Shortbread and Embroidery and Neuroses

Between Adelaide asking why I don't write on here anymore and my half-hearted claims that I still occasionally update this thing in our last Christmas newsletter, I've been feeling a push to get on here and write something, anything, even though I know that the first few times I write after not having written in so long the results are a charming cross between drivel and plain trash.  So now my intention is to get a couple garbage posts up that grease the metaphorical wheels, and see if maybe this is something I can sustain.  I will admit that my expectations are low.

Part of the problem is me.  My writing style is Full Diva; I need a big chunk of silent, uninterrupted time, and that is not something that happens to me anymore.  Someone always needs something from me.  This is not complaint; I know there are lots of lonely humans out there who would love to discuss the inner workings and motivations of professional soccer players or long-dead (or almost dead) British rockers.  When I'm on here, tappity-tap-tapping away and I'm interrupted by a kid or a text or a whatever, I feel instant rage, and that's not fair to whomever is a-knocking.

Okay, so to be perfectly honest, I do get chunks of silent, uninterrupted time.  I make this happen by getting up between 5:00 and 5:20 a.m. most days.  I could spend that hour writing rather than running.  I could.  But I will not.


When last we met, I was in paperwork/red tape/bureaucratic hell trying to get all the various forms for the various school and governmental agencies sorted.  That is more or less done, although the trash company in Iowa only just stopped sending us monthly bills a few weeks ago after we made yet another phone call asking why they were so obsessed with us (gratuitous Mean Girls quote:  five points).

The kids are all doing well in school.  My prayers that the kids would be granted kind, compassionate teachers were answered.  That, or we're living in one of the few states that is known for paying its teachers reasonably well and it turns out that actually does benefit students.  Or it's a mix of the two.  The Lord works in mysterious ways, after all.

I have a full-time job.  I started said job a few days after that last blog post back in August, and looking back I'm wondering why I only mentioned the part-time library job and not the full-time library job I was about to begin at an entirely different library.  Knowing me the way I do, I was probably worried I'd accidentally stitch all my flaws onto my work attire in my sleep (in beautiful, flowing script, because these are still my dreams), my new boss would read them the minute I walked in the door, and I'd be fired straight away.  My fears don't often make sense.  But, here I am, those same fears driving me to curse the motion sensor light mounted on our back shed/barn/thingy as I peer over the bottom of the windowsill and tell myself for the thousandth time that it's probably just one of the neighborhood cats strolling by, not the person who I'm sometimes* quite sure lives in our shed, unbeknownst to the hapless family living only a few hundred feet away.

Let's see, what else?  Kids?  Check.  My newish job?  Check.  Shed dweller?  Check.

Derek!  Derek is really enjoying his new job.  It's sports and oftentimes high pressure, two things at which he excels.  No, I don't understand those parts of his personality.

I'm sure there are many more vitally important things to report, but all I can think to say for tonight is that I made the recipe for Salted Butter Chocolate Chunk Shortbread on Smitten Kitchen's website yesterday.  The three males in the family thought it was decent.  Adelaide and I loved it.  Were I to do it again, I would lessen the amount of flour by 1/4- 1/2 cup; the dough ended up overly crumbly.  It is shortbread, so if you plan on making it, brace yourself for an indecent amount of butter used.

Also, I have taken up hand embroidery.  I've only completed one project, but I'm still allowing myself to say that it is something I now do.  It is delightful and strangely addictive, and doesn't require large chunks of silent time.  I am even now on the prowl for my next pattern so this one on my wall doesn't have to look so lonely.  This newest hobby plus the fact that I am freaking out about how it's almost 10:00 and I won't get enough sleep is enough, I think, to earn my solid placement in the Early Old Lady Club.  I've always been precocious.

This is smaller than it appears, maybe 4x4".

*anytime it's dark out and/or I actually have to go in there alone

So Misunderstood

Last Sunday we awoke to our first real accumulation of snow this season.  It was only a few inches, but it was still enough to excite our children and have Adelaide exclaiming, "Finally!  I was beginning to think we weren't going to get any snow this winter."  It was December 4th.

