tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34572325195146145532024-03-13T23:28:53.506-05:00Joy-Filled ChaosLife with three sons can get chaotic. In that chaos, I often find moments of such pure joy. In those moments of pure joy, I get why God gave me three sons. And a husband. HE gave me what I never, ever, knew I'd want.Leanne K.http://www.blogger.com/profile/11449651517009611073noreply@blogger.comBlogger33125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3457232519514614553.post-32944363381529975412014-09-18T20:25:00.002-05:002014-09-18T20:32:56.770-05:00If You Give a Mom a Load of LaundryHow many times
do mothers try to multi-multi-multi-task while doing a mundane chore?
Half the battle is just remembering everything that needs to get done
in one day, and then trying to figure out an order to do it in, without forgetting
anything, only to find out despite your best efforts, you still forgot
something. This is pretty much my life every day. My brain is always spinning like my thoughts below. Sometimes I have a hard time getting to sleep at night because it just. won't. shut. up.<br />
<br />
So, in honor of all mothers out there like me, here's a snippet of what my bossy brain told me to do, all in the time it took to fold a pile of laundry. In my head, it played like a
version of "If You Give a Mouse a Cookie." <br />
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<br />
I've titled it, "If You Give a Mom a Load of Laundry"<br />
<br />
If you give a mom a load of towels to fold on a Thursday night,<br />
She'll think about the company coming for dinner on Sunday while she's folding them,<br />
Which will remind her of the two roasts she has to pull from the freezer<br />
Because they need time to thaw in the refrigerator,<br />
Which will remind her she didn't make the meal she already had thawing in the fridge for dinner that night, <br />
Because she got sidetracked by the applesauce she made that afternoon,<br />
Which she was still canning when her husband came home for supper,<br />
Because she had to put the applesauce on hold while she spent three
hours carpooling kids from school and helping with homework,<br />
Which will remind her she needs to sign reading charts for two of her kids and a conference slip for the other,<br />
Because they all need to turn them in the next day to their teachers,<br />
Which will remind her she still needs to email another teacher tonight about a freezer meal she made for a family in need,<br />
Because that teacher was going to possibly deliver it tomorrow night to that family,<br />
Which will remind her she needs to call her husband's side of the family,<br />
Because she's still trying to figure out what to plan for her youngest child's birthday in a few weeks,<br />
Which will remind her she still needs to put said child to bed,<br />
Because it's waaaay past his bed time and he has school tomorrow,<br />
Which will remind her that she forgot to bring up his school uniform
for the next day, along with the towels she just folded, from the
laundry room in the basement.</div>
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The end. </div>
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This is the convoluted
way my frazzled Mom Brain works. Oh, and yes, this was exactly my day.
Well rather, just my afternoon and evening. This morning, my brain got a
break while I went to MOPS.</div>
Leanne K.http://www.blogger.com/profile/11449651517009611073noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3457232519514614553.post-40468452047380073922014-08-28T11:45:00.002-05:002014-08-28T11:45:48.525-05:00Back to school doesn't always mean back to school<span class="userContent" data-ft="{"tn":"K"}">It's only the second week of school.<br /> <br />
Monday, my third-grader had a panic attack and stayed home from school. And I
was sick. </span><br />
<br />
<span class="userContent" data-ft="{"tn":"K"}">Tuesday, my first- and third-graders didn't have school because it was
parent-led conferences day. And I was sick. </span><br />
<br />
<span class="userContent" data-ft="{"tn":"K"}">Wednesday I had appointments
and commitments from 9 a.m. to 6:30 p.m., which I kept. And I was sick. </span><br />
<br />
<span class="userContent" data-ft="{"tn":"K"}">Today, I
woke up still sick and thought I'd get to sleep and get<span class="text_exposed_show">
better because all three kids were supposed to be in school. While I'm
dropping my elementary kids off at their school at 8:30, I get an automated
call from my oldest child's middle school. There was a power outage at the school
and all classes were canceled for the day. Kids will be released at
9 a.m. I head over to his school to find all access points backed up with traffic and police cars blocking the bus lanes
with lights flashing. When I finally find a parking spot, I am as far
away from where I'm supposed to get my child as I can be. So I walk to an
open door and ask if I can walk through the school to get to the
cafeteria (because did I forget to mention it's raining out?). The
teachers tell me the entire school is pitch black (gotta love 1960s
construction that decided windows were a bad thing), but one of the
teachers said she'd walk me through with the flashlight on her cell
phone. So we trek through pitch black hallways, go up and down stairs,
hit one hallway with flashing strobe lights (did I mention I woke up
with a killer headache on top of my cold?), and finally get to the
cafeteria. Where all pandemonium had broken loose earlier because a bat
got into the school through the kitchen vents, and found its way into
the cafeteria, where it terrorized the children, who in turn screamed
bloody murder and terrorized the poor bat. I couldn't find my child in
all the chaos but found a teacher standing in the middle of the
lunchroom calling out names on a bullhorn. She bellows out his name, he
pops up from his seat, we get through the line to sign him out, and the
same teacher who walked me in says she'll walk us through the school
again to get back out. As we walk back through the strobe lights, the
flights of stairs and the pitch black corridors, my sixth-grader is regaling us with the story of his morning adventure, totally
jazzed about the best day of school absolutely ever. I wonder what
tomorrow will be like?</span></span>Leanne K.http://www.blogger.com/profile/11449651517009611073noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3457232519514614553.post-10433963772081197242014-08-27T22:10:00.000-05:002014-09-16T14:07:54.670-05:00Technology versus humanity<br />
Technology.<br />
<br />
That one word strikes fear and worry into this parent's heart. I'm not against it. I like technology. It's a great tool. I like typing instead of writing long-hand, I like using Facebook to have conversations with far-away friends I wouldn't otherwise be able to re-connect with, I like the immediate satisfaction of taking pictures on my digital camera and editing photos in Photoshop. I like writing this blog and I like sending my husband emails at work that I know he can read when he has a break, instead of interrupting his work flow with a phone call. I like having a cell phone on car trips in case of emergency. Technology is a tool that can make life easier and more enjoyable. But like all tools, it needs to be used the right way for maximum benefit. Abusing a tool often leads to a break-down in functionality of that tool. What happens when technology is abused on a societal scale? What happens to that society?<br />
<br />
I see what the abuse of technology is doing to the world around me and it's terrifying. I don't understand why there isn't a huge outcry about it, why more people aren't recognizing the dangers or why more parents aren't pro-active in preventing their kids from abusing technology. I don't understand why schools think it's ok to assume kids are so used to using it that they no longer need to be taught how to.<br />
<br />
I'm not talking about the obvious dangers lurking on the internet. I think pretty much everyone is aware of those by now. I'm talking about the more subtle dangers that creep up on a society as a whole and nobody notices until it's too late to do anything about the shift that's already happened. What kind of dangers? Let me paint a few pictures.<br />
<br />
Picture 1: Two young adults dining together at a restaurant. "Together" may be too strong a word. They are occupying space at the same table by sitting facing each other, but that's it. Both of their heads are down, concentrations firmly fixed on phones in their hands. Their fingers fly over miniscule keyboards as they text. When the waitress stops to take their order, they briefly look up, give their order and then promptly go back to their phones. They never once look at each other. The waitress places their food in front of them and they do not look up to thank her for her service, nor do they put down their phones to eat. Absentmindedly, they spend the entire meal feeding themselves with one hand and texting with the other. Not once do they look up from their phone to have a conversation with each other. The bill is paid in the same manner and they leave the restaurant, texting while walking out the door.<br />
<br />
Picture 2: Imagine this same scenario, but this time it's a family at the restaurant: a mom, a dad, two grandparents and three kids. The parents and grandparents spend the meal talking and laughing with each other. Knowing each other. Finding joy in the presence of loved ones, in the present. Not once do the kids look up from their phones, tablets or hand-held video games to interact with each other or their parents or grandparents. They spend the entire meal plugged into their devices and eating with one hand. They missed the entire experience. They missed out on practicing the art of conversation, on a chance to know their parents and grandparents a little better and a chance for the parents and grandparents to know their children. <br />
<br />
Picture 3: A multi-generational family is gathered to celebrate a holiday or birthday. Grandparents, uncles, aunts, parents, siblings and cousins gather together to connect and celebrate. Half of the adults under the age of 40 are looking at a phone or tablet to text, tweet, Facebook or surf the web. They aren't participating in the <i>present</i>, in what's going on around them. Relatives try to talk to them and they can't be bothered to look up long enough for a reply. They certainly don't make an effort to instigate a conversation with anyone. It's much easier to log out of the physical realm and log into the digital one at their fingertips, so that's what they do. In a room full of young adults, there is only silence.<br />
<br />
Picture 4: Imagine yourself in your vehicle, on the highway coming home from a long road trip. The children are asleep in their seats and you are anxious to be home. Traffic is heavy; you are crowded on all sides. Then you see a car coming off the ramp, trying to merge into the lane next to you. One glance and you realize the driver is not paying attention. His gaze is focused on the phone in his hand. You think to yourself, "Surely he's going to look up before he actually merges." Another glance to the side and you realize not only did he NOT look up, but he didn't stop his side-ward steering after he cleared his lane. He is headed straight toward you, and he still isn't looking up. You honk your horn and swerve, and he still doesn't look up. He doesn't look up from his phone until you are on the side of the highway, one wheel in the ditch, constantly honking your horn and he is in your lane. Then he glances up, swerves back into his lane and continues on. He missed you by mere inches and only because you were alert enough, <i>present enough</i>, to avert disaster. You say a prayer of thanks that you didn't hit anything or anyone in trying to avoid him. You give thanks your entire family wasn't just killed by a cell phone and a partially-functioning human. You get back on the road and continue on. Only minutes later, you pass slow moving traffic on your right. As you pass the car holding up the lane, you glance over and see the driver is the same guy who ran you off the road. He's looking at his cell phone.<br />
<br />
All four of these are entirely true. I witnessed the first two while dining at the same restaurant as the subjects. The third is a very real snapshot of what functions have begun to look like over the last five years in my extended family. Awkward silence now reigns where once the sounds of everyone playing board games or cards together used to be heard. The last story happened to me and my husband and children as we were returning home from a weekend away. We almost died that day. <br />
<br />
Does anyone else see the danger in these scenarios? In each case, people were so plugged into their digital devices they were
completely oblivious to the <i>present</i>. There was a total disconnect between what their brains were doing and
what their bodies were doing. Their consciousness was in "the cloud,"
