The Wild Hog

The FamiLee has acquired a new set of wheels. We've always been a one-car family. May I speak to that from my soapbox for a mo? Because one of my favorite parts about my little family's life has been having one car. It has forced Loverpants and me to be good communicators, particularly about plans and arrivals and departures; since I am not a details person, this is excellent. Also, having to pretty much travel everywhere as a fambam is a blessing. You know what they say...Those who listen to "Little People: Merry Christmas" CD in July and get carsick together stay together! But now those of us with driver's licenses need to be hitherty thither and the public bus does not come to the tumbleweeds. The!

So Loverpants searched high and low for just the right chariot. After viewing the fair lady, Loverpants sent me a text. "I just fell off a scooter." Roughly 30 minutes passed and he sent me another text. "I bought a scooter."

So now we own a motorscooter. It's not a top shelf Vespa, but it gets the job done. It is so much fun! But it's serious fun, you know? You have to be exceedingly alert whilst driving the moto. The wind is whipping your elbows and you are reaching 40 mph and your mind is suddenly cogitating, My lands! My elbows are moving at 40 mph and they feel wind and I like my elbows! I need them! I'm scared for my elbows!!

The first couple of rides on the hobby horse, I was just a mess and I fell off and scraped the bike. But now, I'm not the worst at moto-ing my way around the tumbleweeds. Yip yip yaw.

I seriously hope this is not the last post that I type due to the fact that my elbows come unhinged the next time I drive that wild hog.

Identity

Hi. My name is Kendra Stanton Lee.

I am an American-born woman, a wife, and a mother of two.

I prefer to go by my full name. The family into which I was born and the family into which I chose to marry are equally important to me.

I have a master's degree. I was able to attend graduate school because my husband supported me: my dreams and my finances.

I teach full-time. I love my job. I like it when people ask me whether I like my job. I like it less when people ask me who cares for my children while I am working. When my husband worked three jobs, people never seemed to ask him the same question.

I was nursing my baby boy until two days ago. I love tucking my children into bed.

I believe my husband is the spiritual leader of our home. I do not, however, believe that he is always right.

I receive a paycheck in my name that is more than my husband earns per month. However, I believe we are both earning the same amount. Whatever is mine is his. It is unimportant whose name is on the paycheck because we are both working hard toward a goal united: to support our family.

I am uninterested in identifying myself as a feminist.

I more interested in claiming my personhood as woman who struggles mightily to be more like Jesus Christ.

There are women like I am everywhere.

Someday there may be more of us; I am raising one of them.

Sugar-laden

The last two weekends have been sugar covered, and then dipped in another layer of sugar which was then blanched in sugar. My lands, the sweetness that was overflowing... Last weekend the wee ones attended four Easter Egg hunts which is three more apiece than any child needs to attend/year. There are many secret benefits to living in an insular Christian community and these secret benefits live in the form of a marshmallow Peep tucked covertly inside a pink plastic egg. Ho ho, and there were many of them.

Photographic evidence:

HIIIIIGH AS A KITE.

One particular egg hunt was sponsored exclusively by our landlords for our children and was followed by a tractor ride around the property.

Tennesseein' is Tennebelievin,' y'all.

*** This past weekend has been equally sweet and marvelous. On sabbath, I got to hear some of my talented students sing in a Gospel Choir. I know there is a large-lunged Gospel singer inside of me trying to beat her way out, but until she breaks through, I am going to leave the work to my students. They are amazing.

Today we got to go to an Elmo Birthday party hosted by a Salvadorean mama and a Dominican papa. Can we agree that Latinos throw the best parties? I think that vote was unanimous. In Heaven, I want my neighbors to be Latinos. Or! Maybe in Heaven I will BE a Latino Gospel singer/party planner. Put that in your cereal box and call it a prize.

But prior to the party, we had our own little shindibble here at the headquarters. It was really an excuse to clean our house, let's be honest, that happens about quarterly. But some of my faves came over.

Photographic evidence:

I made Meyer Lemon Ricotta Pancakes with Mascerated Strawberry Coulis. I am going to be forthcoming here and confess that I didn't use Meyer Lemons. I used your boring ol' standard lemon and mixed in the juice from mandarin oranges. Bladow! Done. And I used half whole wheat flour. But the ricotta adds such a nice consistency to this pancake. I'd say it was worth it to circumscribe Aunt Jemima on this one. 'Scuse me, Auntie J. Gonna go a different route this time.

I also made Key Lime Creme Brulee.

I used the blond Oreos for the crust. Probably overly sweet. But as we have established already, I am not a Gospel singer, a Latino party planner, nor am I a French afficionado of subtle sweets. I am an over-sugared American woman that bakes accordingly. And I now own a torch. Beware.