Cluck and Tweet

Sometimes, it's serious.

I'm going to offer up a disclaimer here: this in not going to be funny. In fact, I will admit that I have been shedding tears all night on and off, and it is in that state of mind that I'm writing this post. Ok. You've been warned. I was almost late to pick Noah up today. The sunshine and warm morning put us behind schedule with naps and lunches and chores, so when my husband told me what time it was, I bolted out the door and into the minivan. The door shut. The seatbelt clicked. My mind was on auto-pilot, ready to tear out of the driveway-- like I do so many times when I'm late-- without looking or thinking or doing anything but hitting the gas pedal as soon as I geared into reverse. And then, as I turned the key I heard a little boy's voice. My little boy's voice. "Hello?" I didn't have to ask where Max was. I shut off the ignition and stepped back out of the car. A red and yellow and blue kite tail was floating off the driveway with the breeze. I followed it behind my rear wheel. Where my four year old sat, happily playing. It wasn't until I turned the corner out of my subdivision that I started to shake and sweat. My eyes blurred with almost tears. Almost. A close call. A "what if." These things always catch us as parents, make us hold our breaths and thank God for the alternative scenerio. For me, however, these moments of awareness, the sudden insight into the fragility of life, fade all too quickly. Soon, I'm back to rushing around. Crossing off items on my to-do list. Getting caught in the net of housework or exhaustion or simply the daily stuff of life. But today was not an ordinary day. Today I stumbled across this blog, one that tells the most heartbreaking story of loss. There is not a pithy remark or a way to explain the death of a child. A toddler. A little girl with huge blue eyes and a smile so infectious that it radiates to complete strangers-- like me-- through a computer screen. Maddie, who had been a preemie and championed through her initial health struggles, came down with what appears to be RSV. And following her mom's twitter accounts, there is this moment that goes from talk of hospital food to raw fear...and then, nothing. When my daughter was born she had severe jaundice and was hooked to a bilirubin light for 14 days. One week laker, she developed a cough. Two days after that, she made no noise when she cried and I rushed her over to the doctor's office. Within an hour, we were in the hospital and my baby girl was hooked up to a million wires. She had an IV coming out of her head. She had a severe case of RSV. And she just laid there. Not moving. Not doing anything. I've never shown this picture before. I cry even now, though I know the story ends happily and that today my girl looks more like this: When I took that first picture of Elizabeth, I did so because I was afraid she was not going to get better. Her lungs were full. She was so small. The child life specialist was somber and did things like call to check on us even after she'd left for the night. No one was giving me the phrases I wanted to hear, like "she'll be fine." Sitting in the hospital room in the middle of the night, holding but not rocking (I wasn't allowed) my sweet girl, I remember staring out the black window. Snow was falling, lit by the hospital parking lot. I would follow one flake at a time from the top of the window until it had drifted out of sight. I promised myself that if she got better, if we made it through this, I would never, ever take a single second for granted. Not one second. It is the same thought every parent would have in that moment. Five days later, I took another picture of Elizabeth. And another on day six And I've taken thousands of others since that afternoon, when I finally heard the pediatric hospitalist say "she is going to be fine." There is a part of me that is aware of how her sickness, and that "what if" changed me as her mother. I have left her side so rarely. I have held my breath at every cough sniffle. But I haven't been able to hold on to that promise. Earlier today, I was so frustrated and annoyed and ready for it to be 5:30 so my husband would be home and I could share a beer and rant on the litany of issues my morning kicked forth. Those little things like Lizzie dumping an entire box of cereal while I unloaded the dishes and refusing to take a nap when I needed to clean the house, things that added up to me looking into her big blue eyes and saying with disgust, "just go to sleep. Now. I've had it." We all have those days and times when the task of mothering is just, well, overwhelmingly hard. And I'd be lying if I didn't say there weren't moments when all of my happy thoughts were directed at the minute I could escape to somewhere (anywhere) for twenty minutes without. any. children. But seriously. How insane. When I read the raw and real and horrifying loss of Heather and Mike, I felt so, I don't know, sick? I have three healthy children. Three. They had one beautiful daughter. A daughter who went into the hospital with oxygen levels hovering between 65-75 percent. My Lizzie was at 70-percent when she was admitted. It feels surreal and wrong to compare the two, because my little girl is sleeping in my bed as I type. She's right here, and today reminded me just how huge of a gift that is. They are all right here. I know psychologically we mamas could not function if we went through life assuming anything other than the fact that our children will remain healthy. I understand that it is human nature to get frustrated, to forget to be grateful, to get caught up instead of caught in the moment. But after watching the slideshow of that little Maddie posted on Heather's blog, after hearing my Max's small voice echo out from behind the car, after tucking Elizabeth into bed and listening to Noah's tales from soccer practice, I feel like I have an obligation-- no, that sounds forced-- that I have the privilege of choosing gratitude over any other emotion at any given time. Any of us who have children are so very blessed. While we can joke about the trials and tribulations of motherhood, while we can wink about counting the minutes until bedtime and the peace and quiet it brings, we also better be sure we check ourselves-- that we pause a thousand or a million times every day to let thankfulness wash over us. I don't like the idea of another person's loss serving as a lesson for me, but that is, in some ways, what today has been about in this house. I keep looking at these three beautiful beings and finding myself saying "thank you. thank you. thank you." Just now, Lizzie began to whimper. When she starts sleeping restlessly this early, I know I am in for a long night. And the only thing I can do is feel so humbled. So blessed. So glad that she is here to wake me. I think I wrote this so I could reinstitute my promise. Maybe I'll break it a hundred times. Probably more. But I want to record it all the same. I want to try with all that I am to never take a single, solitary second with my children for granted. I want to celebrate each moment of each day. Because I am lucky to have them. And because as a mom, I should never, ever forgot those who would give everything they have for such a luxury. If you would like to make a donation to March of Dimes in honor of sweet Maddie, a page has been set up in her honor here.

Sink. Sank. Sunk.

I have 5 sinks in the house, 2 in the studio, and not one is what I have dreamed about when I think about sinks. Admittedly, I don't think about sinks all that much, but when I run across them in Home Depot or Lowe's or at someone's house that's much nicer than mine, I covet a cool sink.   Perhaps it all stems back to being raised by a compulsive hand washer, but I want sink like this: This sink looks completely impractical and I'm not even sure how it works, but desire isn't a strong enough word for how I feel about it.  This is like 10th Commandment covet.  And it's only $1790, so it's a bargain, too!  And on closer inspection it looks like it could double as a urinal.  Hmmm. This is a sink that I'm not really sure I like, but it's $7000+.    $7000 for a sink seems like a bit much, but $7000 PLUS?   I'm trying to wrap my head around that one.  Plus what?  Your first born?  I love, love, love glass.   So it only makes sense that I would love a sink that looks like this: or this: and who couldn't love this: This, as you can probably tell, is not a sink, it is a faucet.  A totally awesome and impractical faucet.  Why does "awesome" often pair itself with "impractial?"  This is a stunning design, but I just have to ask, Who actually uses these sinks?  I'd be flooding my house everytime I wash my hands (and remember, that's often).  And how do you clean a wood sink?  Sandpaper?  For some reason a kitchen sink doesn't have the same design style that a bathroom sink does (what's up with that?) but I've found some I like:  Again, I've found a sink that leaves me confused.  How many things can you drain in one sink?  And isn't that what a colander is for?  But I like it. This is a sink I can actually see myself using: If I had to. Don't ever fall for this one: The faucet will end up in the middle and water will be all over yourself and the floor.  Don't say I didn't warn you.  I have experience with this. If money is no object:  I think this one is $11,885.  Could I feed a small village in Africa with that money?  Here's where I get preachy.  Because I've been thinking about the cost of this sink all night.  When I wasn't sleeping.  And I'd like to think that if I had $11,885 I wouldn't spend it so frivolously, that I'd spend it on a village in Africa.  And then I think, hey, I've got running water!  I've got Lake Michigan out my front door, and many, many people in this world don't even have running water.  Every day they walk miles just to get water to drink.  And it magically comes out of my faucet.  Granted it falls into my ugly, hard-water-stained stainless-steel sink, but it's water.  And then I remind myself to be thankful for what I've got.  Even this: Or...I could send $10,000 to the African village and spend $1,885 on a new kitchen sink.