Because it's December, I've been venturing outside of my usual stores (Aldi, Fareway, and Aldi) to do some Christmas shopping.  This is always a highly entertaining time, because since I'm not used to visiting such a vast array of stores, so many of their contents are a novelty to me.  Behold:

Derek's mom gave me three small, conical foam trees a few years ago, and I'm just now getting to doing something with them, because our children are finally all old enough that I can do things like get out the hot glue gun without fearing for anyone's lives or digits.  I've hot glued pennies all over one (the effect is cooler than it sounds), but what to do with the other two?  I saw these and Hello, Inspiration!  A tree covered in eyeballs!

And another in hair!

Fortunately I walked out of the store with neither eyeballs nor hair, and with the fresh air returned my sanity.  Still looking for ideas as to what to cover those foam trees in, though, if you care to share.  Not strictly opposed to body parts.  (Oh, to be a fly on the wall when Derek reads this.)


In addition to such exotic stores as Target and Hobby Lobby, I'm on Pinterest more often this time of year (Christmas crafting, huzzah!), and for some reason Pinterest seems to be under the mistaken assumption that I'm one of those higher level, crazy-super-healthy eaters, so it keeps grossing me out with "Suggested Pins" like this one.

I mean, really, Pinterest, isn't the fact that I pinned this

and this

and this

 enough of a clue?

Now, I won't be eating all of those in the same week, but make no mistake, I will be eating them.  I'm not interested in your ocean witch's brew, Pinterest, even if it would prolong my life by five (sad and hungry) years.

Atticus, Art Director

I saw an article the other day whose title went something like "A Thanksgiving Centerpiece Constructed in Only Thirty Minutes?  Yes, You Can!"  I didn't click on it, because, well, I did read that title, but do you think that was for real?  Do people- other than florists and Martha Stewart- make centerpieces?

I really am curious, because the closest thing we get to a centerpiece is a bunch of miniature gourds my grandparents grew and sent home with me months ago, which are now covered in globs of paint courtesy of four out of five Crislers.  (Yes, I painted gourds, too.  I have to keep my inner 4-Her satisfied somehow.)  And they don't scream "centerpiece" so much as "way station before their eventual destination:  the garbage."

An added benefit to this style of "centerpiece" is that now I have a kitchen that is 25% more colorful than it was this time yesterday, because there is almost as much paint on the floor as there is on the gourds.  Not to worry; it scrubs off easily, which is why all art projects are undertaken on the kitchen floor rather than at a table like fancy folk.  

The best part is that none of this would have happened if we didn't have an Atticus who requests special art projects on a near- weekly basis, and who also insisted the finished product be put in "I don't know, like a bowl, or one of those jars that we keep the Band-aids in?  And can you put them on the table so we can look at them every night at supper?"  

Do you think Martha has an internship?  One specifically for seven-year-old boys?  Because I can only come up with so many craft ideas, and I'm running out of gourds...

Under-Achieving Moms Anonymous

Do you know what I spent my Saturday doing?  Paying for a mistake I made three years ago.


August of 2011, and Adelaide is getting ready to enter Kindergarten.  She is anxious, positive that she will have no friends and get lost and be bored and not entirely sure why I'm abandoning her to the cruel whims of the United States public education system.

Included on the exhaustive supply list was a required 12x12-inch pillow.  They use this for the post-lunch rest time, which five- and six-year olds need so they can get ready for some afternoon learnin' and I can only assume the teachers need because they spend their days in a cramped room with 25 small children, in return for which they receive a pittance of a salary and, ahem, "feedback" from parents even more irrational than their "genius" offspring.  ("Genius":  the second most overused word in the English language, right after "surreal.")

Because Adelaide was having such a hard time with the idea of going to school and being away from me, I wanted her to have something at school that would be familiar and comforting, and so, rather than a generic pillow, I cut up one of my old shirts in her then-favorite color- pink- and made it into a pillowcase,  embroidering her name and some multi-colored flowers on the front, because I am an idiot.

