The next day she was more than ready for her first day and couldn’t wait to start.

Meera’s first day of school, January 25, 2011

Her first day of daycare drop-off was something I’ll probably never forget. We took her in, hugged her goodbye, and off she went. She did not bat an eye. She did not shed a tear. Nothing but smiles and a calm centeredness about her that gave us total affirmation that this was exactly what she wanted (and probably needed). Every day after was just like the first. While I often had a lump in my throat dropping Meera off (and sometimes even cried on my way to work about having to leave her), she seemed to be nothing but confidently happy with daycare. After three months of smooth tearless drop-offs and happy daycare days the director of the daycare pulled me aside and told me that in all of her years of working in childcare facilities she had never seen a child adjust as smoothly as Meera. By late spring Meera was absolutely thriving at “school” and loving life. The best part, for her, was her friends. As an outside observer I was becoming really intrigued by the fact that it really seemed to me that Meera and her girlfriends were, at age just-turning-3, really-truly-genuinely tight tight tight friends. In and outside of school.

We pulled Meera out of daycare for the summer— something I don’t regret for a second (she had a fabulous summer at home with her brothers), but I knew she missed her friends. We had playdates, but that doesn’t compare to being together everyday. And here is the real kicker: she was no longer on the waiting list for our original 1st choice daycare—she now had a spot to start there in September. People wait months and months (people including us; we waited 8 months) to get into this place. It is “the best.” A gorgeous state-of-the-art facility, beautiful hardwood floors, huge windows with natural light all pouring in; teachers with all sorts of certifications; and a list of awards a mile long. How could we not jump at the chance for Meera to start preschool there? She was signed up to begin in September at her “new school.”

Summer ended and the first day of school came. Meera was beyond excited for her “new school.” Her visit the week before had gone as well as could be expected, and we were excited for her to have the opportunity to be at such a lovely place. Drop off was a breeze as she confidently jumped right in.

We picked her up that day and I immediately knew that something was not right. I’m her mama and I know; she didn’t whine or complain, but it was written all over her face. On the car ride home that day she told her brothers and me that she didn’t like her new school and wants to go back to her old school. I hoped it was just a little adjustment thing, but I suspected –knowing my daughter— that it wasn’t. The next morning she said she didn’t want to go to school— something she had never done any morning at her prior school. And this continued for her entire first week. I spent some time observing in her classroom and I started to feel like I could understand where she was coming from— there was something palpably more cold about this place; something less welcoming about the teachers and the kids; a beautiful facility but a culture that seemed (dare I say it: way too white and upper crust) and slightly ‘off.’  This was “the best” but if Meera wasn’t happy there, it was not the best for us. That weekend we started having serious conversations about switching her back to her old school. Conversations within our family, within our inner circle, with Meera’s old teacher, and with Meera.

By Monday we had decided that we’d move Meera back to her old daycare. They said we could start the following Monday. We didn’t have the heart to send her back to the new place. So Braydon and I did one of the things we do best: we sat down and strategized our crisis management— How to juggle our schedules, re-schedule and cancel all sorts of things, and move stuff around so that we could cover Meera for a week of no childcare? We had a semi-insane week, but we pulled it off, and every day Meera let us know we were doing the right thing by her. She communicates so clearly if we take the time to listen.

And so, this morning, she started school again. Back to her old place with raggedy old carpeting and fluorescent lighting and no reputation of being “the best.” Back to her old place with loving teachers and a welcoming (incredibly diverse) culture and – most importantly for Meera: her tight little group of girlfriends. No big prestigious awards are being won there. But because of Meera, they’ve won this family. If Meera is happy, then it is “the best” as far as we’re concerned.

At  pick up today Meera did not want to leave. She was on the playground swinging on the swings with her friend Savannah. I watched as the two of them giggled up a storm as only 3-year-old girls can do. Meera was happy. On the drive home she told us that school was “great!” and that her day was “pretty awesome!” She can’t wait to go back tomorrow.

I’m so glad we heard her.

So, that’s the story of Meera and school. For now. “Chapter 1” we might call it. I can only imagine what the future holds for this girl. (But I’m pretty sure she’ll know exactly where she wants to go to college. And God willing, we’ll hopefully be able to send her there.)

Dear Meera,

Please keep your calm and centered soul always within you. It is so soothing to all those around you. And please keep your tenacious spirit. It is deeply inspiring. Never feel ashamed for making clear what you want and need. And always surround yourself with people who will do their best to give you what you ask for. You are special.