but their physical bodies were still here on Earth and neither half was communicating with the other. In other words, a partially-functioning human. <br />
<br />
The danger in the last example is obvious, right? When driving a vehicle, the danger of an intentional disconnect between mental awareness and physical awareness is blatantly obvious. It's such an obviously stupid thing to do, I honestly can't figure out how any human can justify doing it. Yet it happens on a daily basis, every minute of every day all across our nation's highways and byways. Are we all really THAT STUPID?!?<br />
<br />
But in the first three, do you see it? Really <i>see </i>it? Have you watched Disney's WALL-E? The movie's main theme was obviously about taking care of our planet Earth, because it's the only one we have. Take a closer look, though, at some of the subtexts running through it. When that movie was first released, I remember hearing people scoff at the idea that society would degenerate to the point where people would speak to each other through screens if they were sitting right next to one another. It seemed so silly. Why would you need to look at a screen and speak to someone if you could just turn your head and have a conversation face-to-face? The ridiculousness of the very idea added levity to a children's movie that otherwise could have been categorized as satire. People laughed and thought it was funny because it was so terribly unlikely.<br />
<br />
Does our society even realize we've already gone several steps beyond that ridiculousness? Not only do people not even speak to each other face-to-face anymore, they don't even speak. Texting very often replaces verbal communication with a form of written communication that has been condensed into words that aren't even words: LOL, IKR, TTYL, PM me.<br />
<br />
How far will it go? Are we seeing the creation of a modern version of ancient Egyptian hieroglyphs (think of the emoticons added to many texts) or something even worse? The phonographic interpretation of hieroglyphic writing does not normally indicate vowels and has been labeled by some scholars to be an<i> abjad </i>alphabet - an alphabet without vowels. In our modern world, our kids aren't just ignoring the vowels, they are getting rid of the words entirely and only keeping the first letter of each word. They've gone past our own language that has it's fair share of acronyms and seem to be developing a whole new language based on initialisms, which can't even be pronounced as words but are spoken as a string of letters. I've heard stories from teachers about their dismay when students submit
reports typed like a text and they can't decode it. When they give it
back to the students to be redone, the students don't even see the
problem. Whereas hieroglyphic writing was a standardized method of communication and considered an advance in ancient Egyptian society, I have a hard time believing an initialized language is. There are no rules or standards for using it. There is no key for decoding it. <br />
<br />
That's just one concern about the deterioration of our written language caused by an abusive use of technology. What about our verbal communication skills?<br />
<br />
I know toddlers who can't even speak yet, but they know how to use an iPad or access games on a smart phone. Are we really going to let technology teach our children how to communicate? Will our children grow into teens who don't know how to speak to each other face-to-face? Will our texting teenagers grow into adults who can't spell complete words or form complete sentences and thereby lose their ability to communicate with anyone not of their generation? What happens to families, communities, the work force, politics, scientific progress, international relations, the human race, if that happens? Will our society go the way of the ancient Egyptians? Their hieroglyphs took thousands of years to be decoded again. For those thousands of years, all of their knowledge was lost in translation. Is that where we are headed?<br />
<br />
Part of our humanity is tied to our ability to effectively communicate
with each other, which in turn allows us to create functioning
communities that promote the survival of our species. We are the only
race on the planet that has a verbal, written and physical language that
is all tied together. What happens if technology replaces one or more
of those methods and then society starts to unravel?<br />
<br />
We are the adults, the parents, the teachers, the leaders, the ones who teach the next generation what it means to be human. Spend some time with your children having intentional conversations. Teach your children how to unplug and to sync their brains and bodies in the <i>present</i>. Teach them how important it is to <i>be </i>present, by being intentional in your presence<i> </i>with them. Some may think I'm surely exaggerating. I challenge those who think I'm just a naysayer to go watch WALL-E again, then go eat out at a restaurant, visit a playground or a shopping mall and just sit and observe. Get in your car and drive. At every stoplight, take a glance at all the other drivers around you and count how many are looking at some piece of hand-held technology. Go anywhere public, and you'll see the same scenario, no matter where you go. More people are plugged in to the electronic cloud than into the present. Technology can't replace human-to-human interaction on such a large scale without having consequences. WALL-E is more real than anyone ever thought it could be. I challenge everyone to be present in the present. Be a fully-functioning human. Your children will thank you later.<br />
<br />
<br />Leanne K.http://www.blogger.com/profile/11449651517009611073noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3457232519514614553.post-74895362341467383182014-03-19T21:24:00.002-05:002014-03-19T21:42:12.684-05:00Cart creates huge amount of LEGO storage in 2 feet of floor space.With three boys, I've been battling an ever-creeping LEGO problem for several years now. I've looked for storage solutions online, at LEGO shops, at home improvement stores and big-box retailers. This year, I realized it's not the loose bricks causing the problem. It's the finished creations.<br />
<br />
There are hundreds of ways to store loose bricks, from buckets, to open bins, to plastic totes, to tool boxes. But where do your children store those finished creations that took hours to build? Those creations become precious works of art. Once they fall apart or are destroyed (sometimes by a younger sibling), many can't be easily rebuilt because the pieces become impossible to find.<br />
<br />
In my house, there simply isn't enough display space to accommodate the imaginations of three boys. My first solution? Cookie sheets, sometimes called bun pans or jellyroll pans. They are light enough to carry, sturdy enough to build on, have four edges to contain the bricks and are large enough to hold all the pieces of a work-in-progress. They are the perfect portable building surface. They also easily slide under the bed for out-of-sight storage.<br />
<br />
The problem with my first solution? My boys got so many LEGOs for Christmas this year, I found myself without any free cookie sheets. Every single one of them held a LEGO work-in-progress. There were so many building projects, they no longer fit under the beds. I had cookie sheets AND loose LEGOs covering the floors, bookshelves, dresser tops and under-the-bed spaces. My boys' bedrooms became so clogged I couldn't
reach their beds to change the sheets.<br />
<br />
So I problem-solved my first solution, inspired by a Pinterest find. Megan, founder of OmahaHa!, had the same LEGO conundrum in her house, and found the same solution with the same cookie sheets. She also discovered the same frustration. Cookie sheets work to a certain extent, but still take up valuable surface real estate. She decided if you can't build out, build up, and turned a second-hand bun pan rack into a mobile LEGO storage cart. It's a truly inspired idea.<br />
(To see Megan's original post: http://www.omahaha.com/2012/10/16/lego-storage-solution/) <br />
<br />
I worked at a bakery during my college years, so I knew exactly what Megan was talking about. Bun pan racks come in half or full sizes and can be end-loading or side-loading. The full-size racks are a little over 5 feet tall and have around 20 rails, spaced a few inches apart, specifically designed to hold cookie sheets! They also have a relatively small footprint and wheels, which makes them ideal for small rooms.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgE4clprQnqPehLn8y9BGXS9176pMVuAReZCG_K_Xy8BMxU8k4gmPBXQlJ0ko7WWe71Wbskm4z9FRWE4dcFVhjy5HXoc1NvznNYiCpJj5pp62dA0I0WGLdjtTBZpJShzK6pPqkanX2t1g4/s1600/bun+pan+rack.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgE4clprQnqPehLn8y9BGXS9176pMVuAReZCG_K_Xy8BMxU8k4gmPBXQlJ0ko7WWe71Wbskm4z9FRWE4dcFVhjy5HXoc1NvznNYiCpJj5pp62dA0I0WGLdjtTBZpJShzK6pPqkanX2t1g4/s1600/bun+pan+rack.jpg" height="320" width="320" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>End-loading bun pan rack</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Dimensions: 20" x 26" x 69"</i></div>
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Unfortunately, a local search for a used bun pan rack didn't turn up anything that wasn't missing several rails. I wasn't willing to wait for anything ordered online to arrive, not to mention new ones are pretty expensive. I also have a tiny house. Even the slimmest bun pan rack would seem cumbersome in my boys' rooms.</div>
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<br /></div>
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So I took Megan's inspired solution one step further. I built my own slim-lined version of a bun pan rack. I started with the dimensions of the cookies sheets, factored in how many rails I wanted, how much space I wanted between each rail and went from there. I made the cabinet out of one 4'x8' sheet of plywood, several 8' sections of pine trim for the rails and a couple 8' lengths of 1x2s for the framework. I also added wheels to make it mobile. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiz3UNcETcP0ll95K-q_SSByt9mdSqyu47StsB0Y60lJNZVG-GFvi1BASR61KlbrgYHEZcgsGY-gTZq1tEjpYXCaqZE1-zm2Vca889g8j7HFuxg27Rd5tZBCIREKbw3Bq9P45x0GF6HMhM/s1600/IMG_8241-1LowRes.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiz3UNcETcP0ll95K-q_SSByt9mdSqyu47StsB0Y60lJNZVG-GFvi1BASR61KlbrgYHEZcgsGY-gTZq1tEjpYXCaqZE1-zm2Vca889g8j7HFuxg27Rd5tZBCIREKbw3Bq9P45x0GF6HMhM/s1600/IMG_8241-1LowRes.jpg" height="320" width="213" /></a></div>
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<i> <span style="font-size: small;">Voila! My LEGO cabinet. Look at all that storage!</span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-size: small;">Final footprint: 14 1/2" x 18 7/8"! It may be small, but it's mighty!</span></i></div>
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But I wasn't done yet. I'm a firm believer in waste-not, want-not. I had some leftover pieces from cutting the trim for the rails. I painted them, hot-glued flat LEGOs to the top, added some Velcro Command strips to the backs, and stuck them to one side of the cabinet for mini-figurine storage. The boys can take off a rail, switch out their figurines and snap the rail back onto the cabinet. Neat and tidy. Love those Velcro Command strips! </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYo17gTeSJ_a6Wa_rilCW4iuk4Di6TvzkcMUslYlN27dpQowoFB8vp1Vy4MmNkAk0-vLrB9oZANaMwnOycYHGziF4s8JcHSBcgQePyKkOleBmORs5X4CebVpR1OreUOV0NL2PROACXneU/s1600/IMG_8272-1CROPLowRes.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYo17gTeSJ_a6Wa_rilCW4iuk4Di6TvzkcMUslYlN27dpQowoFB8vp1Vy4MmNkAk0-vLrB9oZANaMwnOycYHGziF4s8JcHSBcgQePyKkOleBmORs5X4CebVpR1OreUOV0NL2PROACXneU/s1600/IMG_8272-1CROPLowRes.jpg" height="320" width="117" /></a></div>
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<i><span style="font-size: small;">Mini figurine storage</span></i></div>
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All in all, this cabinet has been such a huge success, I may just have to make another.<br />
<br />Leanne K.http://www.blogger.com/profile/11449651517009611073noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3457232519514614553.post-51569451952866982102014-03-07T14:28:00.000-06:002014-03-07T20:39:44.007-06:00God's Master Plan is Better Than Our Best Plan AMy husband, whom I have lovingly named Mr. Fix-It, and I had a Plan. Plan A was a lesson in futility. <br />
<br />
Plan A involved selling our existing house and building a new one in the town next-door to ours. We wanted to get our boys into a better school district and break free from the small constraints of our little old house. Our three sons are growing fast, and the walls of our house sometimes tremble at the effort to stand upright against their active play. By the time they are teenagers, I fully expect our house to crumble down around us. My husband also was ready to hang up his Mr. Fix-It tools for awhile after spending nearly 10 years in a house built in the 1930s. The house's quirks were making my husband quirky.<br />