I knew better.  Or I should have.  I do not scrapbook.  I do not throw lavish birthday parties.  I do not celebrate arbitrary holidays created by vast corporations with a product to push.  I set the bar as low as possible the first time around, because I know that each time I do something and label it a tradition, as far as our children are concerned, I am signing a blood contract to forevermore execute said tradition in at least as exciting a way as I did the first time.

I understand the impulse to over-celebrate the crap out of every tiny milestone that comes your child's way, and I am not saying you shouldn't make your child feel cherished and loved to absolute pieces on a daily basis.  What I am saying is that every time you're in the store and you see that simply darling last-day-of-summer-vacation pinata or you're on Pinterest and All The Moms are making four-course breakfasts for their child's first day of school, the question you need to ask yourself is this one:  How much do I hate myself?

When you're doing that extra-special kid-centered thing you've gotta realize that you should be taking the time, money, and energy spent on it times the number of years they're going to live in your house times however many children you have, because even as I was hunched over Atticus's Kindergarten pillow embroidering his name into a scrap of some old corduroy pants of mine, Caedmon was mouth-breathing in my face, "When am I going to get a special pillow with my name and a picture on it?  Can you make it out of this?"  He was touching and asking for the actual shirt off my back, and three years too late, I realized this is the price you pay for over-achieving even once.

I finished our second-born's pillow, then made a gourmet lunch of popcorn, raisins, and granola bars, which I wouldn't even allow them to eat in the house because I was just done.  That pillow used up, like, a three-day supply of motherly patience and creativity.

The one upside to my anti-Martha Stewart parenting practices is that our children are in awe when I make the slightest effort.  I made them each a little book to write in out of squares of white paper I cut up and stapled together.  You'd think I'd felled the trees to create the paper, mined the iron ore from the ground for the staples.  Their mouths were literally hanging open at this wizardry.  So if one of our children shows you one of their "books" they've written, do me a favor and act astounded at this creation.  Maybe throw around terms like "Best Mom Ever" and "Luckiest Child Alive."  Also don't show them all the incredible things you do for your own children.  It takes a village to keep expectations this low.

I'm Gonna Whimsy You To Death

My home will never grace the pages of a decorator magazine for many reasons, chief amongst them a lack of budget, awareness of trends, the fact that we have small children and therefore can't have not just nice things, but apparently things in general.  (Side note:  Why are children so destructive?  Why do I have to keep saying, "DO NOT hang on the cabinet doors.  DO NOT climb up the fridge.  DO NOT dig that metal spoon into the table."  Why?)

More than anything keeping us from magazine covers, though, is a little word called 'whimsy.'  Now, even magazine editors seems to appreciate some whimsy, but "some" seems to be the operative word there.  They like to sprinkle a little here and there, whereas I would like to unscrew the lid and dump the entire whimsical contents all over our house.

Alas, Derek cannot see the merits of living in the housing equivalent of Wonderland, so instead I get a Pinterest board labeled "Home Decorating," and every once in a while I look through it and imagine what would happen if I were ever to magically install every single one of those things in our home while Derek was at work one day.  Oh, the look my imagination puts on his face when he walks through the door.  Priceless.


First off, you'd have this mat welcoming you into our home:

via wanelo.com

As soon as you walk in the door, you see our stairs, which would look like this (assuming I could ever bring myself to paint them, which I probably could not):

via themetapicture.com

This would be on the wall (although where, I have no idea, as I'm pretty sure our house doesn't have a stretch of wall big enough for this anywhere- DETAILS):

via dwell.com

At least one room would have a wall featuring this wallpaper (it's COLORING WALLPAPER, YOU GUYS- wallpaper you can color.  Imagine how much we'll save on therapy.  I mean, coloring is soothing, right?):

via theberry.com

We would have this refrigerator (because TARDIS FRIDGE):

via

We would have a laundry chute- but not just any laundry chute, a porthole laundry chute:

via alleewillis.com

Our kitchen ceiling would look like this:

via notjustahousewife.net

These pillows would grace our couch (and before you look, just know that I am perfectly aware that this is where I will lose most of you- I can't help it.  Those cats make me laugh every time I look at them, and isn't that one of things you want from your home?):

via hautelook.hardpin.com

via hautelook.hardpin.com

via kohls.com

And these pillows would go on our rockers on the front porch:

via 

Oh, and this birdcage would have to be a light fixture somewhere in our house.  Actually, it would have to be the front room, as that's the only room that has ceilings tall enough to accomodate a birdcage light fixture:

via designsponge.com

Isn't it all so beautiful?  I lost you at the Kitty Hepburn pillow, didn't I?  What elements of whimsy would you add to your home?