cardboard

We have a thing with cardboard in our house. As in, we never can just recycle it.  No, no, that would be so boring when there are so. many. uses. for it.  Here's a few of our recent favorite cardboard creations: The fooseball table. Take one box, about the size a pair of boots would come in and paint the inside to resemble a fooseball field.  Or, just smudge the white lines into the green paint if you absolutely cannot wait until the "field" is dry to keep going.  Cut goalie holes in each end.  If we had any fruits, like stawberries, in season right now, I think I would have used picking containers to serve as goalie nets. But we don't. So I didn't. Next, tape two wooden skewers together. Repeat three more times.  Now poke the skewers in an even row through the box.   Now comes the part where we add the wine corks, because apparently most of the craft projects we do around here involve wine corks. But I'm not a big drinker.  I swear.  As long as the "no crossing counts" rule does not apply here. Swig, swig.  Anyway, take eight wine corks and stick them on each end of each skewer.   All that's left to add  are the players. We used clothespins, which can be decorated however you'd like and then hung on the skewers. Drop in a bouncy ball, or whatever other type of ball you have handy, and play! And then there's this... Sir Lancelot has nothing on Sir Maxelot. If there is one thing to know about our middle child, Max, it is that he loves to dress up. The costume box is Max's room is overflowing with no less than nine capes, a train conductor get-up, a ninja suit, the remaining pieces of his big brother's old Halloween outfits, a frog head, lab coat, two football, one soccer, and a hockey uniform, a couple of crowns and cloaks, viking gear and several varieties of swords, as well as a slew of random accessories.  It is no strange sight to see Max in the grocery store looking like this: or eating lunch as this: or running through the yard like this: He's been known to where a ski helmet and goggles, as well as a full dragon suit, and a Mexican wrestler to church on any given Sunday.   He went through a phase where he wore a fireman's helmet and underwear on the outside of his pants.  What can I say?  He's got personality. A lot of personality. What does this have to do with cardboard, you ask? *Or don't ask, because the image of the under-roos outside the pants pretty much stopped you cold... It's this: My favorite cardboard creation of Max's: The knight outfit.   We used old pizza boxes (that we got from neighbors, of course, because I certainly don't get take out pizza for my children so often that the pizza dude knows my name, order, and favorite color) to cut out the shield, which we then hot glued on an empty orange juice carton (the kind with a handle).  The mask was cut from an old pizza box too, and then we added a strip of elastic (just tied on each side) to adjust it to Max's insanely large lovely head. We used an old paper grocery bag as his armor suit and, um, another pizza box for the sword.  I set out a bunch of paints and we painted the whole get up together. It was a blast, because I knew how very excited Max would be when he could look like this: While I would never, ever pay for something like this (and pay, like $80 no less!) I will say cardboard boxes in every shape and size provide hours of good times in our house. We may not get as fancy as this or this But we do love us some creative pre-recycle crafting. The trick, of course, is parting ways with said creations. Especially ones that take up too much space and seem to be taking up residence on my mantel.   What kinds of fun projects have you done with cardboard? I ask, of course, because my husband really, really, really wants me to make and then pack rat more stuff. --K

Love and Marriage

It’s a wedding weekend for the two lovely sets of eyeballs you see above.  We’re off to make sure there isn’t still ink on their foreheads.  Because that would be awkward.  And not really worth it.

Culture...We Got It

We live in Northern Michigan.  We live an hour-and-a-half from the nearest mall.  If you don’t have to stop for gas.  This is a cultural event in our area:

So when we decided to take a trip to Grandma’s we also decided to milk it for all it was worth and cram in as much culture as possible.  So we went here:

“Here”  is the  Frederik Meijer Gardens & Sculpture Park  in Grand Rapids, Michigan.  We kind of had to go since we’re good friends with Frederik and Lena:

The horse, an homage to Leonardo da Vinci,  is mammoth:

and quite awe-inspiring and also quite male, which many people seem compelled to comment on (”That horse is no gelding, heh, heh”), including my 10-year-old:

We’re very mature.

But the sculptures are in every style, shape, and size, so there’s something for everyone.  Like this for the horse-lover:

 This is a  Deborah Butterfield   horse made from bronze.  No matter how close you get to it, it still looks like driftwood.

Or the music lover:

Aria, by Alexander Liberman.  I can completely understand why it’s called Aria.  Which I like, because it makes me feel smart.

Or if you’re feeling zen:

or Herculean:

there’s this sculpture,  Disk in the Form of a Desert Rose , by Arnoldo Pomodoro.  We got our money’s worth from that one.

This is my favorite:

Julia, by   Keith Haring. 

There’s also a children’s garden which, among other things, will give you strange ailments like “big hand disease:”

 a condition that makes it very difficult to pick your nose, unless this is coming out of it:

which would mean that you have another problem entirely.

But, of course, these things may only happen if you’re seeking out culture with our family.  We like our art to be interactive.

This time of year, March 1 through April 30, the Frederik Meijer Gardens hosts the largest temporary tropical butterfly exhibit in the nation. 

Housed in a tropical conservatory, thousands of butterflies circle over and around you, sometimes landing on your head.  It’s worth wrestling the three hundred toddlers in order to view the diversity of the butterflies and behold the tropical flowers.  Especially in Michigan.  In March.

And Grandma is such a trooper that she’d put many 20-year-olds to shame.  I had such a great time that I never once had to be like this:

 (Mad Mom, Tom Otterness)

Because that is so not pretty. 

I’ve only touched on the very basics of what is available at the Frederik Meijer Gardens.  To find out more, click on the link above.   It’s an affordable and fun way to get your daily dose of culture.

Happy Earth Day!

In honor of this glorious planet of ours, I’ll be bundling up the wee ones and heading outside for our daily dose of nature. Despite the fact that it is snowing. And I’ve packed away all the winter clothes.  And they will whine for the entire time (or at least the first five minutes, and then they will be numb to the cold and get lost in that world of play I can only glimpse into).

But still.  There is something so simple about just getting outdoors and walking, breathing, being that reconnects us with the natural world.  And in turn, I hope that will reconnect a certain somewhat sullen 10 year old with his desire to take the compost out every night.

Regardless, we’ll go out. Because we are blessed to live in a place where this is just outside our back door.  

 

For lots of great ideas for getting outside with little ones, click here.

Not yo' cheese

(This is not my house...Sigh)

When Sam and I were building our house I had the fleeting and naive notion that I had an eye for design.  After all, I have artwork on the walls that has been painted by people other than my children (although I have my share of that, too), and I have my own studio which automatically makes a person "funky," right?  The answer would be no. Nothing will point out a couple's differences as much as building a house together, and although Sam and I agreed more often than not, the use of color was not one of those times.  Sam grew up in a house where the walls were white.  He did concede to using off-white.  It's not surprising then that we might not agree on fireplaces.  Sam's idea of the perfect fireplace was something similar to this  manly in a "country hunting lodge" kind of way.  My taste tended toward the more feminine:  which is the style of fireplace we chose to go with, mainly because it was affordable.  And off-white. Here's where it gets fuzzy. All I can think is that we must have been bored one day and decided to mix things up and PAINT THE FIREPLACE.  Because that's a great thing to do when you're bored.  Find the central point of your whole, entire house and paint it.  I had some sort of Tuscan idea in the back of my head. with golden yellows that would reflect the natural light coming in the windows and make us feel all Italian-y and sophisticated.  It was a lot to expect from paint, but we were hopeful and went to the paint store and picked up many, many paint samples.  It's amazing how many yellows there are:  

  Citron, Sunshine, Lemon, Yellow Highlighter, Baby Chick.   Online tools for color selection are more fun than any paint store, and have the potential for wasting more hours in a day than Facebook.  Don't go here  if you have something that you need to get done today.    Or here if you have any latent fantasies about interior design and you have something that you need to get done today.    We didn't have so many dandy tools available to us at the time, so we brought home myriad paint chips and chose...Nacho Cheese.

