5:00 Fridays

Today's 5:00 Fridays post is a special creation for my friend Gina. Gina of Taste This! fame. You know, the cookbook? Yeah, I have a friend who wrote and published a real cookbook. Cool, eh? You might know Gina better as the Bowl Licker. Based on Bird and Deal's kitchen antics, especially when we bake together, I think her blog is aptly named.

So we're toasting today for Gina's birthday. Everyone wish Gina a big ole Happy Birthday, mkay?

Nevermind that I haven’t yet met this fellow foodie and cocktail maven on the left coast, though I count her among my friends. I have a hunch that when we meet we could very well gab for hours on end whilst shopping and sipping, leaving little room for breaths and pregnant pauses. Gina perks me up, makes me chuckle, and whets my appetite. I’m dying to pull up a barstool in her kitchen and nosh and toast and laugh.

I imagine Gina has a lovely kitchen. I bet she has really cute aprons too.

A little bird, known as Facebook, told me that Gina will be blowing out candles on a cake this week. Nevermind just how many candles. Since she’s the one who inspired me to start baking from scratch (I’m telling you, her blueberry muffins are sinfully delicious.), I’m pretty sure she’s indulging in a damn good cake. Let’s just say that I’m a better mixologist than a baker. I’ve concocted a little birthday cocktail for my friend Gina.

I’d whisk her away to a blue hued sea with white sand beaches and red pedicures if I could. We’d eat fresh fish, succulent pineapples, and sweet coconut juice. This must sound like a romantic rendezvous to some, but for mothers who work work work, paradise is a beach replete with libations and girlfriends where no one calls us Mommy.

So to toast Gina on her big day, here’s my little taste of paradise. Cheers!


Gina Bina Bobeena

Ingredients
1 ounce dark rum
1 ounce coconut rum
1 ounce banana liqueur
5 ounces pineapple juice
splash of grenadine
pineapple wedge and banana slice for garnish

Directions
Pour first three ingredients over ice in a high ball glass. Add pineapple juice and an ever so slight dash of grenadine. Skewer a pineapple wedge and banana slice to plop in as garnish.

Happy Birthday, Gina!

Wordless Wednesday: Meet Me at the Regal Beagle

My Latest Hang Up

You know how when you bring home all those teeny tiny itty bitty onesies and Jon-Jons that are so cute when your baby is the size of a sprinkle? You know how the outfits are so dang small that your husband couldn't wear them as mittens, much less snap the things? You know how you so gently washed them and folded and hung them on those precious little hangers that are impossibly adorable and fit for a pixie?

Remember how small they once were?

Being small equates to so much more than size. The utter smallness of a newborn son nestled in his Moses basket or better yet, upon your chest, is love and mortality and family and goodness at their finest. The simplicity of smallness. That smallness means miracle, responsibility, opportunity, potential, glory, dedication, future. That smallness is the starting line for the growth of a family and the bonding of a mother. The first drop of immense love that fills you up a thousand fold over. That smallness is larger than life.

And then they grow.

And grow.

I was almost awash in tears last night as I was putting away Bird's laundry. Yes, his laundry nearly drove me to tears. Granted, I hate laundry so it often drives me to whining hissy fits but this is not what I'm talking about. I caught a fat salty drop before it fell to my cheek. You see, Bird's teetering on the cusp of seven.

7. Years. Old.

His clothes aren't so small anymore. His clothes aren't even all that cute(sy) anymore. His shirts could pass as mine, and in fact, Mac Daddy often questions whose T-shirts are whose when he folds the laundry (Yes, I have a husband who folds laundry. I told you he is a keeper.). What made me weepy was that Bird's big boy clothes don't fit on the baby sized hangers anymore. Those tiny hangers that have been in his closet since the day we started stockpiling a baby wardrobe are now too small. My little Baby Bird is becoming a Big Bird. All that means to me is that he's slowly growing wings. To fly.

Away.

And all I can do is watch, beam, love, applaud.

And maybe shed a tear.

Fly, Bird, fly.

WRAL GoAskMom: I Get Around

While I might seem like a willy nilly blogger here at Dirt & Noise, I assure you I am no slacker. I've been writing at other places and have been too busy to even get the word out. It's ironic that I write about myself and am a marketer yet neglect to pimp myself effectively.

Don't hold it against me.

I'm contributing to WRAL's GoAskMom blog these days. Check out my post about eating out with kids here.

And if you want to read the weeks you missed, you can find them all here.