Heavenly scents, beginnings and the joy of child labor

In the past month I have driven 2100 miles with two small children, eaten at not one but two Arbys in New Mexico (never. again.) and uprooted my children from any semblance of a routine.  While we were on our odyssey my amazing husband finished painting the kids' rooms, cleaned the entire house and set up my clothesline.  I now dry our laundry next to our citrus tree, which is budding and smells like what I imagine heaven smells like.  Our clothes smell like lemon blossoms, not because I bought dryer sheets chemically enhanced with perfume, but because they have been steeping in lemon blossom scent all afternoon. 
I picked up a stray on the way home from Grand Junction.  My niece was on spring break and my sister had the brilliant idea of sending her down to Phoenix with us for a week.  So off we drove, myself and three kids headed for one really looonnnggg drive.  Two days later we made it home and I have to say that I would have left my sanity somewhere on the Navajo Nation if she hadn't been with us.  What followed was a week of indentured servitude if you ask my niece.  We harvested 120 lemons from my tree, leaving at least that many still on.  She and Sophie peeled a flat of tomatoes that we then turned into diced tomatoes and stewed tomatoes.  We spent two days peeling and juicing the aforementioned lemons.  The end result is that I have enough tomatoes to last us through a couple months of pizza and spaghetti sauce, 1 gallon of pure lemon juice, and 6 gallons of limoncello steeping.  I will take all suggestions on how to use the lemon juice, but I'm pretty sure I can figure out how to use the limoncello.  I sent my niece home on Friday, spent the weekend recuperating, and am happy to say the adventure starts tomorrow.  No more convenience food, no more high fructose corn syrup, and no more excuses.  In exchange we will gain more time together as a family, more knowledge and a simpler life.  I am excited, nervous, afraid and ready for the challenge.  Things may get dicey at times (a year without Baskin Robbins may push my husband to the breaking point) but I am so excited to see how small we can make our consumption footprint.  Here we go!