4-H Crafts for Grown Ups

See this?

Right away, let me assure you I did not come up with this idea.  I first saw this monster Valentine box idea on Pinterest a long time ago, and it has since mated and reproduced and made many, many monster babies.  Also?  I did not think that analogy through.

Backing off of the reproductive practices of monster boxes and onto the advent of Valentine boxes:  If you have school-age children, you know that it is not longer enough to send your child to school with a plain old Valentine.  They must now have a small treat with their standard Valentine (something that was only reserved for the over-achievers when I was young), half of their classmates' Valentines won't even be those cheap, perforated, store-bought numbers; they will be beautifully crafted, hand-made creations you'll feel guilty about throwing away (oh, but you'll still do it), and you will be expected to create some kind of receptacle for all those gorgeous Valentines and treats and other guilt-inspiring doodads ("guilt" because I don't generally do those things).

Enter the Valentine box.

Somehow, when you see those amazing Valentine boxes on Pinterest, you believe that it's just that: something that that one mom on Pinterest does, while the rest of us are content to wrap old Kleenex boxes in butcher paper and hand our kid a crayon to decorate it (this was my actual plan, FYI).  Then you walk into your kid's preschool and see glittering castle Valentine boxes and Lego Valentine boxes and boxes that are covered in real chicken feathers (don't even ask).  At this point you realize that your slacker parenting methods aren't going to work this time.

I know how this all works, okay?  I was in 4-H.  I competed in the fair every summer and won my share of ribbons.  (And not those lame reds or, God forbid, white ribbons, just so we're clear)  I can lose sleep and cry real tears over meaningless crafts with the best of them, making these Valentine boxes right up my alley.

Still, it's been a long time since I was in 4-H, and there are no ribbons on the line here (soccer moms prefer to deal in guilt and shame), so I find myself veering toward the ideas on Pinterest with key words like "Under 10 Minutes!" and "So easy I was able to do it in the middle of the daily ten-mile run!"  Unfortunately, Pinterest moms are dirty, dirty liars, as this box took me approximately one and a half episodes of Doctor Who to complete (although, to be fair, one of the episodes was Angels Take Manhattan which I absolutely recommend if you want to have a panic attack every time you see a statue for the rest of your natural life- it may or may not have slowed me down a teensy bit), and involved around half a roll of tape.

It also seemed really plain when I was done, so I twisted up and added some random sparkly pipe cleaners to the top.  I thought this jazzed it up nicely enough, until our children woke up and saw it this morning.

Adelaide's verdict was "It's funny," but Atticus looked at it, smiled, then turned to me and asked, "Why did you make my Valentine box look like Ms. Hollie?"

Ms. Hollie is one of Atticus's preschool teachers.  She is not red.  She does not have the shape of a Kleenex box.  She does not have blue eyes, nor does she have three eyes, nor does she have lazy or wandering eyes.  She does not have a gaping maw of nightmare teeth.  So I asked, "What do you mean, Bud?"

"It looks like Ms. Hollie.  You know," he gestured to the top of his head, "crazy hair."

Ah.  Ms. Hollie does have a head full of curly, corkscrewy hair.

This all gave me an idea for a terrific new reality show:  The 4-H'ers of [Washington, Cowley, Story, whatever] County, where you follow young 4-H kids as they get ready for the fair.  The tears!  The drama!  The animal excrement!  The sewing machine-induced injuries!  And- plot twist!- all the 4-H judges are preschoolers.

Makes about as much sense as anything that's on tv now.

Bless Me, Pinterest, For I Have Sinned

• I've never made anything using a Mason Jar.  Unless you count salsa, which I'm pretty sure you don't, because it doesn't involve a lightbulb.