<br />
So about three years ago, we came up with Plan A. We spent six months doing home-improvement projects every spare minute to get the house ready for market. We hung drywall, we mudded, we sanded, we painted, we stained window trim and asphyxiated ourselves refinishing our hardwood floors. We replaced windows and finished and hung new doors. We purged junk, deep cleaned and put things in storage. In the nine years we'd lived here, our house never looked so good, or so empty. Then we spent four months trying to sell it.<br />
<br />
Because we have so few spare minutes, it took us longer to get the house ready than we expected, so our time frame to sell was short by today's weak-market standards. We had a very solid reason for it, though, and that reason didn't give us any wiggle room. We had hoped the extra effort we made in getting the house ready to sell would pay off. It very nearly did. The first week it was on the market, one woman came through four times: two open houses, once by herself, and once to show her family. We thought we had her. Then she made an offer on the house down the street the very next week. The following week we had another interested buyer who came through three times: twice by herself and once with her mother. Until the day we took the house off the market, she was still "interested." Our time ran out, so we revised our dream.<br />
<br />
We have now finished Plan B. It's "only" been nearly three years since we took our house off the market. Our Plan B involved refinancing our home loan and ripping the kitchen out, down to the studs. The kitchen is the one room in this old house that we hadn't updated in any way, except for the new plumbing we installed when we first moved in.<br />
<br />
The kitchen had 1950s cupboards and countertops and a 1958 Westinghouse faux double oven. You read that right. A faux double-oven. The oven itself was more narrow than standard width and too shallow to put today's standard-size cookie sheets or roasting pans in without them propping the door open. Did I mention only one of the four burners worked? I cooked multiple-dish dinners for five people on one burner for almost 10 years and mostly managed to serve those meals hot. Can this be considered a talent? At one point, one of the oven coils burned out. I thought, "Great! I get to have a new stove!!" I was soooo excited. Enter my Mr. Fix-It. He actually found a store in town that could order a new replacement coil for a 1958 Westinghouse oven. I couldn't believe it. I really thought I had a new oven in the bag. I mean, what are the odds of finding a working replacement part for a 60-year-old oven? Mr. Fix-It not only found a replacement part, he found a NEW replacement part. The Beast stayed. I blame it for our house not selling. <br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">"The Beast"</span></span></div>
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Or maybe it was the rest of the kitchen. The floors were peel-and-stick vinyl tiles that hadn't been stuck on straight. The walls were covered with plastic, glued-on tiles that popped off anytime moisture came between the tiles and glue. It's a kitchen. With a sink. Guess how often I was gluing tiles back onto the wall around the sink? At one point, I gave up on a particular spot that no tile would stick to. I put a nail in the wall and hung a clock over it. Maybe potential buyers looked behind the clock.<br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">The old cabinets as Mr. Fix-It dismantles them. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">See how those ones on the top are hanging open? </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">That's what they all did. All the time.</span></span></div>
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The drawers had all fallen apart at some point, and every single one of them had been re-enforced with 1x3s by Mr. Fix-It. The cupboard doors were always hanging open because the magnets either were no longer magnetic or were not properly aligned to begin with. The interior of the cupboards had been painted white at some point. Whatever paint had been used flaked off. I tried sanding and re-painting the flaky paint, but the damage was done. My paint suffered the same fate. I would find my dishes full of white confetti on a daily basis. I would wash my dishes, put them away, and then wash them again when it was time to use them. Repeating myself is one of my pet peeves. You can imagine how this irritated me to no end. Did I mention all this dish-washing was by hand? Our 1950s kitchen had no dishwasher.<br />
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When our house and it's fabulous 1950s retro kitchen didn't sell in our allotted time frame, Mr. Fix-It and I were both crushed. Our dreams of a beautiful new home died a painful death. We grudgingly came up with the Plan B. Redesigning our kitchen gave us a new lease on life in our little old house. With the help of my father-in-law, we ripped out everything down to the studs and spent the next 6 months dealing with contractors, manufacturers and the quirks that come with a 1930s house. We discovered the two outside walls didn't have insulation, including the wall in which the previous homeowners installed a sliding door. Two out of the three new appliances we bought came broken in their boxes, several of the new cabinets were the wrong size, some of them were the wrong color and the countertop manufacturer delayed delivery four times. By the time the kitchen was finished, we were so stressed out we hardly cracked a smile. It was more a sigh of relief.<br />
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Almost three years later, we are still in our little old house with the new dream kitchen. The quartz countertops have since cracked once, right next to the new stove with the four working burners that get really hot. If it hadn't been for the installer advocating on our behalf with the manufacturer, we'd still have new cracked counters. Fortunately, the installer was able to put in a new, unblemished piece. It "only" took 6 more months and several phone calls after I reported the problem. <br />
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The older our boys get, the smaller our house still feels. The walls shake a little harder and the windows rattle a little louder, but everything is still standing. Who knows: maybe this starter home will be our forever-home. My Mr. Fix-It will have a hard time prying me away from my dream kitchen long enough to try and sell it. I LOVE this room in our little old house. I can't imagine selling it now. I take comfort that God has a master plan, which sometimes includes a Plan B that turns out better than our Plan A.<br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Our dream kitchen. We planned every square inch. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The best part about it? </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Every inch is functional. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Every appliance works, including all four stove burners.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I still catch myself only using one sometimes as I try to make dinner.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Some habits are hard to break. </span></span></div>
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<br />Leanne K.http://www.blogger.com/profile/11449651517009611073noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3457232519514614553.post-49244638685629751182011-09-14T13:54:00.002-05:002014-03-07T18:30:53.593-06:00My fall project is finished! Introducing the Lil' Fishstick KitOne of my Mom Duties I most enjoy is thinking up creative gift ideas for the
boys. I have a tendency to
brainstorm and then enlist my husband when its time to turn my
ideas into a reality. Our biggest joint effort to date is an enormous train table that sits in our basement playroom. It is big enough for a large layout of Thomas the Train Take-N-Play tracks and buildings. However, if it ever needs to be moved out of the basement, the whole thing can easily come apart. <br />
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My newest idea is a magnetic felt
fish/fishing pole set. This idea has been simmering in the back of my mind for a few years. My husband likes to fish, and the boys have begun to go with him. Since we live in a state that is cold for about 8 months of the year, I thought they might like some sort of indoor fishing game/activity. I have looked in stores and online for what I had in mind, and have found nothing that impresses me enough to buy. <br />
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I am making this project for my soon-to-be 4-year-old's October birthday, but I know all three boys will want to play with it. So, one of my requirements for the fishing set was it had to be simple enough for a 4-year-old, but intriguing enough for my 8-year-old. Most of the "crafty" sets I've found online include really cute magnetic felt fish, but very, very simple wooden dowel rods with a magnet on the end of an attached string. This would be fine for my youngest, but would bore my oldest to tears within minutes. There has been absolutely nothing, other than plastic bath toys, in stores. <br />
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So I put my thoughts on paper and came up with my own kit. <br />
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First I found some printable fish templates I could use as my starting point. These two sites had free templates that translated well into patterns:<br />
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http://www.coloringcastle.com/fish_coloring_pages.html<br />
http://www.firstpalette.com/tool_box/printables/coralreeffishes.html<br />
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Then, through trial and error, came up with my first usable fish. It took me a few tries to develop a fish that looked nice, was a good weight, and had a strong enough magnet that could pass through two layers of felt. I also needed something metallic that I could anchor <i>inside </i>the fish for the magnet to catch. Almost all of the handmade sets I had seen for sale online used a very small, exposed washer sewn to the mouth of the fish. I didn't want any small parts exposed. Other than the obvious choking hazard, my boys are rough on things. They would yank those "hooks" out in a heartbeat. So I found larger washers and anchored them to the interior of the fish. They are big enough to attract a strong magnet and there is no way they are ever coming out.<br />
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Then I had to figure out a pole. That was a design challenge. I found a very cute, child-sized trout creel (basket) at a local hobby store. That gave me my starting point for the pole. I thought, "Wouldn't it be nice if not only the fish, but the pole, fit inside this little basket?" I like things tidy, so making a set that stored in one basket seemed like a good idea. That meant the boys would either have a very short pole (the basket is only 8" long) or the pole would have to fold somehow. So I designed a folding wooden fishing pole. It also needed to be a little more complicated than a dowel with an attached string. I wanted it to mimic a real fishing pole as closely as possible, so I thought it should have a reel. <br />
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This time, my husband lucked out. I designed and built the poles myself. Each basket holds one pole and 6 colorful fish. I'm thinking my older two boys will get their sets for Christmas. Until then, all three will have to practice their sharing skills.<br />
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I call it the "Lil' Fishstick Kit"<br />
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The fishing pole, trout creel and six colorful felt fish.</div>
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How the pole looks when it is folded up.</div>
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The pole and fish fit neatly into the creel - a toy with its own storage system!<br />
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Leanne K.http://www.blogger.com/profile/11449651517009611073noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3457232519514614553.post-83810075643210331562011-09-07T23:37:00.000-05:002011-09-14T23:17:16.951-05:00Home sweet homeIt's been quite awhile since I've had time to blog. I had to take a hiatus from writing because my plate was just too full. In the last year, we've been repairing our basement from a very freakish flash flood in the neighborhood, then preparing our house to sell (the bigger our boys get, the smaller our house feels!), keeping it clean while it was on the market and then making the difficult decision to pull it off the market when it didn't sell in the time frame we had. It was a very long year, with a lot of back-breaking labor (I never want to have to refinish wood floors again!), with very little in the way of pay-off, except that our house now looks as good as it did when we moved into it eight years ago, before we had three little boys! I give it less than three months to revert back to it's well-loved state.<br />