Usually paint doesn't look the same when applied, but this paint was true to its name and once applied to the fireplace actually looked like nacho cheese. We we not amused and I went immediately to Home Depot to buy Venetian plaster which is still sitting in our basement as I type. Twelve years later I'm quite fond of our nacho cheese fireplace. The cheese stands alone. --A

Cute Little Hedgehog Eating a Carrot

Simple Salmon: An Ode

I am a big fan of salmon, basically because it is so darn good for you, and so darn easy to cook.  Easy is exactly what this recipe is all about-- the kind of easy that I save to cook on nights that I really, really, really don't feel like putting anything in the oven at all. Like tonight, when my husband and eldest rolled in from a weekend ski getaway, while our youngest two, well, just seemed to roll all over the house, and I was trying to pack for vacation, and....wah wah wah.  Back to the fish. Pick up a nice salmon filet at your friendly neighborhood fish market.  Start by cooking  rice-- I like brown with some pilaf thrown in--  just follow the instructions for whatever kind of grain suites your fancy. For some reason, touching raw fish does not freak me out like touching raw chicken does. That being said, I do prepare this right on the broiler pan, just because.  Lop four big slices o' butter on top.  I didn't say this was the healthiest way to prepare salmon, did I? Fire up your oven's broiler and slice a lemon in half, squeezing one of the halves onto the fillet.   Next, chop up some fresh dill.   Add the dill on top of the salmon and sprinkle with garlic salt. Put the salmon in the oven and broil for 10-13 minutes, depending on the fish's thickness.  The lemon tends to make the outside cook more quickly, be careful not to pull it out too soon (unless you like it on the raw side, which I so do not).  In any case, this is a shot of my fish in the oven, not done, but looking quite done. While the fish is cooking, chop up a fresh tomato. Unless your friendly neighborhood fish market is doing some major overhaul of their produce aisle, leaving not a fresh tomato in sight...then open up a can of diced 'maters. Melt three more nice size slices of butter in a pan (like my accurate measuring terminology? Sorry, I'll try to get better someday. Or not).  Add a half-cup of white wine I made it look blurry on purpose. Like I drank too much of the cooking wine. Really. Wisk the butter and wine constantly over medium heat for 30 seconds.   Now dump about half the can of tomatoes (or the one diced tomato) into the pan and keep on whisking. If you are wondering, those little green things are capers. You can add a heaping tablespoon to the mix if you'd like. If your husband thinks the word caper is really just a stand in for "spawn of the devil" however, I suggest you throw in just a few. You know, to watch him try to roll one away from his rice with a fork. Funny stuff. But I digress. Stir this saucy mix for a minute or so, until heated through. By this time, the salmon should be done. Make a bed of rice, add the salmon, and top with sauce.  From raw fish to table in under 20 minutes. And it even tastes good.

Embroidered Belly Buttons and Skate Parks

I'd like to say that I am so crafty, so creative, so filled with art inspiration that I came up with this great little project all on my own. I'd like to, but I would so be lying. Truth is, I found this fantastic-- and by fantastic I mean, buy this book treasure, "The Creative Family" by Amanda Blake Soule. Inside it, Soule offers up a number of simple projects that both celebrate the creativity of your children and open up a world of new ways to be part of art together. What I love most about this is, well, just look at it: Never mind the fact that our hair all looks like it got stuck in a light socket (or that my husband has hair-- because, um, really). Never mind the fact that we all are apparently baring our midriffs (or if you are Lizzie, you only are a midriff with red hair). I love this portrait done by my four year-old. Soon, this will be hanging this in the hallway on the stairs going up to the boys' rooms, mixed against photos of them-- just another memory frozen in time-- another opportunity to look back and smile at who they are and who they were at a particular moment in time. To make a piece of embroidered art out of your child's art, do this: First draw a circle the size of the hoop you will be using, and let your child's imagination run wild. Max drew our family with such care (I mean, he even added "stress lines" for dad). Noah drew a skate park. He started to write "Acid Pool" underneath his ramp, realized I probably would not be so down with embroidering that, and changed it to a shark-infested pool. Hmmm. I think the words may have been easier. Once their drawings are complete, tape them against a window, and then tape a piece of linen embroidery cloth over it.   Using an embroidery pen (or anything that does not leave permanent markings-- or, if you don't really care, a regular pen works fine-- I've done both), trace your child's drawing onto the cloth. Put the linen in the hoop, tighten and stitch! The kids will love how their drawings come alive with the thread, and you'll have a unique way to save and display their work.   *Embroidery is an easy craft to pick up, especially when you're doing something like this-- rough stitches add to the charm.  Here's a youtube video on stitches, in case you are interested.... http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GeHQn5IZYaI

The Importance of Nice, Clean Drinking Glasses...Not Beer Goggles, People, Drinking Glasses.

I will probably never, ever own a nice set of drinking glasses. The kind of drinking glasses that sparkle in the light of the candles flickering on the table, facets of lead crystal (but not the lead that leaches into the beverage in the glass leaving toxic waste that enters your body only to migrate up into your brain and erase millions of brain cells. No, the kind that makes the glass that much sparklier) throwing back reflections of light that would make even tuna-noodle casserole (which my daughter would love, by the way…so not a food snob) look like a supermodel:

This is actually tuna-noodle casserole in the candle light.

And the men at the table would all look like this:

The only reason he's with Halle Berry is because he hasn't met me.

And the women would all be a version of this:

This is actually me in the candle light.

No, I have these drinking glasses:

This glass is clean. I swear. Just out of the dishwasher.

Which do not reflect any random shimmers from the over-head bulb to create an unrealistic aura. No, dinner looks like dinner. We all look like the people we see in the mirror every day. Or worse. The person in the driver’s license picture we swear looks nothing like us. So, blame it on your drinking glasses.

These are all drinking glasses that would improve my life drastically:

I like how clean they are, and not just clean as in lacking hard water stains, but clean with respect to design.

Same with this Champagne flute:

I think these glasses are very fun and would look great on a table. Just not my table since they would look great for about 4 seconds and then I would knock one or all of them over and dinner would be ruined.

These glasses look all sweet and innocent but will ruin your party. BEWARE!

These are for pregnant women (I know that only women can be pregnant, except for that man who was a woman, but I couldn’t just write “These are for pregnant,” now could I? What word goes after pregnant in this sentence? Leave some suggestions in the comments, please, because now this is just bugging me. Almost as much as the pregnant man.)

See what I mean?

This is an odd glass in more ways than one. Because apparently there is only one in existance and it’s on etsy.

I'm pretty sure you wouldn't want a set of these.

I’ve always loved Baccarat:

You are the price of a small appliance.

This is a glass (can you call something so elegant a “glass?”) that would stand the test of time. At least its design would. It probably wouldn’t stand more than an evening in my house and then it would be so disgusted by the lack of sophistication it would take all the rest of the crystal in my house (because there’s a lot) and go down the street to the neighbors who are much more worldly. Or it would get knocked over by the dog’s tail and end up as deadly shards of crystal, reflecting light from the living room lamp onto the walls before being swept up and discarded like so many empty but beautiful things before it. Ah, the symbolism!

But I digress. Again.

I like the tumbler in this set (only $147 …each). It’s called the “Bonnie Stemware Collection.” Now, I have no beef against the name Bonnie, I have no problems with anyone named Bonnie (yet), but I just don’t get why you would name a “Stemware Collection” Bonnie. Unless it’s not named after a person, but is the synonym of “gay,” as in “Bonnie Prince Charlie,” who was not gay, but did dress up as an Irish maid once. Ah, the things you can learn here!