Love, Your Mommy

We spent the weekend hosting a little mini-reunion with my two best friends from grad school. Although technically our heyday was our years in Boston as twenty-somethings bonding over the oftentimes torturous process of getting a PhD and all that’s involved with really growing up— we have managed to hold tight to each other for the past fifteen (or so) years. And although we’re also professionally connected via academic sociology, we have managed to also continue to be true friends that go way above and beyond any occupational realm. And although it is, at the core, our female friendship ties that bind, our significant others are fully in the fold too. We are good old friends. And so it lasts and it transcends time and change and living in different states and a bunch of kids now running around and everything else. And now it has been a bunch more years since our heyday than the number of years of our heyday. And, it reminds me, as we’ve been talking about a lot with Kyle and Owen over the past few days: “Make new friends, but keep the old, one is silver and the other’s gold.” There is nothing like a good old friend (or two). It was a really good weekend.

Untitled event

1. Gwyneth. Regular readers now surely know how much I love Gwyneth Paltrow’s cookbook (I’ve mentioned it on this blog more than once, the first time being here: click), so I won’t go on and on and on about my adoration. But really, it is really good! Sometime mid-summer I made Gwyneth’s “Best Stir-Fried Chicken” and it was a huger-than-huge hit with my entire little family— everyone cleaned their plates (and Owen actually, literally, licked his). I’ve been making it regularly ever since.

2. Rice Steamer. What even the most regular-of-readers don’t know (because I haven’t posted about it yet) is that for Mother’s Day this year I asked for, and got, my currently-most-prized-possession in the kitchen: a really good rice steamer. I had been wanting a rice steamer for a long while, so when the time came (I can always count on Mother’s Day to get a really great new kitchen gadget! ha!), I made sure I did my research to find a good one. A friend whose advice in these arenas I trust suggested this one, and I have not been disappointed: the Oyama CFS-B18U All Stainless Rice Cooker! A rice steaming dream come true!

3. Makoto. Another thing I’ve never posted about is my love of Makoto Ginger Dressing. This salad dressing is really good for a store-bought dressing (in my grocery store I find it refrigerated in the produce section). I love the Makota Ginger Dressing so much that when I haven’t had it in a few weeks I start craving it. No kidding!

THE DINNER. Pull these three things together and BAM! A super easy, super tasty dinner! (This dinner has quickly become a regular in our rotation – not an easy feat to accomplish! Quick enough to make on a weeknight!)

• Chicken: see recipe below
• Rice: we J-Ms prefer plain steamed brown rice, but go for white if you prefer (or get fancy, like Gwyneth; she suggests her cookbook’s fried rice with kale recipe to go with the chicken), and if you don’t have a rice steamer no problem— just cook up some rice however you like to cook it
• Salad: I like to toss some greens and some fresh Mung bean sprouts with the Makoto dressing as an incredibly fast/easy combo… but really anything tossed with the Makoto dressing is awesome (if you can’t find Makoto then make some ginger dressing of your own, or find some other good brand of Asian dressing)
• Veggie: not necessary to have an extra veggie when we’ve got the salad already, but we can never seem to get enough veggies around here and Meera is particularly fond of sugar snap peas these days… I just quickly steam them (or we eat them raw)

Ta Da! Try this, and then tell me how much you and yours love it!

* * *

Best Stir-Fried Chicken, recipe directly from Gwyneth’s cookbook

4 skinless, boneless chicken breasts, cut into small cubes
2 tbsp cornstarch
Coarse salt
Freshly ground black pepper
2 tbsp vegetable oil
1/4 cup peeled and minced garlic
1/4 cup peeled and minced ginger
1/2 cup minced green scallions (white & green parts)
Pinch red chili flakes (optional)
1/2 cup rice wine vinegar
1/2 cup dark brown sugar
2 tbsp soy sauce
2 tbsp coarsely chopped fresh cilantro

Toss the chicken with cornstarch, a large pinch of salt and quite a bit of pepper. Heat oil in large, non-stick wok over medium-high heat. Add the garlic, ginger, scallions and chile flakes (if using) and cook, stirring, for one minute. Add the chicken and cook, stirring occasionally, for five minutes. Add the vinegar, sugar, and five or six grinds of black pepper. Boil on high for three minutes, or until the sugar has caramelized and the whole mixture is dark brown and sticky and lovely. Add the soy sauce, and cook for another 30 seconds. Serve immediately, sprinkled with cilantro. 

Yesterday was Braydon and I’s 10th wedding anniversary. We’ve got something on the calendar for next month for the two of us to celebrate that in a big way. In the meantime, to mark the occasion yesterday, we had a Party of 5 for breakfast at Friendly’s before school. The bambinos thought this was the greatest most special thing ever: to go out for breakfast (at Friendly’s!) on a school day! I have to admit: it was pretty darn fun!