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However, now that I'm not trying to get some home-improvement project done or worrying about keeping a spotless house with every surface gleaming and everything in its rightful place, I have time to be an interactive mom again. So far, the kids and I have been baking up a storm and making a glorious mess in the kitchen. Today, we baked 8 dozen sugar cookies, and then frosted and decorated them. Powdered sugar dusted every surface, sprinkles crunched underfoot, and an egg white ended up in a gooey slime all over the floor at one point. But did I care? NO! We thoroughly enjoyed our day and ended up with half of our cookies decorated. The sprinkle factory had to shut down when I ran out of powdered sugar to make frosting. I didn't quite estimate correctly the output on a double batch of my great-grandmother's sugar cookies! I had piles and towers of cookies everywhere. As it was, we did get the quantity done that we needed for the boys' school Halloween parties next month. They are now safely tucked away in the freezer and I can cross that off my list of things-to-do.<br />
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Today's time in the kitchen with the boys also gave me a proud Momma Moment. All of my cookie-decorating lessons I've given the kids in the last few years have paid off. I noticed today that instead of licking fingers to get the sticky frosting off them while they were decorating their cookies, they would carefully wipe them on the paper towels I had provided. The one time one of them slipped up and took a lick, he remembered to stop, and before touching anything else, got down from his chair and washed his hands in the bathroom. That's my boy.<br />
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<br />Leanne K.http://www.blogger.com/profile/11449651517009611073noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3457232519514614553.post-18890205470377065772011-01-04T18:48:00.004-06:002011-01-04T18:55:47.630-06:00Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year!It was a very merry Christmas in my family this year. Mainly because my three boys were showered with all the presents their little heart's desired and as much loving attention from relatives as they could wish for. They wouldn't admit it, but I noticed their happiness meters went up significantly the more attention they got from grandmas, grandpas and cousins, rather than from which presents they got. It was wonderful seeing them revel in all the adoration. They are so fortunate to still have all of their grandparents and most of their great-grandparents still living. The most anticipated part of my holiday season is seeing these beloved relatives.<br />
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If my boys were asked what their favorite part of Christmas was, though, they wouldn't hesitate to enthusiastically claim, "PRESENTS!!!!" They spent two entire days opening gifts. Spoiled doesn't begin to describe my little munchkins. <br />
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They harvested a whole bushel of weapons and ammunition. I'm not kidding - I have a bushel-sized wicker laundry basket that now holds our weapons cache. This year alone, they became the proud owners of eight Nerf dart guns, three marshmallow guns and three "Star Wars" lightsabers. They also got the ammo to go with the first and second, and Jedi capes to go with the last. <br />
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I'm not a lover of violence or weaponry, by any means. In fact, I'd consider myself more of a pacifist. I'm coming to learn that one woman in a houseful of boys doesn't stand a chance at instigating quiet, peaceful playtime. But I have to admit that these new toys have already provided hours of imaginative activity. My boys have shot down the bad guys in a battle zone, fought the separatists and empire at a rebel base camp in a "Star Wars" galaxy far far away and hunted down ghosts in our supposedly haunted house, just to name a few. I can't help but smile when their playtime is punctuated by shouts of "Dang Nabbit! The ghost got away!" or "Hurry! My gun needs to power up!" (In other words, "Bring more darts! Quick!") It makes my heart smile to see them interacting so joyfully with each other.<br />
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I did come up with one gift to counteract all the weapons I knew they were getting: a play doctor kit. When they get hurt, they go visit the "doctor's office" to get patched up so they can return to duty. The worst injuries reported so far have been suffered by my 3-year-old: once when he was whapped on the head with a lightsaber by Grandpa, on accident of course. And again when he decided to turn his Jedi cape into a ghost costume and head-butted a table because he couldn't see where he was going.<br />
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The bruise on my 3-year-old's forehead is just beginning to fade, but I hope their happy memories of this holiday season stay with them for years to come!Leanne K.http://www.blogger.com/profile/11449651517009611073noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3457232519514614553.post-2144822981176432502010-09-11T21:30:00.000-05:002010-09-11T21:30:18.825-05:00Questions don't get easier to answer as children get older, the questions just get harderLately, I have discovered parenting isn't about how little you know you know, but how much your kids think you know. I'm wondering how long I can keep up the pretense of being the smartest person in their little universes. The older my boys get, the more thought-provoking their questions. Sometimes it takes me awhile to: 1. Puzzle out what they are actually asking and 2. Come up with a good answer!<br />
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I've begun to call them my "Mom-Question-Of-The-Day," because I get at least one, sometimes more, every day.<br />
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Often, they are simple procedural questions of "what" "when" or "where". I like those. I'm usually good at answering them. They are the easiest, and usually, quickest questions to answer. Sometimes, though, I unwittingly give an explanation that leaves them more worried than before they asked the question. For instance, when my oldest son asked me to sew up a tear in his big bear, I got out my needle, thread and scissors and started threading the needle. He eyed the scissors and very politely, in a voice full of concern asked, "So I see you have a pair of scissors, Mom. What are you going to do with that?" I don't think my explanation of what I was about to do shored up his confidence in my "surgical" skills. His look of concern intensified and he cautioned me sternly to "Please be careful and not slip." His nerves didn't settle until the bear was out of surgery and he could inspect my work.<br />
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Other questions leave me marveling at the active imaginations and thought processes of my children. They are trying very hard to figure out their world, and it is such a joy to be a part of their solutions. This category usually involves the "how's" and "why's" of things. My 4- and 7-year-old sons are pros at asking these. I can tell my 2-year-old is taking mental notes as he listens to the dialogue with rapt attention. <br />
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These questions run along the lines of:<br />
1. "Mom, how and why does it rain when the sun is still shining?" ~ from my oldest and middle children <br />
2. "So Mom, Dad didn't go on any trails today, so why is some of the trail mix gone?" ~ from my 7-year-old<br />
3. "Mom, how do you make mud?" ~ from my 4-year-old. I thought to myself, "Finally! One I can answer easily!" <br />
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It was followed up a few hours later by:<br />
4. "Mom, how do babies grow in mommies' tummies?" ~ from my 4-year-old, followed by,<br />
5. "Mom, what would happen to me if I wasn't born?" ~ from my 7-year-old<br />
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I am beginning to wonder why they never ask their father some of these questions. For instance, I'm sure my husband would have been able to handle the recipe for mud. And he could have explained to our oldest why he ate the trail mix, even though he didn't go on any trails that day. But, alas, they always begin with "Mom, ...." I'm going to have to start studying. Too bad there isn't a parent handbook with the answers to the mysteries of the universe in it!Leanne K.http://www.blogger.com/profile/11449651517009611073noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3457232519514614553.post-37505398818093655402010-08-25T13:41:00.000-05:002010-08-25T13:41:40.282-05:00Summer flew by in the blink of an eyeWhere has the summer gone? I haven't been able to keep up with anything, including my blog. <br />
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The big highlight of the season for my husband and me was a two-week whirlwind trip through Switzerland and France. It was our first trip to Europe and the longest we have ever been away from our kids, so we were a little nervous. It didn't help that the day before we left, our partially finished basement was completely destroyed by a freak flash flood in our neighborhood. We do not live in a flood plain and generally don't have water problems with normal rain. Five inches of water in one hour is not normal rain. The city sewer and storm systems couldn't handle it. Neither could a lot of foundations in the neighborhood. We were one of the lucky ones. We had six inches of sewage/storm water standing in our basement. We lost all of our finished flooring and part of the walls. The cleaning bill was horrendous. But we didn't lose any foundation walls, like a house two doors down did. And we didn't lose our water heater, furnace, central air, washer and dryer or any major pieces of furniture, like so many others did. Those were the silver linings to an otherwise very very cloudy day. <br />
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The day after disaster hit, my husband and I traveled with another couple to Europe, leaving my wonderful parents-in-law with our kids and our wreck of a house. (They stayed for a few days to let the cleaning service in and out.) We spent several days with our European friends, peppered with our own explorations in-between. We saw the Swiss Alps, climbed down a mountain in Luzern; sat on the rocky shores of Lake Geneva; rode a chocolate train to tour a cheese factory, a chocolate factory and the ancient city and castle of Gruyere (where the cheese is from); visited the WWII memorials in Normandy; marveled at the preserved architecture in the medieval town of Bayeux; walked the streets and museums of Paris, celebrated Bastille Day with thousands of Parisians; explored the ancient Roman town of Arles and its coliseum; browsed the giant outdoor markets in L'Isle sur la Sorgue and took a cable car up a mountain to an old military fort in Grenoble. It was a very busy trip! <br />
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The boys had just as much fun as we did this summer. While we were on our trip, they got to spend a week with each set of grandparents. They ate potato chips, Ding Dongs, and parade candy to their hearts' content; picked blueberries; watched a parade; explored the zoo; saw cousins; dissolved into giggles when Grandma sat her cat on a whoopi cushion; and had lots of fun water and craft times. <br />
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Between the traveling, we kept busy with standard hot-weather fare, like swimming lessons for my two oldest sons. Seeing family, going to story times and play dates, visiting the local parks and catching up on doctor's appointments for our family of five rounded out the few weeks we had off from school and day care. <br />
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At my 7-year-old's annual physical, it was determined he needed glasses. Convincing him they were necessary left me with frazzled nerves and him on the verge of a temper tantrum. My husband and I pulled out the oldest trick in the book to head the public meltdown off at the pass: bribery. We promised him he could get a new Star Wars toy if he'd behave when it came time to pick out his glasses. The only string we attached was he had to use his piggy bank money to buy the toy. We should have added one other string: in order to keep the toy he had to actually wear the glasses! He did a great job deciding which pair of glasses to get and enjoyed getting to pick out and pay for his toy. Then we got home. He refused to wear them. I hadn't anticipated that little bump in the road, so I implemented a new glasses policy: According to the doctor, he was near-sighted, so he'd have to wear the glasses while he was at school and for sports. He could go without them when he had free time at home. On the first day of school, I slipped his glasses on him before he went out the door. I didn't get one peep of complaint from him. He kept them on until he walked out of school at the end of the day. He's been operating within the boundaries of the new policy ever since.<br />