Unfortunately, I don’t offer many toasts at dinner time any more (”Hey, Anna! Here’s to you! And all the horse poop you tracked through the house! May we forever smell like a barn! And Jimmie! Let’s drink to your fourth bowl of cereal today! And your twelfth banana! And all of the other white stuff you eat! May carbs never be a problem for you! Here here!”) so I’m more of a tumbler gal:

Please don't drink the flowers. Or eat the daisies.

But let’s be realistic here. I’m not washing my glassware by hand. I’ve resisted using dishwashing detergent with phosphates because I’d like my children to still have water to drink when they’re older. They might get thirsty. So we’re stuck with the clean glasses that look dirty. They are clean. Really. And because beautiful, reflective light doesn’t bounce off glassware that has a layer of limestone on it, we all look something like this:

You might want to think twice about coming over for dinner.

–A

Weekend Blessings

A blessing:

Spending a Saturday morning romping in the wet, awakening woods with my four year old.

road trippin'

Road Trippin'

You know that saying, there is no such thing as bad weather, only bad clothes? Well, I think it also applies to road tripping with children. There is no such thing as a bad passenger, only bad preparation. Okay, okay, if you have a car puker (which we did, for a while) that does sort of constitute as a bad passenger. But still. Barf bags in seat pockets pretty much eliminate the worst of it. Probably not the best way to amp you up for a road trip-- talking about puke and all. So how about we focus on this? Smiling faces uninterrupted family time better for the planet (and your wallet) then flying on a jetplane I just noticed that none of these photos were actually taken in a car. Ah! Here's one: children who are securely strapped in. As in, cannot run. Or get into stuff. For hours on end. Yes, I will proudly proclaim my absolute love of the road trip. Ever since my teenage and collegiate years, when, as a dreadlock-loving, handmade dress wearing wild child I criss-crossed the countryside with friends and boyfriends in cars and Greyhounds and the like, the white and yellow lines of smooth highway pavement have been embedded in my heart. There is something about the endlessness of the road, the forward motion of the drive, that sparks all sorts of wonder and adventure. I stick my feet on the dash (did I mention my husband loves to drive-- bonus), crank the radio up, and just soak in the sunshine. Because it is always sunny on my roadtrips. Do you hear me weatherman-predicting-thunderstorms-through-Ohio-today? Always. Sunny. When Noah was four, Justin and I took a two-plus week road trip along the East Coast. It was the kind of road trip I love most-- no agenda, no destination, go where ever the mood strikes. It was so easy, traveling with one little guy in the backseat. (Because I am a freak about this stuff, I must add here that this was taken in an old Volvo wagon, and it had a built in booster seat. The whole five-point harness for four year-olds really wasn't the rage yet. Honest. Ahem.) He was content to look at books, to jabber in his pre-school way, to take pictures of his feet and the backs of our heads with my camera. When Max was three months old, we packed both boys up and drove the 30-plus hours to Big Sky, Montana. It was another pretty easy trip. Stuff was a bit of a problem (as in, we could barley see the boys because I packed an insane amount of baby equipment that all proved to be unnecessary). We got better, though, trip after trip. The boys became road warriors (after Max stopped ralphing every time we went more than 45 miles, that is). Fast forward to last year. We packed a three month old Lizzie and the two boys into our newly christened mini-van. Oh, the room! Oh, the DVD players! It was the first time Justin and I had ever worried about a road trip. We were officially outnumbered. Would mutiny occur? Nope. It was great. And here's why: we take travel packing seriously. As in: we make sure every kid has enough stuff to do to stay busy exactly 85-percent of the trip (and only 85-percent, because hey, they have to learn to appease themselves too, right?) Here's the breakdown of key items we keep handy: Books a plenty. Unless your kid gets carsick reading-- okay, even if your kid gets carsick reading-- have them pick a few books for the road. Also, audio books are a huge must. We take enough for double the amount of time we're in the car, just in case one of the books doesn't pass muster. With a portable CD player, or with cars that come with earphones, you have the option of listening to the books with your child, or if they aren't appropriate for younger ears (or you just want to rock out with your feet on the dash), your child can get lost in a story without having to read/vomit. Small toys. My boys love little tech deck skateboards and lego packs-- but beware, these things are easily dropped and fall into the "mama, can you reach back and get that..." category. I love the little Playmobile magnetic travel sets, and sticker books for the toddler crowd are always a hit. Just be prepared to have stickers cover the inside of said toddler's window. Crayons/dry erase marker boards. We bring our schooling dry erase boards and markers along, in case Max gets an urge "to do homework" (he's still at that age), and also to just draw, erase, and draw some more. With Lizzie suddenly having a huge interest in coloring, I'll start packing our Stockmar crayons too. These all natural beeswax crayons are great, well, just because they are great, but also because if they happen to wind up in her mouth and no one in the backseat happens to notify me for a few minutes, they are also safe. I like the block variety for little hands. DVDs. This one is a bit tricky in our house. While our fancy schmancy mini-van did come with two drop down DVD players, I really, really don't like the idea of an 18-hour screen fest. That being said, um, we do have two DVD players, and there is nothing-- I mean nothing-- that will keep wee ones quieter and more content than being glued to the ol' tele. And so, we compromise. I bring a slug of their favorite movies and save them for when it is too dark to read or draw, or when they are just plain losing the plot. I also netflix some fun stuff that I know they would never watch unless they are, well, hog-tied and strapped down. Last year, they plowed through the entire first season of the Brady Bunch. And loved it. With golden oldies like Gilligan's Island, the Andy Griffith Show, and musicals like The Sound of Music to pick from, there are plenty of options that make me feel a little better about what they are watching (as in no Diego or Star Wars cartoons blasting from the back. Pretty please). Snacks. Oh, I cannot stress enough the importance of the all-accessible snack bag. We load up so that no one starts bonking from starvation. I'll admit, we don't neccessairly do "keep the car tidy" snacks (i.e. crackers galore) but we do vacuum up the majority of the mess between the going there and coming home trips. We also keep a small cooler with juice, milk, water and lunch fixin's (like turkey and cheese and fruit) so that on the off chance we're in a groove, we can eat and keep driving, and if not, we can eat at a rest stop and save both money and our stomachs from fast food gut rot. Good old-fashioned car game fun. We actually still love, despite all the technology we have available, to play the games Justin and I played as kids-- the I Spy, the license plate game, the name-something-you-see-that-starts-with-this-letter game, or be as silent as a statue (which unfortunately never lasts very long for more than three seconds). Unless your kid is doing this: We also play "make up a story," in which the person who is "it" gets to start a story about whatever they want, and then we all take turns adding to it until we get back to the person who started the story, and they get to put the ending on it. Here's an online resource for these kinds of games and more ideas: www.minivanmom.com (seriously). And then, there's always talking. Because that's what family trip is all about, right? Seriously. Because they grow so fast. They go from this, to that, in like, under 10 seconds. A word to the wise: never, ever teach your children the song "99 Bottles of Beer on the Wall." Also, in our car, the kids get three free "are we there yet's" and after that, we start docking that coveted DVD time. Amazing how fast those words disappear from their sweet little vocabularies. Adios folks-- as you read this, we are in the car, heading to Asheville, North Carolina. I'll post when I get there. From a grocery store. A very, very lovely grocery store. --K

I heart Asheville.

