God's Master Plan is Better Than Our Best Plan A

My husband, whom I have lovingly named Mr. Fix-It, and I had a Plan. Plan A was a lesson in futility.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

"The Beast"

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.

The old cabinets as Mr. Fix-It dismantles them. 

See how those ones on the top are hanging open? 

That's what they all did. All the time.

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.

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.

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.

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.

Our dream kitchen. We planned every square inch. 

The best part about it? 

Every inch is functional. 

Every appliance works, including all four stove burners.

I still catch myself only using one sometimes as I try to make dinner.

Some habits are hard to break.

My fall project is finished! Introducing the Lil' Fishstick Kit

One 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. 

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.

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.

So I put my thoughts on paper and came up with my own kit.

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:

http://www.coloringcastle.com/fish_coloring_pages.html
http://www.firstpalette.com/tool_box/printables/coralreeffishes.html

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 inside 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.

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.

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.

I call it the "Lil' Fishstick Kit"

 The fishing pole, trout creel and six colorful felt fish.

How the pole looks when it is folded up.

The pole and fish fit neatly into the creel - a toy with its own storage system!

Home sweet home

It'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.

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.

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.

Merry 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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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!

Questions don't get easier to answer as children get older, the questions just get harder

Lately, 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!

I've begun to call them my "Mom-Question-Of-The-Day," because I get at least one, sometimes more, every day.

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.

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.

These questions run along the lines of:
1. "Mom, how and why does it rain when the sun is still shining?" ~ from my oldest and middle children
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
3. "Mom, how do you make mud?" ~ from my 4-year-old. I thought to myself, "Finally! One I can answer easily!"

It was followed up a few hours later by:
4. "Mom, how do babies grow in mommies' tummies?" ~ from my 4-year-old, followed by,
5. "Mom, what would happen to me if I wasn't born?" ~ from my 7-year-old

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!

Summer flew by in the blink of an eye

Where has the summer gone? I haven't been able to keep up with anything, including my blog.

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.

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!

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.

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.

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.

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.

Family tradition becomes treasured gift as time flies by

Growing 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.

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