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Whew! What a summer. I'm wondering how the coming year will go. On tap: fixing our "broken" basement, getting the house ready to sell (as the boys grow, the rooms seem to be shrinking), starting day care again, sending my oldest off to second grade and my 4-year-old to preschool, and preparing for my 7-year-old's back surgery next summer. I have a feeling this school year will go by just as fast as summer did.Leanne K.http://www.blogger.com/profile/11449651517009611073noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3457232519514614553.post-46908369771499817772010-06-29T11:32:00.000-05:002010-06-29T11:32:16.881-05:00Family tradition becomes treasured gift as time flies byGrowing up, attending air shows across the country with my dad was a family tradition. One of our favorites was also one of the closest to our home: the Quad Cities Air Show in Moline, Ill. As we've grown up and away from home, it's been harder to keep the tradition alive. This year we missed the show, but last year two of my siblings and I surprised Dad by going with him on Father's Day weekend. It was such a fun day and, I think, the best gift we could have given him if his hugs and smiles were anything to go by.<br />
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<table cellspacing="0" cellpadding="0" border="0" bgcolor="#ffffff"><tr><td><a href="http://www.smilebox.com/play/4d5463324e4455774e7a4d3d0d0a&blogview=true&campaign=blog_playback_link" target="_blank"><img width="386" height="303" alt="Click to play this Smilebox slideshow: Father's Day 2009" src="http://www.smilebox.com/snap/4d5463324e4455774e7a4d3d0d0a.jpg" style="border: medium none ;"/></a></td></tr><tr><td><a href="http://www.smilebox.com/?partner=smilebox&campaign=blog_snapshot" target="_blank"><img width="386" height="46" alt="Create your own slideshow - Powered by Smilebox" src="http://www.smilebox.com/globalImages/blogInstructions/blogLogoSmileboxSmall.gif" style="border: medium none ;"/></a></td></tr><tr><td align="center">This <a href="http://www.smilebox.com/all/" target="_blank">digital slideshow</a> generated with Smilebox</td></tr></table>Leanne K.http://www.blogger.com/profile/11449651517009611073noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3457232519514614553.post-83626145206210087822010-05-25T20:23:00.002-05:002014-03-20T09:56:08.466-05:00Magic Muck: a solid or liquid, depending on how you hold it<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-size: small;"></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;">I have one book in my house I consider the go-to end-all of crafts and fun scientific experiments for kids. It's called "The Super Enormous Gigantic Collection of Kid Concoctions 2," written by John E. Thomas and Danita Thomas. I got the book as a thank-you gift for donating to Iowa Public Television a few years ago. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">The book's experiments and crafts mostly are done with common items found around the house and cost only a few dollars, or less, each. I've used the book so often, and my kids have enjoyed the ideas so much, I decided to buy a Kid Concoctions book as an end-of-the-year-thanks-for-being-a-great-teacher gift for my son's first-grade teacher. I hope she gets as much school-room use out of it as I've gotten from it here at home.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">The following recipe for "Magic Muck" comes from the book I have. Magic Muck is a liquid until you gather some in your hand and squeeze. Then it turns solid. Open your hand back up, and it converts to a liquid to slide through your fingers. The boys were absolutely fascinated. My husband, who is a chemist, was too. He wanted to take a container of it to show his co-workers. The messy factor was a big bonus for the boys, but extremely easy to clean up for me. The substance basically dissolves upon contact with more water.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><b>Magic Muck:</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">3/4 cup cornstarch</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">1/3 cup water</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">5-7 drops washable food coloring (optional, the muck is just white if you don't color it) </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><b>Directions:</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">Mix water and food coloring together in a small bowl. Slowly add cornstarch to water and food coloring mixture. Do not stir. Let stand for 2-3 minutes. Pick up a handful of Magic Muck and squeeze it until it forms a hard ball. Open your hand and the Magic Muck will turn from a solid ball back into a liquid.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><i>Tips:</i> Experiment by adding different proportions of water and cornstarch. Or add a little glitter to make it sparkle.</span></div>
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<span id="ecxrole_document" style="font-size: small;">A limited line of Kid Concoctions products, such as the kid-friendly paint brushes, can be found at Michael's Arts and Crafts at the moment. Danita Thomas told me this line has discontinued production, but her and her husband are set to launch a new line of Kid Concoctions products in early 2011 through Alex Toys. Favorite products, like their washable food coloring, will be re-launched and new products will be introduced, along with a new and updated book. </span><span style="font-size: small;">The Kid Concoctions Web site currently has a 10-year anniversary book for sale that combines four of the Thomas' previous books, including the recipes I have in mine. After the new product line and book are launched, the Web site will expand the shopping offerings on its store link or will directly link to the Alex product page. For more information about the company and products, visit the Kid Concoctions Web site at www.kidconcoctionscompany.com.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><i>****Magic Muck recipe reprinted with express permission from John E. and Danita Thomas, </i></span><span style="font-size: small;"><i>founders of Kid Concoctions</i></span><span style="font-size: small;"><i> and authors of "The Super Enormous Gigantic Collection of Kid Concoctions 2."</i></span></div>
Leanne K.http://www.blogger.com/profile/11449651517009611073noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3457232519514614553.post-77525992010965596132010-05-24T14:03:00.015-05:002010-05-24T14:26:52.321-05:00A bright idea: a solar-powered nightlight<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-size: small;"></span><br />
<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">I was in a crafty mood today, but I didn't have any idea what to do. It was a babysitting day, so whatever I decided had to be something 2- and 4-year-olds could handle. I went to one of my favorite crafty blogs, www.simplemessyfun.com, to see if the author had posted anything new I could use. Sure enough, she had: solar-powered nightlights. Stick them in a window during day-light hours to charge; put them in your child's bedroom at night for a soft, soothing light.</span></div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Apparently, this idea isn't new. Simplemessyfun's author found the idea on a different blog, and that blog's author had found it on yet another Web site. But the idea was new to me and looked like it had a lot of potential.</span></div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-size: small;">So I loaded up all four boys and the double stroller and went to the local home improvement store in search of supplies. </span></div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><b><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-size: small;">Supply list:</span></b></div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-size: small;">1. solar-powered garden lights</span></div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-size: small;">2. glass jars with a wide mouth (this idea might work with hand-punched soup cans too ...) </span></div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-size: small;">3. frost spray paint or translucent items to put in jar (glass beads/rocks, marbles, etc.)</span></div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-size: small;">4. some sort of adhesive - silicone caulk, hot glue, sticky tack, tacky strips (found them near the hot glue supplies), or glue dots</span></div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiittvclpLtsMp7TA2MC1KrkAXw4ppLIoSi69X3Bo4Qir7dh1Dk0Va6naG9ipVcaHbO_B5XWosPHFOlH-QlQz3Uu4A0R-1jB-1_H5xP1bHjFHJQffX-H6Ugmnwb_Xq0atTHivClKjF8jdw/s1600/DSC04070.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiittvclpLtsMp7TA2MC1KrkAXw4ppLIoSi69X3Bo4Qir7dh1Dk0Va6naG9ipVcaHbO_B5XWosPHFOlH-QlQz3Uu4A0R-1jB-1_H5xP1bHjFHJQffX-H6Ugmnwb_Xq0atTHivClKjF8jdw/s320/DSC04070.jpg" /></a></div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><i><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-size: small;">The main supplies: The jar, garden light and glass "rocks." I apologize for the blurry images - I grabbed my old point-and-shoot because it was handy and fast ...</span></i></div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-size: small;"><br />
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</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6OvhK9E70ku1qRRXGHow_Xk7XLattbedC29GPXxG8D8HRix4Gtx5gJPL0GuZnUlZdnPGp11HrIXV8ZzM-MbBC-VGYF0nNVfRetKcVCepbpcnAyVA6OGL6TjKwotXQxSrhMRKy-6uqTPQ/s1600/DSC04072.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6OvhK9E70ku1qRRXGHow_Xk7XLattbedC29GPXxG8D8HRix4Gtx5gJPL0GuZnUlZdnPGp11HrIXV8ZzM-MbBC-VGYF0nNVfRetKcVCepbpcnAyVA6OGL6TjKwotXQxSrhMRKy-6uqTPQ/s320/DSC04072.jpg" /></a></div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><i><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-size: small;">The garden light is by the brand, "Yards and Beyond." </span></i></div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-size: small;"><br />
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</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-size: small;">The solar-powered garden lights and frost spray paint can be found at Lowe's Home Improvement store. The lights are sold individually for $5 each. The tops of the lights pop right off the garden stakes, which makes assembling the nightlights a snap. A can of spray paint runs about $5, but if doing this with young children, I'd skip the paint.</span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgESH-wCCJLhe9ND600Kq-5BaAg2Jm6bd0kxyT4OpxVSCIGCB8xGpdrVI36JlJdxyPkRfEcFAAmO5MBqBkhgc78UUIkY7i58iTXjkFh0QLNIPu5RY4qei8o6GwYNL5IBVaoRHw7SVqi9Og/s1600/DSC04074.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgESH-wCCJLhe9ND600Kq-5BaAg2Jm6bd0kxyT4OpxVSCIGCB8xGpdrVI36JlJdxyPkRfEcFAAmO5MBqBkhgc78UUIkY7i58iTXjkFh0QLNIPu5RY4qei8o6GwYNL5IBVaoRHw7SVqi9Og/s320/DSC04074.jpg" /></a></div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-size: small;"> <i>The tops of the solar lights.</i></span></div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-size: small;"><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-size: small;">I looked for the jars at Wal-Mart, but didn't find any. Hobby Lobby, however, came through with flying colors. The jars were 50 percent off this week. Since they started at $1.99, I got them for just $1 each.</span><span style="font-size: small;"> I also found a new product there I've never tried. It was a roll of clear adhesive strips advertised as an alternative to hot glue. </span><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9KtNIi6s2i2sQewxsv8tweJfIjbhDjTdwPU2oLFQDIMgPNsG4kPpuLM7cqlH4eb1C9aPspm0IbnipznwBsBQ0Zj2-c4EaOsuEQY_Qv0zS6A2jKzaTHCBF7oE4mHCh8s1O_YlOCyFK2vg/s1600/DSC04075.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9KtNIi6s2i2sQewxsv8tweJfIjbhDjTdwPU2oLFQDIMgPNsG4kPpuLM7cqlH4eb1C9aPspm0IbnipznwBsBQ0Zj2-c4EaOsuEQY_Qv0zS6A2jKzaTHCBF7oE4mHCh8s1O_YlOCyFK2vg/s320/DSC04075.jpg" /></a></div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><i><span style="font-size: small;">Zips Clear Adhesive Lines - a hot glue alternative</span></i></div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;">Since I was doing this project with young children, I picked up a roll to see if it would do the job. I ended up having to apply it around the rim of the jars myself because, boy, was it sticky. It did the job, though, was a lot less messy than hot glue, and resulted in a strong enough bond that the kids couldn't pry the "lid" off.</span></div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">At Hobby Lobby, I also found the clear glass "rocks" normally used in fish tanks to fill the jars. I thought this was something a little more kid-friendly than using frosted spray paint.</span></div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">The boys really enjoyed filling their jars with the glass rocks and thought the end result was just "way cool," according to my 4-year-old. </span><br />
