The smell of my father’s home made bread is something of the divine mixed with childhood memories that even the word nostalgia doesn’t seem to be good enough to describe. It brings a quiet sort of joy that almost makes me want to cry… almost. Not to mention ravenously hungry. Sadly he’s not baking it for today. The torture!! Tomorrow we are having a cookout so he’s been prepping all day for it. Pasta and potato salad and that ridiculously good bread now that the evening has cooled the house.

Little Bear slept the entire night last night and didn’t get up until about 6am this morning. Sadly I’m now in my “night owl” mode and I struggled all night to find sleep. It didn’t hit me until about 6:30am. It’s going to be a long battle to get me flipped back around. Shame that I had just backed off on the coffee too. Seems we will be best friends again. The plan is to wake all the boys up at 6:30am, their usual school hour, and just keep everyone running until the normal bedtime not that we’ve gotten Little Bear to stay up the entire day. Hopefully this will keep him and everyone else on a regular daytime wake cycle for awhile.

Would be nice if we were all night owls or all day peeps instead of this weird mix. Oh well, in the meantime maybe I can con my dad giving me some of that bread fresh out of the oven.