I'm still on vacation. We just settled in to a beachside condo in Carolina Beach. As I type, I'm listening to the ocean pulling at the shore. Okay, actually, I am listening to the dishwasher, which sounds eerily like the ocean at high tide.  But still. I'm at the beach, after four glorious days in the green mountain town of Asheville.   I'll be honest: I'm having a hard time writing about our trip.  I'm not sure if it has something to do with trying to process your vacation while you are still, um, on vacation, or if it is because it is early and warm and I want to go do yoga on the porch, listening the the water and feeling the expanse of the ocean.  I'm sorry. That almost sounds like bragging.  Anyway, I was planning to write a bunch of stuff about Asheville, to convince you that if you ever want to go to a town so packed with good food and good people that you sort of feel intoxicated just being there, you might want to fly the coop to Asheville.  I was planning to write about how the restaurants are almost all kid-friendly, fairly priced, and so unique. I was planning to tell you about the daily excursions the kids and I took while my husband was off road biking on the Blue Ridge Parkway. But maybe I'll just show you.  The thing I love most about family vacations, no matter where they may be, is the time together.  It isn't that my family doesn't carve time out for one another at home; we do, a great deal.  It is just that when you are somewhere else, everyone is in a different mode. There is no housework or long to-do list weighing on me. There are no friends to call or homework to finish. There is this sense of adventure and exploration and being open to the moment that shines in all of us.  I'm aware that capturing this easy nature at home is something I want, that being this fully present is something I strive for in my daily life. It's just that it is so easy when we're away, that I can simply sit back and just. enjoy. So this is us, eating at my favorite restaurant in Asheville, The Early Girl. The Early Girl-- with its local, organic produce and fantastic vegetarian options (not that the rest of the eateries in Asheville lack those things, because it is as common as beer-- locally brewed, of course-- on a menu there)-- the Eggs Benny is my favorite dish. Think a bed of corn grit cake, poached eggs, phenomenal tomato sauce and spinach. Oh. Heaven. Can't you tell by the smile? Of course, the kids loved the Asheville Pizza and Brewing Company, a sort of psychadelic pizza joint that is part movie theater, part restaurant and part "Chuck E. Cheese for hippies," as my husband described it. The pizza was actually quite good, and the over-stimulation did, indeed, where off and turn into exhaustion by the time we reached the hotel.   The kids and I spent time everyday meandering through  the downtown streets of Asheville.  From the cool public art, street musicians, and general vibe of the diverse popultion, we all loved just being part of the fabric of the hilly landscape.   Right downtown, there are two great museums-- the Colburn Earth Science and the Health Adventure (I mean, what can be better than a museum that actually makes your child cringe at the ingredients in soda?).  The kids loved running through the Health Adventure, filled with hands-on learning and playing. Even Lizzie got to play there, although she kept picking up an empty baby carrier and bringing it to me. To fill. With a live baby (I know this because every time I tried to put a doll in, she'd chuck it out, say in a demanding tone "bebe" and look at me as if to say, I want a real one mama. Talk to your daddy child. That's all I'm saying). Another day was spent in the expansive and beautiful Arboretum, just minutes from downtown but seemingly out in the middle of no where. From the cool bat exhibit to the hiking trails, we spent hours just walking around, playing along the many paths, and simply enjoying the fact that we were wearing short sleeves. And smiles. We also visited the Western North Carolina Nature Center, another five minute drive from downtown. The kids absolutely love this place, with trails and animals and tons of informative fun.  We walked around, laughed at the playful otter's tricks, and the kids spent time capturing their favorite animals in their vacation books.     Asheville is one of those towns that gets into your blood and just stays there.  Or maybe it is this: or this or this that gets to me.  Whatever it is, I know we're having a riot.   And we're not done. Because we've met up with my parents, my brother, and my cousins for a week. At the beach. I know.  I'm such a brat.

refrigerator magnets

This is a very simple craft that can have some pretty fun results. It's not going to cure dyslexia or have your child reading by 2-1/2 years old, but I will bet that your child will begin to exhibit the recognition of specific words, which is definitely a large part of reading. I'm not going to go into all of the "Reading Wars," the battle over which is better, phonics instruction  or  whole language   instruction since this a CRAFT segment (for the record, I'm solidly in the middle), but Frank Smith in Reading without Nonsense defines reading as "making sense of text," and the National Council of Teachers of English  (NCTE) states that "[r]eading is the complex act of constructing meaning from print."  This could mean that when your child sees the Golden Arches and yells, "McDonalds!"  she is actively reading (not that you would ever take your child to McDonalds).   It's also common sense that the more words your child sees, the more opportunity he has to put two-and-two together and make meaning out of letters.  And where better to do that than on your refrigerator? Personalized Refrigerator Magnets (unless, like me, you have stainless and it's not magnetized, then replace "refrigerator" with "extra freezer") First you will need to go out to your friendly hardware store and find magnetized heating vent covers.     The link to this picture shows a pack of 6 for $42 to $45.  This seems like a lot to spend, so I might shop around, if I were you.  You also won't need a pack of 6...you can fit a lot of words on each sheet...unless you're planning on copying the dictionary.  Next, choose the words you want to expose to your child.  We chose words that had the most meaning: their names, names of friends, names of family and pets, common places they were familiar with, common words often used or related to individual interests like pets (dog) or sports: Using a permanent marker (I like to use the widest tip available), write each word on the vent cover, leaving plenty of white space around each word.  Note: if you don't have very good handwriting, I would find someone who does.  You don't want your children to have to get in the habit of deciphering letters; you want the letters to be very easy to read.  Also, print, no cursive.  I also like the idea of helping children learn by including pictures as part of the word:

 the word "cloud" in the shape of a cloud

or "green" written in green:               Or glue pictures on the magnet next to the word:  As your child becomes more and more cognizant of each word's meaning, add verbs and articles to your magnet collection.  Maybe each day post a new sentence that she can read by herself.  It's so exciting to watch kids learn and this is an easy way to help them on that path. --A

This Recipe Is Good. Even Though I Made It.

I'm Not Kidding.  Chicken & Garlic.  What More Do You People Want?

Here's the funny thing.  Dan and Jodi, who give me my favorite recipes, gave me this recipe.  BUT THEY DON'T  REMEMBER IT!  Hmmm.  I'm not sure what that means.  Perhaps that they don't want to be responsible for anything I make.  But this, this recipe is good.  It requires the following

  +    + 

equals

Pop it into the oven for half-an-hour or until the chicken is done, whichever comes first.  But about half way through that time (say, 15 minutes), pull the garlic (it should be soft by this point)  Mmmm. Roasted garlic.  There might not be anything better.  Except maybe toasted coconut ice cream.  Press the garlic:

 This is one of my favorite tools in the kitchen.  It's not the best model out there (my brother-in-law has an old metal one that I salivate over), but it does the trick.  I love that you can press the garlic with the skins on and dig out the skin later and have your fingers smell like garlic for 2 days.  And I do wash my hands.  Obsessively. 

Mix the pressed garlic with salad dressing (or balsamic vinegar) and mayonnaise:

      to make this: 

Find a willing victim taste-tester:

 If you use this one, keep a close eye on the sauce, because she will eat all of it.

Serve up the chicken, some rice, some broccoli and you have this:

 No, this is the boy's meal.  He is not much into meat, and I've not come to the point where I set down the law and say, "This isn't a diner.  Eat what I give you."  So he eats yogurt, broccoli, and toast.  Yum.  The rest of us eat this:

  If you'd rather have the yogurt, broccoli, and toast recipe, don't hesistate to e-mail.    Or grow up and eat at the big kid table.

--A

 

 

 

 

Groovy

see more Lolcats and funny pictures I'm tired. A voice, a semi-deep, 10 year-old voice woke me at 6. Why can't the Easter Bunny come sometime in the late afternoon?

Bead-a-ful

 I love this bead.  I attached it to a sterling silver chain with a clasp that I learned to make from Connie Fox.   Connie is a gifted metal-worker and talented teacher.  Her free tutorials are great.  And free.   I added a vintage Swarovski crystal as a dangle because I love dangles.  I probably bought that at the Beadin' Path, one of my favorite resources for vintage beads.