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<b><span style="font-size: small;">Instructions:</span></b><br />
<span style="font-size: small;">1. Paint outside of jar with "frosted glass" spray paint or fill with translucent material</span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;">2. Apply clear adhesive to rim of jar</span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;">3. Attach solar light</span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;">4. Set nightlight in window to charge and it will be ready to use by the evening!</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"><b>Total cost:</b> Approximately $8 for each light. Could be more or less depending on materials used.</span></div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgu5HU6SrehryEqYOLs-8SzAbLsetJouxkfoJUHwiD6vz86xVGiC_eQCg9CLKgX9yQqiUx932V4DxyvZoQXkls2vnNLTlGnphxPkhn9X5mDQ2N_HPlxim9srQw5uCDG5CgyIWANSVSU9c/s1600/DSC04078.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgu5HU6SrehryEqYOLs-8SzAbLsetJouxkfoJUHwiD6vz86xVGiC_eQCg9CLKgX9yQqiUx932V4DxyvZoQXkls2vnNLTlGnphxPkhn9X5mDQ2N_HPlxim9srQw5uCDG5CgyIWANSVSU9c/s320/DSC04078.jpg" /></a><br />
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</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-L3aaV8L5eTS-7A9MpmSM499kjDXbMyIvcovdFS3zpCLCnK6BS9RIQlPWGowdSSMzSymVmPoMRhPOi1_4R24YYR4aGOLnxD8MBB2jCY0K7wAKoaiHBi9aClIIrNG4Xk1qNDrDxZ8NYAM/s1600/DSC04080.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-L3aaV8L5eTS-7A9MpmSM499kjDXbMyIvcovdFS3zpCLCnK6BS9RIQlPWGowdSSMzSymVmPoMRhPOi1_4R24YYR4aGOLnxD8MBB2jCY0K7wAKoaiHBi9aClIIrNG4Xk1qNDrDxZ8NYAM/s320/DSC04080.jpg" /></a><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div></div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisGX_fL_XS7iESInlStow-UwdsDiZT33FWEvnq-d51yWfSezK8cwkCL2AWoj9apRSWLgPLJN8IrRMFi8U4V1kQson8VNPMsgf-QcCtGBTbjmaQdry0r8B7ZZFo-RfBvAp65GJTZyxteUU/s1600/DSC04090.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisGX_fL_XS7iESInlStow-UwdsDiZT33FWEvnq-d51yWfSezK8cwkCL2AWoj9apRSWLgPLJN8IrRMFi8U4V1kQson8VNPMsgf-QcCtGBTbjmaQdry0r8B7ZZFo-RfBvAp65GJTZyxteUU/s320/DSC04090.jpg" /></a></div><div style="text-align: left;"><i><span style="font-size: small;">The end result. Note: the solar light replaces the jar lid.</span></i></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwSw_3Sz8K3uO_UsRqc97BCrh97ew1TyJfk4voYHWxIXH1XXy36sPE2JNh9OMOBOFzr4ggwQ9WsgMs3MKNCM8kW2e_ole8EF3DgVGc62kJslU9cIcsdIty6vaXwVa2mjpZ7A5vkktx1-4/s1600/DSC04083.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwSw_3Sz8K3uO_UsRqc97BCrh97ew1TyJfk4voYHWxIXH1XXy36sPE2JNh9OMOBOFzr4ggwQ9WsgMs3MKNCM8kW2e_ole8EF3DgVGc62kJslU9cIcsdIty6vaXwVa2mjpZ7A5vkktx1-4/s320/DSC04083.jpg" /></a></div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; text-align: left;"><i><span style="font-size: small;">Illumination!</span></i></div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
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</span></div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small;">*** One word of caution: If you decide to fill the glass jars with something, instead of spray painting them, be sure to put them out of reach of very young children. If shaken too hard, the glass jar will break.</span></div>Leanne K.http://www.blogger.com/profile/11449651517009611073noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3457232519514614553.post-65060729214791514332010-05-23T07:17:00.016-05:002010-05-25T09:19:17.068-05:00A fun-filled day with the family costs very little and has big returns<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Since leaving my job three years ago, I've spent a lot of time exploring the Cedar Valley with my boys. Living on one income means my husband and I have had to be creative in finding budget-friendly things to do for a family of five. The Cedar Valley hasn't disappointed.</span></div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Yesterday, we spent the entire day enjoying the town, for less than $20. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;">In the morning, my husband took the boys out and about so I could get caught up on housework. No fun for me, but the father-son time was much needed by the boys. They explored a farmer's market, took a short car ride to buy manly red meat for supper at the Gilbertville Meat Locker, and went to the local home improvement store. My husband wasn't there to look at tools with the boys - he was there to teach them how to use them. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;">Lowe's offers a free Build & Grow program for kids that involves building simple wooden toys with the help of a parent or caregiver. Saturday's project was a mini catapult that launched ping-pong balls. The boys came home bouncing from the excitement of their morning and showing off their newly constructed toys. My husband only had one small complaint - his thumbs were a little sore from holding the nails for novice hammer-wielders. Next weekend, the project is a car. I'm hoping my husband's hands are sufficiently recovered for round two.</span></div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">After lunch and naps, we decided to explore the University of Northern Iowa's prairie preserve. The preserve is part of the Tallgrass Prairie Center and is located on 65 acres surrounding the Center for Energy & Environmental Education (CEEE) on campus. The Center was established in 1999 to "develop research, techniques, education and Source Identified seed for restoration and preservation of prairie vegetation in rights-of-way and other lands" according to its Web site. </span><span style="font-size: small;">A few years ago, the center decided to give the public free access to the preserve. Our oldest boy led the way as we explored the winding trails and followed the paths along the creek. We had to spend some time watching the water from the bridge before we found our way back to the van. </span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqrUHbBVwtPbKF4nDvBwbB_lbWIsNrWtdh6gaR66N_GCNop6_xq8SfFgiP3m8D2zXmyyxN_8PGivqzZRQq_NyfWBLr4j_g-IeK7ImUEarUp3L6QFYc3TLMogiN0zt3kqRzcQQBVwY67kE/s1600/DSC04039.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqrUHbBVwtPbKF4nDvBwbB_lbWIsNrWtdh6gaR66N_GCNop6_xq8SfFgiP3m8D2zXmyyxN_8PGivqzZRQq_NyfWBLr4j_g-IeK7ImUEarUp3L6QFYc3TLMogiN0zt3kqRzcQQBVwY67kE/s320/DSC04039.jpg" /></a></div><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"><i>Exploring the prairie preserve. </i></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><i>The prairie grasses were only </i></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"><i>Helping nature out </i></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"><i>Following the paths </i></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHqMuhwReecYeULit37PQ9y5A5js9wFTWMRJCvedvIkV9JnpcTWnYsS3SrJP28XEuVlJzVoY4DUJ7YlPVsu7VfSIo4lWGK2bkhhtj-MukQbIdYpg8zylj4ol_ev_jravWRxJ2WdxmDmfM/s1600/DSC04059.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHqMuhwReecYeULit37PQ9y5A5js9wFTWMRJCvedvIkV9JnpcTWnYsS3SrJP28XEuVlJzVoY4DUJ7YlPVsu7VfSIo4lWGK2bkhhtj-MukQbIdYpg8zylj4ol_ev_jravWRxJ2WdxmDmfM/s320/DSC04059.jpg" /></a><i> </i><br />
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<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><i><span style="font-size: small;">The boys enjoyed watching the water flow under the bridge.</span></i></div><br />
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<i><span style="font-size: small;">Happy, but tired, explorers.</span></i></div><br />
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<div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small;">It was a hot walk, so we went to our favorite ice cream shop, Four Queens Dairy in Cedar Falls, to cool down with some shakes, which we ate while sitting next to the rushing waters of the Cedar River. Of course, the ice cream gave the boys their second wind, so next it was off to follow the path along the river and hike across the big bridge. On the other side, William found a mountainous pile of limestone rocks he thought looked like a good place to play. My husband and I caught our breath while the boys discovered the joys of rock climbing. After several trips from the bottom to the top and back again, it was time to go. Red-faced and weary, they were exhausted.</span></div></div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-size: small;">It was a fun day filled with new discoveries and learning opportunities.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-size: small;">For a map of UNI's campus: www.uni.edu/infosys/tour/</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-size: small;">More information about the Tallgrass Prairie Center: www.tallgrassprairiecenter.org/</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-size: small;">Lowe's Build & Grow projects (</span><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-size: small;">check your local store for program schedule)</span><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-size: small;">: www.lowescreativeideas.com/build-grow/build-and-grow.aspx. </span>Leanne K.http://www.blogger.com/profile/11449651517009611073noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3457232519514614553.post-51597171740826422642010-05-15T21:59:00.002-05:002014-03-20T10:05:51.625-05:00My 2-year-old, the artist<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;">My 2-year-old son is intent on exploring his artistic talents. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">A few weeks ago, he found a marker and tried his hand as a graffiti artist by tagging his bedroom walls, dresser, piggy bank, window, bed, bedding and teddy bears. He became a tattoo artist when he used the same marker to turn himself into a smurf after he was done with his room.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">Tonight, he explored the art of stained glass. He had a brief introduction to this with the blue marker episode. Instead of creating translucent blue window panes, though, he tried a new medium: Vicks Vapo Rub. By the time we caught on to what he was doing, the bottom half of a window in his brother's room sported opaque, wavy glass. Very sticky, greasy, opaque, wavy glass. The very creative whorls and swirls he had drawn diffused the light into a soft glow. It was beautiful, and stinky.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;">The smell gave him away. When the central air fan kicked on, it picked up the scent and wafted it through every vent in the house. When the living room started smelling like Vicks Vapo Rub, we went looking for the culprit. We were not surprised to find our troublesome 2-year-old, completely absorbed in his gooey endeavor. The stench was so bad, it knocked us back on our heels, made our noses burn and our eyes tear up. Our toddler, of course, wasn't bothered in the least.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">After several hand washings and a bath, he still went to bed with menthol-fresh skin tonight. </span></div>
Leanne K.http://www.blogger.com/profile/11449651517009611073noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3457232519514614553.post-87740575176535494602010-05-14T16:20:00.000-05:002010-05-14T16:20:12.989-05:00When learning takes a backseat to having fun<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">My oldest son came home from school today and exclaimed, "Mom! We didn't do any learning today!"</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Since my son is at school for eight hours a day, and I couldn't fathom how he could have missed learning <i>something </i>new in all those hours, I was a bit confused. "You didn't learn <i>anything</i> today?" I asked.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">"No! Instead, we watched a movie, had two recesses, had gym class, had extra gym class and had popcorn and M&Ms!" he said, as he ticked off the list on his fingers.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">I knew that night was the annual Parent Teacher Organization Ice Cream Social fundraiser at the school, so I figured the administration must have decided to make the whole day into a party for the students. Being the responsible parent I try to be, I made a point to emphasize how important it was to always try to learn something new every day, and wasn't he a little sad he didn't learn anything that day?</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">His response, "No! It was fun!" </span></span>Leanne K.http://www.blogger.com/profile/11449651517009611073noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3457232519514614553.post-14898741950278804232010-05-12T09:36:00.000-05:002010-05-12T09:36:10.065-05:00What starts out frozen, but is better hot?<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">I called my husband at work the other day to get his opinion. I was out of ideas for supper and I was behind on my menu-planning. I had also had a rough day, and I was exhausted. Cooking was beyond my abilities at that point, so I called to see if he had any bright ideas or food cravings. He didn't.</span></div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">My middle son was standing by my elbow as I asked my husband, "So, how about frozen pizza, then?" Before my husband could respond, my 4-year-old piped up, "NO, MOM! I want <i>hot </i>pizza! I don't like frozen pizza."</span></div><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-size: small;"><br />