• I haven't made any of the Dairy-, Gluten-, Soy-, Fat-, Calorie-, Taste-Free brownies you champion.  Because ick.  

• I likewise haven't made any of your desserts that somehow cram ice cream sandwiches, whipped cream, candy bars, cake, cookies, and frosting all in one pan.  Because ick.

• My pantry doesn't look like a showroom at the Container Store.  It looks like the place where I cram as much food as possible after grocery trips.  Weird.

• I've never Photoshopped pictures of my kids until they look less like human beings and more like Japanese cartoon characters.  I don't even have Photoshop, Pinterest.

• I don't like quotes from movie stars.  They're not deep wells of wisdom, they're actors, for crying out loud.

• I've never cared for Marilyn Monroe.  I'll never understand your obsession, Pinterest, with a woman most famous for being an actress, having an affair with the President, suicide, and being posthumously diagnosed with bipolar and borderline personality disorder.  

• There is no silverware in my house that has been repurposed into photo holders, coat hooks, jewelry, key chains, a chandelier, wind chimes, or yard art.

• I don't paint my nails, let alone have time to give myself a full-on manicure every other day.  What's the point?  My hands spend half their day in water: doing dishes, cooking, cleaning up after my children have had their latest brilliant idea, bathing children after same...

• I don't wear those outfits that are so coordinated, they include a Starbucks cup.  1) I have no interest in spending half our family's monthly budget on one outfit, and 2) you're lucky if my clothes are clean on any given day, never mind being matchy- matchy and artfully carefree.

• I don't know how to knit.

• I've never made a diaper cake, diaper train, or used diapers for anything other than their original intention: catching babies' waste.  In fact, I'm a little leery of baby showers in general.

I accept my penance:  Coating anything and everything in my house with chalkboard paint and then taking pictures at every possible angle. 

But I probably won't do that, either. 

Pinterest Favorites and Foibles

Men (if there are, in fact, any men that read this blog), don't bother with this one.  I can almost promise you'll be bored to tears.

Ladies, what's the deal with men?  Specifically, men not liking Pinterest?  It's a mystery to me.  But then, I'm not a man.

Anyway.

One of the keys to Pinterest is that you actually have to do some of things that you pin- otherwise it's just a useless time-suck.

And so, here are some of the recipes and crafts from Pinterest that we've tried.  Hopefully you'll either see something we liked and be inspired to try it, or conversely, see some of the things that looked like a good idea but that we found didn't turn out so hot.

Salted Caramel Almond Pretzel Popcorn

Original Recipe

Mmmm, this stuff was good.  I loved it, and Adelaide loved it, but the boys weren't too impressed.  You can see in the photo that the caramel is really too light, and mine turned out the same way.  I think there must be some sort of flaw in her recipe, because she admitted to the same thing when she made it.  Still, I loved the combination of salty and sweet, and if you have a tried-and-true caramel recipe, I would recommend substituting that in there.

Slow Cooker Coke Chicken

Original Recipe 

This chicken is billed as being easy, tender, and flavorful.  I'll agree with the easy and tender, but we found it didn't have a whole lot of flavor at all.  Not bad, but not something we'll be making again.

Better Baked Potatoes

(Couldn't find original website, so can't credit)

For these "better" baked potatoes, you're supposed to slice almost all the way through, then stuff with things like butter, onion slices, garlic, spices, then drizzle with olive oil, sprinkle with salt, and bake.  I was expecting great things of these potatoes- and they were a dismal failure.  Tasted like an almost-plain baked potato.  Definitely a fail.

Toddler Muffins

Original Recipe

Derek was convinced these were going to be nasty- I think he was scared of all the bananas, carrots, squash, and oatmeal I was tossing into the mixer.  They actually ended up being really good, lightly sweet with plenty of fruits and veggies, and the kids absolutely love them.  They're mini muffins, so I've taken to throwing a bunch in a bag if we're going somewhere and I think the kids will need a snack.  The only variation I made was using quick-cooking oats rather than the oat bran it calls for. 