This is not a great picture.  The bracelet is much more vibrant in reality.  I do want to point out the charm.  The people at Beaducation have fantastic tutorials (some free, some you pay for) that teach you basic and advanced skills.  I bought the class "Intro to Fine Silver Metal Fusing" and then adapted it to make this charm. 

The following cuffs are some of my favorite pieces.  Ironically, I rarely wear jewelry.  And I don't often wear my own jewelry, but I do wear my cuff.  The cuff itself was purchased through Rocio Studios.  I attached my beads with silver wire.  Please ignore the fact that you can see the reflection in the silver of me taking the picture.

 "Tickled Pink"

 "Earth" (I don't know why)

"Puppy Paw" (Anna named this one, obviously)

 "Cashmere"

And keep checking back here for more updates.  I also make stamped silver charm necklaces (see sidebar contest), lampwork bead necklaces, earrings, etc.  Presently I have items at Three Pines Studio  in Cross Village, Michigan, a great place to find unique and beautiful items for yourself, your home, or special gifts for others that you'll end up wanting to keep for yourself. 

 

 

american girl

Meet Jane, our American Girl Doll.   Max, at the wonderful age of four, wanted to make his sister's first birthday present.  Loving the idea of his little hands creating something for our Lizzie to treasure long after her special day, I happily encouraged Max to pursue his plan. Until I heard him say "Um, so yeah, mama, I'm thinking about making Lizzie her very own 'merican girl doll that looks just like her." Oh boy. Let me interject here by saying I am not a strong seamstress, nor have I ever ventured into the craft store aisles that carry the makings of a baby doll. Those rows of plastic heads and little wigs and randomly facing arms and legs totally freak me out.  So, I stalled.  I suggested making her a book. Or a picture. Or a song.   But no, it had to be a doll. So determined and so excited, Max took my hand and trounced up the stairs to our craft closet.  He got up on his tiptoes and hauled the large canvas bin down that holds our many fabric scraps and wool felt pieces.  I watched with piqued curiosity as he dumped the bin and, tongue out in concentration, set to work finding...well, I had no idea what. "Ah!" He cried, pulling up a deep pink wool felt square.  "Just what I was looking for!" He laid the square on our craft table and dug a pair of scissors and a pen from the cupboard. And then, he drew his doll. Once he outlined a perfectly fantastic little monster   replica of his sister, we cut the felt out together.   Max held the flimsy silhouette and frowned. "Not much of a doll." My creative juices finally caught up with my kiddo's and I set to work tracing the outline of the doll that Max designed. We cut this out too, and then moved on to giving "Jane" a face.  Using embroidery thread and a larger size needle, I pushed the thread through the felt and allowed Max to help pull it up, as he directed me on color, design, and placement of  her facial features. Once we had a smiling, bright (yellow) eyed face smiling back at us, we started to stitch the two matching pieces of felt together.  I used the blanket stitch, which I think looks like a perfect fit for the project, and it also is a good stitch to do with the help of little hands (Max did the pull-thru).   With just a wee opening left, we stuffed the doll, and then finished the stitching. After tying off the last stitch, I held up the finished project-- and held my breath-- waiting for Max's reaction. He sized Jane up for a minute, and broke out into that mixture of jumping, clapping, and giggles that meant he was oh-so-pleased-and-proud. "It is exactly what I pictured in my head," he beamed. "Wizzie is gonna love it." And oh my, she certainly did. To make your own American Girl doll (or monster or anything else your child can dream up), you will need: --wool felt squares (one or two, depending on size)-- and I do encourage you to spend the extra money and go for the wool. There really is no comparison in terms of feel and durability-- the natural fibers are just so much better than the synthetic stuff. --embroidery thread and a needle --stuffing (we go for the natural wool stuffing, but it can be hard to find and in this case, the polyester stuff that is readily available at craft shops is just fine). --K

Beco Baby Carriers are pure Genius. And unfortunately, no one is paying me to say so. Yet. Plus...Something Fishy Is Going on.

I am a self professed baby carrier addict. I have one of these (hotsling): (never mind the hardhat party happening behind me. Weird.) and these (Bjorn...lived in it for a year. Lizzie looks a bit like a Patagonia blob there, no?): and these (ergo): and these (Kelty exterior frame...notice that's Max back there-- been a while since I used this much): but nothing-- and I mean nothing-- compares to what I just bought (see honey, so justified): I am completely head-over-heels in love with my beco baby carrier.  Comfortable. Comes in a ton of different colors/styles. Back and front positions-- and doesn't hurt my back, or my front, for that matter.  I rocked this thing all over the hilly streets of Asheville (notice the I there....thanks oh Blue Ridge Parkway, stealer of all husbands who happen to road ride), throughout the shops of Wilmington, and fully plan on it being carrier numero uno for all our outdoor excursions (and vacuuming work) at home. I have the newest model-- I think it is the 4.0 or something like that. I also opted for the "duo organic" color scheme. Noah, in his 10 year-old smart-mouth wise way, asked if the plastic clips were, indeed, organic as well. Whatever.  It has an infant insert and can carry up to 40 pounds. If you have a little one, you might need to splurge on this. It rocks. It also has nothing to do with what I'm supposed to be drawing you readers toward, which is my what a hoot post for the day. But how, exactly, does one say "hey, on what a hoot, I sort-of just talk about boobs! Isn't that funny?" Oh. Right. Just like that, I guess. 

Where I live, spring is

Where I live, spring is called "mud season." As the snow melts, banks as tall as me shrinking and turning brown with dirt and sand from the roads, the ground reappear in all of its wet, sludgy glory. It is a time, traditionally, when sports are in-between seasons (or practices are only getting started), a time when everyone seems to just emerge from their winter layers, stretch and happily walk, run, skip-- or just breathe-- soaking in the long forgotten sun. Spring is all about rebirth, renewal, reawakening, and there is no where we feel this restoration more than outside. This energy of spring is contagious, which is why I'm so excited that a good friend of mine just launched the No Child Left Inside movement, based on the book "Last Child in the Woods" by Richard Louv (if you have not read it, and have children, grandchildren, friends with children....get it) here in our little town. As we greet the return of longer days, it is the perfect time to be reminded of how important it is to get our children outdoors-- simply to play. The Getting Kids Outdoors Initiative has an amazing website filled with a variety of ideas and activities that can be tailored to anyone's backyard. The importance of play-- unstructured connection time with the natural world-- is gaining momentum with child-focused professionals (doctors, teachers, psychologists...and of course, PARENTS). We live in an age where this is more prevelent than this: And folks, I have to say, there is no better way to get your children to sleep, learn leadership skills, develop curiosity, and have fun without stuff than to open your back door and say "go play." Celebrate spring with us by doing just that...or by hooking a mattress up to a four wheeler, if you are Alison, and get pulled around the yard that way. Because that is being in nature at its finest. Really.

Finding Jesus

see more Lolcats and funny pictures

If I'm going to eat

  If I'm going to eat an animal, I like it to look mean and ugly, not cute and sweet.  This is a picture of a sockeye salmon.  I have no problem eating that.   I don't have any problem eating chocolate, either, since it comes from this: Didn't know that, did you?  But now you never need to feel guilty about eating chocolate, do you? Back to the ugly salmon...  I like it to look like this before I prepare it:  I bought this frozen at the grocery store, but it is wild salmon and was flash frozen so I figure it has the allhealth benefits I'm looking for.  I cut it into fourths so that it would cook more quickly and evenly.   I cut it with a dull knife, thus the finger holes in the salmon piece on the lower left.   We'll cover that up.  Don't worry. I spray the heck out of it (yes, butter would taste better, but I'm not one of those people who can eat butter and not have it attach itself to my thighs 10 minutes later)  with whatever spray I have at the time.  I'm not loyal to a specific brand of non-stick sprays.  Add salt and pepper.  Notice my fancy salt.  Ignore my pepper.  I should have dressed it up for the occasion. Sprinkle parmesan cheese over top.  Lots of parme.  Even more.  I prefer freshly grated parmesan since it makes the top nice and crispy, but you've gotta do with what you've got.  That makes no sense but really makes me feel like I'm down with my bad self.  Then spray, spray, spray again.   Throw this on the grill, aluminum foil and all, until done.  However long that is.  That's Sam's job.  Prior to this I sauteed some onion, garlic, and mushrooms to add to our basmati rice: Add some broccoli (boy, do we eat a lot of broccoli), and you've got a meal.