I never did get an answer out of my husband. He was too busy laughing on the other end of the line.</span>Leanne K.http://www.blogger.com/profile/11449651517009611073noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3457232519514614553.post-28234824345065638282010-05-06T12:34:00.002-05:002010-05-06T12:39:35.040-05:00Shopping with toddlers the fastest cure for any shop-o-holic<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">I was reminded today again of why I never, ever, try to go shopping with my kids. </span></div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Summer is right around the corner and I'm working on changing out my three sons' wardrobes. It's an easy job for my two youngest: pull out the plastic tote marked with the right size of clothes inside, pull the summer clothes out, put the winter clothes in, store the tote again. </span></span></div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">It's a much longer and more difficult task for my oldest. He doesn't have any hand-me-downs sitting in a tote in a closet. I can do one or more of the following options when trying to clothe my ever-growing oldest son: cross my fingers and hope he gets showered with seasonal clothes for his birthday every spring (the same holds true for Christmas), spend my spring and summer hunting down garage sales or hitting up second-hand stores and sorting through piles of clothes only to come away with a few good pieces in the right size, or go shopping and buy brand-new. Whatever he starts out with, it needs to be in new condition so it makes it through him, my second son and hopefully my youngest. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Since he didn't get any clothes for his birthday this year, and I don't have endless time to hunt for garage sales or through the racks at second-hand stores for the like-new items, that left me with the "shopping and buying brand-new" option.</span></span></div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">My mistake: trying to do it with my two youngest along. </span></span></div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">I spent three hours "shopping" this morning. "Shopping" is a figure of speech. I spent two and a half hours trying to keep two squirming boys in a cart or stroller, dolling out snacks so they would sit still, helping both take drinks from their water bottles every five minutes (at which time I repeatedly kicked myself for forgetting their kid-friendly cups), trying to make each of them keep their hands to themselves and making two sprints to the restrooms (yeah - all those drinks had to go somewhere). The missing half-hour? Twenty-five minutes of it was spent at the kiddie play-land in the mall, letting them run off their pent-up energy. The last 5 minutes was how much time it took me to grab three pairs of pajamas, five pairs of shorts, five shirts and two bags of socks off the shelves in one store and make a dash for the cash register.</span></span></div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">I hope it all fits him and doesn't clash too badly. </span> </span></div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
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</span></div>Leanne K.http://www.blogger.com/profile/11449651517009611073noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3457232519514614553.post-24279837613905328862010-05-05T14:16:00.001-05:002010-05-25T13:05:59.270-05:00As the wind blows, so do my children grow<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="UIStory_Message"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Last night, my youngest son was having a difficult time settling down for bed. The wind outside was fierce, whipping the tree limbs so they knocked against each other and rattling the window panes. To help him calm down, I sat on the bed and rocked him. He curled up in my lap and asked me to sing him a lullaby. Every time I came to the end of the song, he asked me to repeat it, over and over and over again.</span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="UIStory_Message"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">After about 30 minutes, my poor voice was going hoarse and my back ached from rocking a 2-year-old without any support from an actual chair. I really didn't want to put him down though. He's growing up so fast and so rarely wants to be rocked and sung to anymore. His soft little face was pressed into my neck and his still-chubby arms were locked around my shoulders. </span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="UIStory_Message"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">But it was bed time and my arms were giving out and my back was starting to seriously protest. As I gave him his final hugs and kisses and rocked him one last time, he had one more request for me, "Mommy, you turn the wind off?" </span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="UIStory_Message"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Oh, if only I had the power to make the wind quiet when it was time for my children to sleep, and to keep my children from growing up so fast every day they are awake. </span> </span></span><br />
<h3 class="UIIntentionalStory_Message" data-ft="{"type":"msg"}" style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span class="UIStory_Message"><br />
</span></span></h3>Leanne K.http://www.blogger.com/profile/11449651517009611073noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3457232519514614553.post-88173373024557822792010-05-02T16:57:00.000-05:002010-05-02T16:57:45.827-05:00The signs of aging from a child's perspective<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-size: small;">My husband's parents came for a visit this weekend. At the dinner table with them, my 4-year-old son piped up, "Grandpa, are you going to die soon?" While Grandpa sat in stunned silence, I answered the question for him, "No, of course not! Why do you think that?" Connor's answer: "Because he has white hair."</span>Leanne K.http://www.blogger.com/profile/11449651517009611073noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3457232519514614553.post-12469184519917859102010-04-26T12:10:00.001-05:002010-04-26T12:14:02.737-05:00A blue smurf and seven dwarfs<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">It's a Monday morning, and I'm recovering from one of the busiest weekends I've had in recent memory. In the last three days, I've thrown a birthday party for my oldest son involving seven other rambunctious boys, helped with a very successful garage sale two hours south and attended a birthday party 20 minutes north. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">It all started last Friday. It was my oldest son's 7th birthday, and he wanted to have a "friend" party this year, instead of our traditional family dinner. Since he had been inviting his friends since before Christmas, I thought we would try to oblige him.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">My husband came home from work at noon on Friday to help prepare for the party. Due to rain, we had to turn our basement into a mini-carnival before 5 p.m. We put our two younger sons down for naps and got started. Two hours later our youngest son started crying. I sent my husband up to check on him.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">The next thing I heard was, "Eli! You are in SO much trouble!!!" I called up asking if there was a problem. My husband's reply, "Oh, there's a problem all right. Come see what YOUR son did!"</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">I bounded up the stairs and joined my husband in the doorway to our son's room, frozen in stupefied shock. Our 2-year-old son was blue, from his face, mouth and teeth to the very bottoms of his feet. He wasn't the only thing. His brown dresser had blue drawer fronts, his once white piggy bank had blue tattoos, and the bed rails and foot-board no longer matched the brown head-board. The light blue walls were sporting dark blue squiggles, the windows sparkled with blue "stained glass," the white window sill had a decidedly blue tint and the yellow curtains had blue stripes. His once blue and white bedding was now more blue than white, and his brown teddy bears had blue feet.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">He had found a marker I didn't know was in his room. It was not a kid-friendly washable one. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">To complete his artistic installation, he covered the floor under his bed and dresser in colorful chocolate rocks that had been in his Easter bag on top of his dresser. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">We didn't know whether to laugh, cry or shout at him. We started out shouting and ended up laughing about it, two days later: after we gave him a bath that turned the tub and water blue and I had scrubbed every hard surface in his room. The bedding was washed yesterday, but the curtains are still in place with their blue stripes. I'm not sure when I'll have time to tackle them. Until then, they serve as a reminder that no matter how busy my husband and I are, we should always remember to take the time to check up on our children, even during nap time.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">After that afternoon adventure, the party eventually pulled itself together, and my husband and I barely survived an energetic group of 7-year-old boys tearing up our house. After an hour and a half of chaos, we sent all the boys out in the drizzle to run off their sugar-highs by playing soccer with my husband. They went home damp and a little muddy, but wearing tired smiles on their faces. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Like I said, it's Monday morning, and I'm still recovering. And the bottoms of my son's feet are still blue.</span></span><br />
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</span></span>Leanne K.http://www.blogger.com/profile/11449651517009611073noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3457232519514614553.post-26969227933864395182010-03-15T09:59:00.000-05:002010-03-15T09:59:41.699-05:00When grace loses face<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Sometimes I have a hard time dealing with frustration gracefully. Frustration has become a pretty constant factor in my life with three rambunctious boys who operate at a different speed than my own. I'm still learning how </span><span style="font-size: small;">to get a better handle on handling disappointment.</span><span style="font-size: small;"> Today, for instance, was one of those days that my frustration cup overfloweth. </span></div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">It's spring break. Winter's icy chill is finally thawing around here. The snow is gone, but the early hours are still cold enough to see your breath. My three sons wanted to take a walk this morning. It took 20 minutes to get socks, shoes and winter gear on. It took another five minutes to get my oldest into his protective bike armor and fish the push cart out of the depths of the garage for my 4-year-old. By the time I had my toddler in the stroller and the other two ready to shove off, everyone was tired of waiting on everyone else. Cabin fever had us all jittery. With high spirits and too much energy, we started off. </span></div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">One minute later and five steps past the neighbor's house two things happened simultaneously: The pedal on my son's bike broke, and my middle son ran his cart into the back of my foot. As his cart lurched to a halt, he went skidding across the pavement on his knees. All pandemonium broke loose. My oldest wanted me to fix the broken pedal while my 4-year-old woke the neighborhood up with his screams. </span></div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">At this point I could have told my biker child to wait while I comforted my middle son with hugs and kisses until the tears stopped. Then I could have gone back to the garage and spent 10 minutes hunting through the mess to find the right tool to fix the bike before attempting the walk again.</span></div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">I didn't do that. Instead, I ordered everyone to turn around and go home, in a not-so-nice voice.