Yogurt Drops

Original Recipe

These are really easy- you put some yogurt in a sandwich bag, snip off a corner, and squeeze small drops onto a cookie sheet, then stick it in a freezer until the yogurt drops are frozen.  The kids really liked these, but I didn't really see the point.  I thought they tasted like... well, really cold yogurt.  I think I would appreciate these more if I still had to spoon-feed any of our kids; these are probably the kind of food that would be good for toddlers new to the feeding-themselves game.

Fried Apple Pancake Rings

Original Recipe

These sounded so promising: apple rings, dipped in pancake batter, cooked on the griddle, then sprinkled with cinnamon-sugar.  I'm not sure if I just did it wrong or what, but these were kind of a pain to make.  It was difficult to get the pancake batter to evenly coat and stay on the rings throughout the process, and while they tasted okay, didn't really seem worth the effort.

Cake Batter Popcorn

Original Recipe

I gotta say, this stuff was way too sweet for me- and I have a sweet tooth the size of Texas.  This was almost sickly sweet.  Nobody really liked it but Adelaide, and even she could only eat tiny amounts at a time.  Never ever making again.

Tote Bag

Original Tutorial

I just made this bag yesterday, and I really have to recommend that you make one for yourself right this second.  I had to wait awhile to make this; it calls for decorator-weight fabric, and I didn't have any on hand.  I finally found the blue exterior fabric in the clearance bin at Jo-Ann's (it was originally $20/yard- who pays that much for fabric?).  It was so easy to put together, and the tutorial gives you the dimensions for two different size options; I went with the larger one because I wanted to be able to use it as a library bag, and we tend to check out lots of books at each visit.  I can't wait to make the smaller one with some different fabric.

Orange-Infused Vinegar Cleaning Solution

Original Tutorial

I make our all-purpose cleaner with a mixture of white vinegar, water, and just a tiny bit of dish soap.  It works great, but somebody (Derek) has complained about the smell after I've cleaned a large area with it.  Something about vinegar or pickles or something.  I wouldn't know, I have a terrible sense of smell, and can barely catch a whiff of the stuff.  I thought I had found a solution when I stumbled across this pin, where you essentially stuff orange peels in a jar with vinegar, let it sit for a couple weeks, then make your cleaner as usual.  The cleaner should then have a fresh, citrus-ey scent, rather than the stringent vinegar smell.  I asked Derek what he thought when I was using it (because I sure couldn't tell), and he said it smelled like vinegar with a little orange scent thrown in.  Fail.

Sheet Music Wall Art

Original Tutorial

The tutorial for this project comes from one of my favorite crafty/design blogs, Jones Design Company.  I love her taste, and have used a lot of the tutorials she's created to make all kinds of things.  This was the most recent, made with an old hymnal I picked up at a garage sale for $0.50, a canvas on sale from Hobby Lobby, and Mod Podge.  I actually made it at a Pinterest night (a friend of mine hosts these montly, where a bunch of women get together and make crafts they've pinned from Pinterest), and there were several women there who had NEVER USED MOD PODGE.  I have no idea what their childhoods were like, because mine was full of the stuff.  I do plan on framing this and hanging it over the piano rather than just leaving it propped on top, just as soon as I find a super cheap/ not ugly frame for it.

What has everyone else been making?  I'd love to know!

Let's Hope This Works

The kids and I have enjoyed exactly three days of summer vacation so far.  They've been good days, mostly spent outside, but I can already tell I'm going to need to impose a little structure on the chilluns, lest we all morph into lazy bums by August.  Really tan lazy bums.

I've got a few ideas, but sometimes I'm not exactly the best at follow-through, so I'm going to share a couple of them here in the hopes that either:  A) You all will help keep me accountable or B) I'll be spurred on by the simple shame of having told everyone I was going to do awesome stuff with my kids and then not actually doing it.  Whatever works.