As someone with a degree

As someone with a degree in Creative Writing and English Literature, my children have no choice but to be into books. And not just reading them either.  One of our favorite activities/gifts for people/homeschool activities is to make books.  For a long time, we just folded paper, stapled or ran yarn through the center, and wrote or drew stories that ranged from magical tales or nature journals to recalling the most important facts from a history or science text. Then we discovered Bare Books, a great little company that sells blank hardcover books and comic books (and even board games-- yes, you too could have your very own version of Barfopoly!). I love the fact that the kids feel like they have written a "real" book because it is bound, and I love the ease of packing blank Bare Books for field trips or vacations.   Like the one we happen to be on right now.  Creativity sparks are flying here.  We're currently living on the 11th floor of a downtown hotel, hanging on fluffy white (well, white until my children clamor all over them) sheets and swimming in the pool  (that's a page in Max's book) and exploring the wonder and beauty that is Asheville, North Carolina.  While the words "school work" would elicit groans galore (even from Max, who at four does "homework" for fun), daily journaling in their vacation books is met with....okay, met with minimal resistance. Until they get going. And then? I'm all, "guys, I want to go get a latte. Guys, I want to go....Guys! Put the pencils down-- it is sunny outside!"  --K

Lizzie's version of the best

Lizzie's version of the best dinner ever

in Asheville at dinner one night, this painting was positioned above our table. Can you tell what we were all fixated on? hmmm.  Please note: the sag (just no delicate way to say that, is there?)  in that painting bears no resemblance to this author. Ahem.  --K

It's the Big One!

We're dog people.  We have a cat (and this is not it.  I just spent an hour looking for the really cute pictures we have of our cat and then just gave up, but just take my word for it, she's really cute) but by-and-large we are a dog family, a large dog family.   A dog hair family.

The first time Sam ever made dinner for me is a memory I'll never forget.  We had gone ice skating and then came back to his house where he made wild rice with broccoli and salmon for dinner.  I reached over to my wine glass to take a sip and there, floating on top of the wine was a black dog hair.  Here is where you need to know that I grew up with a mother who had me wash my hands so often that I swore I would never require my children to wash their hands ever.  Here's where you need to know that my mother poured boiling water over the sink after chicken had been prepared there in order to annihilate any germs.   Not the cute germs you see here, but the ones that try to KILL you.

Here's where you need to know that had hand sanitizer been invented when I was a child I would have bathed in it daily.  So a dog hair in my wine glass was something I could not ignore.  I pointed out the hair to Sam and he replied, "Well, if you're going to be with me you're just going to have to get used to it."  Now our motto is "If it doesn't have dog hair, don't eat it."  But I digress.  We have a little dog (see below, way below.  Below the picture of Mr. Incredible).  She's not a big dog.  And she wasn't a puppy when we got her.  We always knew that our children would need to have the experience of a puppy, so for the last year-and-a-half or so, we've had puppies in the backs of our minds.  Labradors are always a possibility, but over-breeding has made us question this choice.  Then I found the Leonberger: I even found a registered breeder who lived 2 hours away who had a litter of puppies.  Too bad she turned out to be insane!  Around this same time we came across a flyer in the local IGA that advertised AKC Great Dane puppies.  Because finding your breeder at the IGA is really a good move.  We tracked down the breeder (a couple who love the breed and have a backyard kennel), quizzed our friend the vet, Sam's mom (who had a Great Dane 60 years ago, so that makes her an expert), and people who knew the couple on a social level.  All of that and none of that helped, so after driving by the house where the puppies were five or six times (yes, we're puppy breeder stalkers), we stopped and looked at those little puppies.  And that was it.  Because if you've ever stopped and looked at puppies, you'll know.  That. Was. It. And we brought her home and treated her with kid gloves.  Because apparently Great Danes are fragile little creatures.  Or so we thought.  I read, and read, and read some more about Great Danes.  Don't feed them around the clock.  Leave their bowls out so they can eat when they want to.  Don't exercise them too much or they'll grow too fast and have bone problems.   We tiptoed around this puppy and were rapidly raising a dog with issues.  We were rapidly raising a bratty teen who was going to demand a new BMW when she turned sixteen.  When she growled at a couple kids and snapped at our favorite coffee shop owner, we knew something had to be done.  Thank God for this woman:

This is Patty of Northwoods Dog Trainingand I don't know where we'd be without her.  Okay, I do know.   We'd be slaves to our dog.  At our first session with Patty, Moly (Holy Moly is her full name) whined, cowered, and actually bit Patty.  We were under orders to sit in our seats and not move no matter what Moly did.  She bit the dog trainer.  I was so upset and unnerved by the time we left, I wanted to cry.  Patty is just as much a psychiatrist to dog owners as she is trainer of dogs.  We were taught over 4 weeks of training to use a clicker to signal to Moly the behavior we liked.  We were also trained to go through doors first, to have her earn treats, and we now pretend to eat her food before giving it to her.  Pretending to eat her food is all fine and dandy unless the washing machine repairman is working on your machine during feeding time.  Then it's a little hard to explain. We also changed her food from expensive food that has corn gluten  in it, a common cause of allergies and a possible anxiety trigger, to really expensive food that I could serve at a goumet club dinner.   Not that I'd do that.  All of these changes, plus walking her twenty times a day and bringing her to doggy day care once a week so that those little dogs don't scare the daylights out of her have made all of the difference in the world.   Just ask Mr. Incredible  Four months ago, that little move could have been really dangerous. Should you live or vacation in the area and need help handling your dog(s), do not hesistate to contact Patty.  That woman is a saint.  And I don't mean Bernard.