</span></div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-size: small;">My oldest wheeled his bike back to the garage while I tried to turn the stroller around and gather up my screaming 4-year-old and the offending cart. On our 1-minute-and-five-step-walk back, I was wishing I could duplicate myself. Sometimes the parent-to-child ratio feels overwhelmingly unbalanced in our family. That's when my grace loses face, and I start muttering to myself. It's on those days that I wish parents got do-overs.</span>Leanne K.http://www.blogger.com/profile/11449651517009611073noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3457232519514614553.post-15655278634994680312010-03-07T20:01:00.001-06:002010-03-07T20:02:54.455-06:00Third time's a potty-training charm<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Just thinking about potty training makes me shudder. I just finished training my 4-year-old. Is he truly potty trained if he still has the occasional accident? Granted, the doctor says the accidents aren't his fault. His colon doesn't work properly. It's all about getting, and keeping, him regular in order to have properly functioning potty breaks. If his digestive system gets the least bit out of whack, we have come to expect a mess. It was a 2-year process just to get him this far.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">The problems in training my middle son have delayed the onset of potty training my youngest, who is now 2. Today I finally decided we would begin the tedious process. He's all about becoming a "big boy" like his older brothers. Since he isn't quite big enough to use the grown-up toilet yet, we picked out a green frog potty together at the store. He sat on it for the first time tonight, right before his bath. Only a few minutes later he was chirping, "I go potty! Look!" He promptly stood up, bent at the waist and flashed his bare tush at me. With his clean bum a contradiction to his proclamation, I took a peek into the potty bowl. Lo and behold - there was pee in the potty! My smart little boy is getting off to a great start! I only hope it takes a lot less than 2 years to get my final child potty trained.</span></span>Leanne K.http://www.blogger.com/profile/11449651517009611073noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3457232519514614553.post-47102879267283198902010-02-24T09:58:00.001-06:002010-02-27T19:37:37.897-06:00Craft time<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">It's been craft time at our house for the last few days. Usually I have the motivation to do, on average, one craft a week with my boys. Creative activities take time to organize, make a lot of mess and generally cause a lot of chaos in the creation process. Many days I'm not up to it. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">A new Web site I found, www.simplemessyfun.com, has ramped </span></span><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">up </span></span><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">my motivation to one project a day for the last four days. The site takes the hassle out of organizing craft time for me. It is written by </span></span><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Amy Friedel, </span></span><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">another stay-at-home mom who has children of similar ages to my own. She has an early education degree, several years of teaching under her belt and an extensive knowledge of other online sites and blogs that adds to her inspiration. She has a keen eye for a good deal - </span></span><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">anything that needs to be bought is usually inexpensive and easy to find in stores, and a</span></span><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"> lot of her ideas just require items that can be found around the house. All-in-all, a winning combination for me.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">This week, we turned old crayons into new, studied the alphabet and used our new crayons with alphabet coloring pages, and practiced some motor skills making fluffy little bunnies. The kids have been having a great time.</span></span><br />
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<b><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Crayons:</span></span></b><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTV6kQCONMR-Sa62If7F9f0q22zjHcXgqryy47gNH5hd8cZzuronPXhgR7bTexbHk3WZvr6Gi7F4ob0wiy-2dgh8fNfC0OxjVY8tHyrgMey_1_Ku9bHJrlpay98eXhC-DZ-xfXPotkavw/s1600-h/IMG_6668.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTV6kQCONMR-Sa62If7F9f0q22zjHcXgqryy47gNH5hd8cZzuronPXhgR7bTexbHk3WZvr6Gi7F4ob0wiy-2dgh8fNfC0OxjVY8tHyrgMey_1_Ku9bHJrlpay98eXhC-DZ-xfXPotkavw/s320/IMG_6668.jpg" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1CO76HSQrVyW1EiHvboBqkE6cW9kwh7QUsDIoofmW3I5rOKRExTRyRxLV5ZIqYnnJ_uYTO_tXBmYm0HpWOXkuVIDthjLxIvCZz1j_EiCNrhfzuYZM2As0b6iQTHzFG0N79sa7DAx5AKc/s1600-h/IMG_6664.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1CO76HSQrVyW1EiHvboBqkE6cW9kwh7QUsDIoofmW3I5rOKRExTRyRxLV5ZIqYnnJ_uYTO_tXBmYm0HpWOXkuVIDthjLxIvCZz1j_EiCNrhfzuYZM2As0b6iQTHzFG0N79sa7DAx5AKc/s320/IMG_6664.jpg" /></a> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">First we had to peel the crayons.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6b6kPZiDwA3GqEpfoiYiAykTTAK3Nd2kx7gxrk5QwlJT7-Gaj_GnMvLnKG_3QHHc-UEOVNQH_zh8p33XilWO3PiRkadzmvDpobEg28yJO9plLuRUPnmm2zZgipVEZrBF924jbX1eu6x4/s1600-h/IMG_6671.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6b6kPZiDwA3GqEpfoiYiAykTTAK3Nd2kx7gxrk5QwlJT7-Gaj_GnMvLnKG_3QHHc-UEOVNQH_zh8p33XilWO3PiRkadzmvDpobEg28yJO9plLuRUPnmm2zZgipVEZrBF924jbX1eu6x4/s320/IMG_6671.jpg" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheVoNZgmarGDs685VJieEgBOrqdEWdOG1I4VE-TX_lCGhF2fx4iZ5v-xJBFyreaDUjPQ96k_WiayTtEJfSHFv09zQ9Vig_JzTgJ56cmMHXEEUKV-vGqnCiJXZ8YhL1AN_uLQzZQWl1Odc/s1600-h/IMG_6673.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheVoNZgmarGDs685VJieEgBOrqdEWdOG1I4VE-TX_lCGhF2fx4iZ5v-xJBFyreaDUjPQ96k_WiayTtEJfSHFv09zQ9Vig_JzTgJ56cmMHXEEUKV-vGqnCiJXZ8YhL1AN_uLQzZQWl1Odc/s320/IMG_6673.jpg" /></a><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Then we broke them in bits, separated the colors and put them in metal cans. We melted them in the oven at 250 F for 15-20 minutes. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeb9Q8_IXPfD557QDQBNws5Ljtvhza8Trhpza8xOQefkIqWJzoT-deYMR72zRUgEN_eXgpNCz7Oa7hTqvlAO8skq9iLsU3_-lrHc9Y_6mIp-ujzXtjjTUFbqBbjjlPq5tb77TFtvAWvZE/s1600-h/IMG_6678.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeb9Q8_IXPfD557QDQBNws5Ljtvhza8Trhpza8xOQefkIqWJzoT-deYMR72zRUgEN_eXgpNCz7Oa7hTqvlAO8skq9iLsU3_-lrHc9Y_6mIp-ujzXtjjTUFbqBbjjlPq5tb77TFtvAWvZE/s320/IMG_6678.jpg" /></a> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">We poured one color at a time into the molds. We let each layer set up a bit before adding the next. I only pulled one can out of the oven at a time, so every color stayed fluid until ready to use.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> </div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhQ90heb0XlHQny8JteD_76YSJCpmXKI1Ww5MXr4lsPgzCGlL0Bkxq7yTma2oS5mB2vdumm7_e8TXjcDflJRHOteuyNzAXQMI5_TT9DLsdlouda-Dpko2-ookbePKdA2Ec18ZDdscLXhg/s1600-h/IMG_6680.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhQ90heb0XlHQny8JteD_76YSJCpmXKI1Ww5MXr4lsPgzCGlL0Bkxq7yTma2oS5mB2vdumm7_e8TXjcDflJRHOteuyNzAXQMI5_TT9DLsdlouda-Dpko2-ookbePKdA2Ec18ZDdscLXhg/s320/IMG_6680.jpg" /></a><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">After letting them cool and harden at room temperature, this was the result. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><b>Little Bunny Foo Foo:</b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitirZZZ3QOgs6-EFocFzRj1bYlfB9mIGK_5pBsgwIiOEq3zGZWiiAZrunpx3gGwOO8jTvEpMd7iuWOZRKv9EWt4PoyGlF8_gF788m-GqGaNtI58fdUenCwFf8yFdAHOzIAigg0inFizjo/s1600-h/IMG_6692.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitirZZZ3QOgs6-EFocFzRj1bYlfB9mIGK_5pBsgwIiOEq3zGZWiiAZrunpx3gGwOO8jTvEpMd7iuWOZRKv9EWt4PoyGlF8_gF788m-GqGaNtI58fdUenCwFf8yFdAHOzIAigg0inFizjo/s320/IMG_6692.jpg" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">I printed the bunny pattern I got off the link from www.simplemessyfun.com.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1VNthcT3IJMhVJ2qfZL0aqAy7NKHDKQcEm9Nsk-vQH13b-8z0fZuzOy8mEJx2qU84HJha3ckiWkFW9sEYgM6SY2u4PBXpHpVv_e-2z9KS1-Je7JorJEkJ1Ow1PpJoz9UYPqGx9cZU6Ys/s1600-h/IMG_6708.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1VNthcT3IJMhVJ2qfZL0aqAy7NKHDKQcEm9Nsk-vQH13b-8z0fZuzOy8mEJx2qU84HJha3ckiWkFW9sEYgM6SY2u4PBXpHpVv_e-2z9KS1-Je7JorJEkJ1Ow1PpJoz9UYPqGx9cZU6Ys/s320/IMG_6708.jpg" /></a> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">The boys practiced their motor skills by trying to cut out the bunny. I had to help a little to make sure all bunny appendages stayed in tact! </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaFAjJtL25bvylQzCzM1YVAJIBciWnJxg_BHfts8zS02EzI0F7S5RiiwM-23rMLD7CCuOGTC2pItcx5Wol4z799MCdqstAyRR2zdGmkusj1rdNHrdoqVKkb-sh_twI56XJE_jmLI409nU/s1600-h/IMG_6707.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaFAjJtL25bvylQzCzM1YVAJIBciWnJxg_BHfts8zS02EzI0F7S5RiiwM-23rMLD7CCuOGTC2pItcx5Wol4z799MCdqstAyRR2zdGmkusj1rdNHrdoqVKkb-sh_twI56XJE_jmLI409nU/s320/IMG_6707.jpg" /></a><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">They colored the bunnies using their new crayons, then used glue to affix the cotton balls.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJbSXPJX-SXKJzJ8HHsElO0flk18lvkXKQduTNFHf69MdrWFN-tp30x1PlYkyVoL85GPfhxGxjsC_tnW4fxOLB6QAKMnWGs6xH-76oNeDy__kGYdJQn99jnrabNWMEXVrXc5PUJlqjVf0/s1600-h/IMG_6715.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJbSXPJX-SXKJzJ8HHsElO0flk18lvkXKQduTNFHf69MdrWFN-tp30x1PlYkyVoL85GPfhxGxjsC_tnW4fxOLB6QAKMnWGs6xH-76oNeDy__kGYdJQn99jnrabNWMEXVrXc5PUJlqjVf0/s320/IMG_6715.jpg" /></a> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">End result: Little Bunny Foo Foo (upside-down)! </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
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</span></span></div>Leanne K.http://www.blogger.com/profile/11449651517009611073noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3457232519514614553.post-14892423041425721382010-02-13T07:59:00.006-06:002010-03-03T22:09:07.760-06:00If Earth went up and Heaven came down<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Sometimes I wonder how much of what I teach my children is actually sinking in. My two oldest sons have a fascination with Heaven, God and Santa Claus. I've had many conversations with them explaining the difference between God and Santa Claus and where Heaven is. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;">I'm not quite ready to disillusion them with the truth about Santa Claus. As far as they know, Santa Claus is at the North Pole. Thanks to "The Polar Express," they know the North Pole is at the top of Earth. They think they can take a train to get there.</span><span style="font-size: small;"> </span></div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><br />
<span style="font-size: small;">Seeing a physical representation of Santa at the mall has given them a tangible reference for the commercialized symbol of Christmas. Their little minds are searching for the same kind of reference for God.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;">They understand God is in Heaven. Trying to explain where Heaven is and how to get there, is a lot more difficult. My best answer to date is that Heaven is above the stars in the sky, and people go there when they die.</span><span style="font-size: small;"> We've had brief, lighthearted discussions about how people get to Heaven and what they'll see when they get there. I'm trying to instill in them the idea that death isn't something to fear. It's just the journey that has to be made to get to the wonderful place where God resides.</span><span style="font-size: small;"> They seem to be satisfied with that.</span><span style="font-size: small;"> </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;">Recently, God came up in conversation with my middle son. This time, however, the context took me by surprise. My 4-year-old asked me if he could die that day. Trying to hide my surprise at such an odd question, I told him no, he has a lot of living to do yet. Then I asked him why did he want to die? He replied, "I want to give God a hug. I so love Him, Mom."</span><span style="font-size: small;"> </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;">After I reassured him that God loves him too, my little boy asked me if Santa was at home at the top of Earth right now, and if Earth went up and Heaven came down, would God and Santa meet? If that happened, could we meet God at the North Pole with Santa? He was trying his best to find another way to give God a hug.</span></div><h3 class="GenericStory_Message" data-ft="{"type":"msg"}" style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></h3>Leanne K.http://www.blogger.com/profile/11449651517009611073noreply@blogger.com0