I recently read a fantastic book (which I will be posting a review of on the Books page here in the next couple days) about a mother of five who decided that she was tired of catering to her spoiled children and spent a full year teaching them to work: cleaning the house, cooking family meals, running household errands, etc.  My first response was a little, ahem, extreme, but after all the ideas I'd gleaned from the book had been marinating in the cerebrospinal fluid around my brain (okay, sorry, that was kind of gross) for awhile, I started getting some pretty good ideas for our kids for this summer.  The first one I'm going to try implementing is going to involve the Fruits of the Spirit, as defined in Galatians 5:22-23:  "But the fruit of the spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self control.  Against such things there is no law."

You see, lately I've been noticing a small change in Adelaide.  More scowling, speaking to her brothers, Derek, and I in disrespectful tones, ingratitude.  She hasn't been doing any of these things a whole lot, and it tends to be when she's already tired or cranky, but it's been enough to make me sit up and notice.  Of course we've been talking to her about it, disciplining when necessary, but I'm kind of tired of feeling like we're the ones on defense, and this definitely feels like behavior I want to nip in the bud.  Adelaide has always been our easy child; obviously not perfect, but generally obedient and good-natured.

Enter my little plan.  In the book, the mother adds a new cleaning task or way to serve the family each month; this summer, the kids and I will be discussing a different "fruit" each week.  We'll start Monday, and this first week we'll be discussing Love.  We'll talk about what love is, how we can show it to others- both within our household and without- etc.  I have a fun little fruit-themed craft planned that we will add to each week as we add on different fruits.

 I keep reading about how the best way to keep weeds out of your lawn is to have thick, healthy grass growing.  I'm hoping that by really focusing on these fruits with Adelaide and her brothers, we'll plant enough good, healthy beliefs and behavior to help weed out some of those less desirable attitudes that have been cropping up.  I do plan on doing a little update post at the end of each week so you can see how it's going, and also to keep the accountability/shame part of it in effect.

That's my biggest plan so far.  We have a book of science experiments for kids (thanks, Stacie and Grant!) that I'd like to work through this summer, and I'm going to try and be purposeful about assigning Adelaide some simple math problems each week.  Oh, and books.  Lots and lots of books.  And probably some story-writing.  And I'm already starting to feel overwhelmed.




Now, for those of you who have stuck with me clear to end of this long post, here is your reward:

Last night, as I was trying to stuff Caedmon into his pajamas that may be just a teensy bit too small, Atticus was talking about the relative merits of certain parts of his anatomy- this fascination appears to start young in the male of our species.  At one point, he paused, looking quizzically at one of his toys, and asked me, "Mom, why does Linda have a pee-pee on her head?"

Then I almost died.

Because Linda is a unicorn.

Proof That I Actually Do Get Things Done Every Once In A While

Like just about everybody else, I love Pinterest.

Well, like just about every other woman.  Pinterest doesn't really seem to be much of a draw for males.  I was all excited about it when I first got on there a few months ago, and so of course wanted to share it with Derek.  I tried to describe it to him, but he was thoroughly underwhelmed.  "Just look," I insisted.  "It's so cool.  You'll love it."

So I showed it to him, and took him on a little tour of the site.  He was, once again, thoroughly underwhelmed.

Anyway, one of my favorite things to check out are the many, many DIY and craft inspirations that can be found on there.  The problem is you end up pinning project after project after project, then end up not actually doing anything.

My solution was to ban myself from logging on for two months.  I told myself I could end my self-imposed exile after I had completed 5 projects.  I love seeing other people's final Pinterest-inspired products, and I've been meaning to post my own for awhile, but I didn't before because 1) Most of them were gifts, and I decided it might be a good idea to actually give them to their recipients before I put them up here, and 2) I forgot.

And so, without further ado (oh, except to say that I've provided a link underneath each photo to take you back to the original site from which I received inspiration- have to give credit where credit's due, and this way I don't actually have to give instructions on how to do any of these):

Steph's Yarn Wreath

Kelli's Yarn Wreath

Mom's Yarn Wreath

Steph's Pillow

My pillow

That's right, I kept one for myself- and let me tell you what, Derek loves seeing this uber-masculine accessory on our bed every day.

I keep telling myself that someday I won't have three small children that like to destroy and scatter any and all craft supplies they come across, and I'll be able to complete more than five crafts every six months.

Someday.

Can You Guess?

Guess what this is.

Hint:  It's not a huge wad of bubble gum. 

It's also not a brain, liver, or any other organ.  (Including a Wurlitzer.)

Actually, it's...

...Homemade Play-Dough!


Adelaide came home from school about a week ago with a note- including the recipe- asking each family to whip up a batch for the kids to use throughout the year at school.  I finally made it this evening, and I'm now wondering why anyone spends any money on the stuff at the store.  It took me ten minutes tops to make, the recipe calls for ingredients most people usually keep in their pantry, and one batch made about twice the amount that usually comes in one container of the brand-name product. 

I gotta say, though:  Although Adelaide specifically requested pink play-dough, I think the batch I'm going to make for home use tomorrow will have to be a different color.  Something not quite so... fleshy.

Play-Dough

1 cup flour

1 Tablespoon cooking oil

1 cup water

1/2 cup salt

2 teaspoons cream of tartar

food coloring (optional)

Combine all of the ingredients in a saucepan.  Cook over medium heat, stirring constantly until the mixture forms a ball.  Knead until smooth.  Let the dough cool completely before placing in a sealed container. 

The Fair

Adelaide successfully began Kindergarten last week.  She got off the bus that first day sweaty and tired, but finally perked up enough to tell us about her day and let us know that she had fun and liked her new school.  She quickly learned that Kindergarten is very different from preschool, however. 

Soon after we all got home, Derek asked Adelaide if she had made any new friends at school.  She replied, "Daddy, Kindergarten isn't like preschool.  You work all day long at Kindergarten."  Apparently Adelaide + Work = No Friends.  At least for now. 

After her first two full days of school, we decided to reward her with a trip to...  The Iowa State Fair!

I've made it pretty clear that I am not originally from Iowa.  I grew up almost seven hours south of here, in Kansas.  Where I'm from, the county fairs are terrific.  There's lots of people involved, lots to see and do, and because you're in an area of the country that doesn't see a whole lot of excitement, a county fair is a Big Deal. 

The Kansas State Fair, while also pretty neat, is really just like a Kansas county fair on steroids: bigger, but with a higher voice and an irrational temper.  (I may or may not have just taken the steroid analogy a bit far.  But believe me:  I could have gone farther.)  For the most part, larger amounts of the same stuff that you find on a county level.

Here in Iowa, the county fairs are pretty pathetic.  Not the least bit impressive.

The Iowa State Fair, on the other hand, is pretty dang awesome. 

First of all, it's humongously gigantic.  Or maybe gigantically humongous.  Either way, it's big.

It also has crazy stuff like this:

Behold, the Butter Cow.  That's 600 pounds of pure cream Iowa butter.

Also, the Butter Cow's friend, Butter Farmer, doing something to a Butter Calf and her Butter Mama.

This year marked the 100th anniversary of the Butter Cow at The Fair.  That's 100 Butter Cows.  Moo.


There are fair- and farm- themed ice sculptures:

That's a cow, a pig, a 1st Place ribbon, and... maybe a motorcycle.  Because nothing says fairs and farms like an ice Harley.

There was also a big 4-H building, full of awesome 4-H projects: food, clothing, stitching, wood-working, antique restoration; you name it, it was there.

This was one of my favorites.

Some crafty little 4-Her took one of those toy horses- the kind are attached to a metal frame with four big springs, and kids can sit and bounce around on- detached it from the frame, recovered it with fabric and paint (and probably half a gallon of Mod Podge), attached a pole, and made it into a darling carousel horse.  I love this.

I also lingered for quite a while around the 4-H cakes.  Because, you know, cake.

Those are frosting roses.  It was beautiful and absolutely deserving of that blue ribbon.

And something about this coconut cake just spoke to me.

Maybe it's because Derek doesn't like coconut and so I haven't made anything with it in the last... oh, seven years or so.  I miss coconut.

When we weren't looking at all the cool stuff, we were eating... and eating, and eating. 

We ate so much that I think all that delicious fair food deserves it's own post.

Tomorrow.