american girl doll

Meet Jane, our American Girl Doll. Max, at the wonderful age of four, wanted to make his sister's first birthday present. Loving the idea of his little hands creating something for our Lizzie to treasure long after her special day, I happily encouraged Max to pursue his plan. Until I heard him say "Um, so yeah, mama, I'm thinking about making Lizzie her very own 'merican girl doll that looks just like her." Oh boy. Let me interject here by saying I am not a strong seamstress, nor have I ever ventured into the craft store aisles that carry the makings of a baby doll. Those rows of plastic heads and little wigs and randomly facing arms and legs totally freak me out. So, I stalled. I suggested making her a book. Or a picture. Or a song. But no, it had to be a doll. So determined and so excited, Max took my hand and trounced up the stairs to our craft closet. He got up on his tiptoes and hauled the large canvas bin down that holds our many fabric scraps and wool felt pieces. I watched with piqued curiosity as he dumped the bin and, tongue out in concentration, set to work finding...well, I had no idea what. "Ah!" He cried, pulling up a deep pink wool felt square. "Just what I was looking for!" He laid the square on our craft table and dug a pair of scissors and a pen from the cupboard. And then, he drew his doll. Once he outlined a perfectly fantastic little monster replica of his sister, we cut the felt out together. Max held the flimsy silhouette and frowned. "Not much of a doll." My creative juices finally caught up with my kiddo's and I set to work tracing the outline of the doll that Max designed. We cut this out too, and then moved on to giving "Jane" a face. Using embroidery thread and a larger size needle, I pushed the thread through the felt and allowed Max to help pull it up, as he directed me on color, design, and placement of her facial features. Once we had a smiling, bright (yellow) eyed face smiling back at us, we started to stitch the two matching pieces of felt together. I used the blanket stitch, which I think looks like a perfect fit for the project, and it also is a good stitch to do with the help of little hands (Max did the pull-thru). With just a wee opening left, we stuffed the doll, and then finished the stitching. After tying off the last stitch, I held up the finished project-- and held my breath-- waiting for Max's reaction. He sized Jane up for a minute, and broke out into that mixture of jumping, clapping, and giggles that meant he was oh-so-pleased-and-proud. "It is exactly what I pictured in my head," he beamed. "Wizzie is gonna love it." And oh my, she certainly did. To make your own American Girl doll (or monster or anything else your child can dream up), you will need: --wool felt squares (one or two, depending on size)-- and I do encourage you to spend the extra money and go for the wool. There really is no comparison in terms of feel and durability-- the natural fibers are just so much better than the synthetic stuff. --embroidery thread and a needle --stuffing (we go for the natural wool stuffing, but it can be hard to find and in this case, the polyester stuff that is readily available at craft shops is just fine). --K Big Paper Roll+ Crayons= Masterpiece Some days, the best kind of art just sort of happens. In the middle of the afternoon, desperate for a break from stuck-inside-due-to-illness sibling bickering, I quietly dug the big roll of brown shipping paper from the closet. I cut a large sheet, taped it to the front hall floor with painter's tape, and set out a big bucket of crayons. And then I walked away. Lizzie, of course, found the bucket first. It took all of three seconds for her to send all the crayons rolling across the floor. The noise caught Max's attention, and he soon migrated to the paper. Eventually Noah sprawled across the paper too-- paper that was no longer blank but instead filling with sky scrapers, monsters, hybrid cars (of course), an ice cream store, thunderous clouds and lightening bolts (which themselves sparked a "does lightening come from sky or ground" debate that required Noah to get out his science books..The answer? Both. Love when that happens). Me? I watched for a few minutes, careful to stay out of the way and quiet. The rest of the glorious 37 minutes of coloring were spent sipping hot tea and staring out my kitchen window at the rolling hills blanketed in snow, and the bare, muted trees that remind me of a charcoal drawing. --K

Jimmie's haircut

  This is about Jimmie.  Actually, this is about Jimmie's hair.  This is about how much hair can come from one head.  Jimmie's hair once inspired his Halloween costume: And although it may look like a Christmas tree, it is actually a bush and won him a large Hershey's candy bar from the woman who lives across the street from our friend John.  Alas, it was a Hershey's bar with almonds and what kid wants that, but it was meaningful to Jimmie nonetheless. I digress.  This is also about cutting hair.  Tina, who will be my personal hairdresser when I become rich and famous, don't read past this point, because I'm going to give you all some pointers on cutting hair.  I don't know anything about cutting hair.  I have some clippers and I kind of rock them like you see in this video, but I do this over the whole entire head, trim up any stray areas with my scissors and pray for the best.[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AHd33bvXqUc]  Fortunately my customer is not too picky. And in case you think I exaggerate on the amount of hair this kid's head can hold, here's a picture of all of the hair that I cut, and there isn't even dog hair in that pile, swear to God.

Here is a good resource for do-it-yourself haircuts for boys and girls from wikiHow  http://www.wikihow.com/Cut-Kids'-Hair .  And I've always wanted one of these

  the Flowbee.  They claim, "Save money, save time, and have fun!" and who can argue with that? Another satisfied customer. --A

Turn Your Nest into an Art Museum (of the fingerpaint variety)

One of our family values is to "Be Creative."  And so, obviously, we create a lot of art project. A lot. And when children create art, the obvious next desire to display their art. Everywhere.  My husband-- while not exactly a design fanatic-- simply hates pictures taped to walls.  There is something about scotch tape that actually makes him squirm.  And so for a long time, he would walk past hallways adorned with our children's latest masterpieces and frown (because I honestly believe the only thing his eyes could see was tape. Everywhere.)  So it became a bit of a mission for me to find fun ways to display our young artists' works. Here's a few ideas: The Art Wall-- There are a variety of ways to create an art wall, all of which provide a great space for a rotating gallery of your kids' creations.  Here's the art wall at our house: The banner was made with watercolor pencils and paper-- the kind that is self-adhesive (no tape!).  The strip on which the artwork hangs? Yup, made from our wine corks. Should I interrupt here and note that my husband and I ARE NOT alcoholics? This is a decade of corks people.I (hiccup) swear it to you.      Corks do make an easy display backdrop-- not overpowering-- and are pushpin friendly for holding art in place.  We simply took a thin strip of wood (a little thinner than the length of a cork) and a glue gun.  Glue the corks on, leaving two cork spaces empty in three spots to drill and then nail to the wall, and then glue corks over those spaces. Simple as that. If, however, you do not drink red wine like it was water (*ahem*) or here are some other cute Art Wall options: This crafty concoction was made from a curtain rod and curtain hooks.  What a clever idea.  Of course, you can always purchase art wire clips from places like the Land of Nod, where I found these for $9.99 And perhaps easiest of all (and oh-so-cute) ? Take a wire or hemp rope, string it up tight, and use clothespins (made even sweeter if painted by little hands), like the folks over at www.activitymama.wordpress.com did. Frame It! My kids are so very proud when their artwork is framed and hung around our house.  While the frames can be changed out for fresh works, I find that most often, once a picture has made it into a frame, I love its look too much to let it go....so I just add more.  Framed art adds a funky and fun feel to your child's work, and it is great when mixed against "grown up" art to tie design together.  Here's a photo of one of the walls in our craft corner (ignore the other wall, where there is taped art...I just can't give that up completely). I mix in more pricey frame shop frames with el-cheapos (like a dollar a piece at the thrift store) and it works for me.  I also like framed kids art in less expected places, like this wall in our kitchen Yes, they hang that crooked most days, and no, our last name is not "Assett." The first letter is just done in yellow. But I'll be honest, the whole "that looks like Assett" thing is why that picture made it in a frame.  Here's what I'd like my next project to be: Found this one over at www.homeschoolstylebytes.squarespace.com and love the idea of a whole wall of chalkboard art. Alison, who was once a teacher, shudders at the thought of all. that. dust. I'm still romanticizing the comics and monsters and skateboard parks that would fill my almost 10 year-olds wall though. What do you think? And if you have unique or fun ways to display your wee ones' art, please share! --K

Gone to the Dogs

Los Perros, Parte Uno

I think that every dog I ever had when I was growing up got hit by a car. Or the snow plow. Or ran away. So you'd think that maybe I would have had my share of heartbreak and sworn off dogs forever. Nope. Sam, on the other hand, grew up as a very responsible dog owner, the kind who walks his dog on a leash and has a fenced-in yard. Ours ran around the neighborhood like little hussies until all hours, deficated in every yard but our own, got pregnant, had puppies, got in fights...we were a family who probably shouldn't have had any pets, now that I think about it. But I have seen the error of my ways. When we were married Sam already had a dog, a beautiful black Lab named Bailey who is now referred to as St. Bailey, because she was perfect and no other dog will ever compare.  After Bailey died of old age (because she was walked every day and had a fenced-in yard), we resisted getting a puppy. We had 2 young kids and did not want to end up with a poorly trained dog for the next 15 years, so we got a mutt, a humane society dog who for her first 1-1/2 years had lived with 3 families: an old man who had died (she was found lying next to his lifeless body), a family (their little girl ended up having severe dog allergies and was sick all the time), and Sandy, the woman who raised her from a pup to be a companion dog. Sandy gave Zoe to us.  Anna immediately loved her like no one else. One time I remarked that I thought she might like the dog better than me and she replied, "Oh no. I love you both the same." She's not kidding.  I'd hate to be in the position where she'd would have to choose between Zoe or me.  If there were a way to be surgically attached to that dog she would probably do it. Zoe is a big dog in a small body. But even though she has been known to take down many big dogs, she's not adverse to being dressed up in a wedding dress or playing the game "Zoe Has Babies." This game can be played with any willing dog.  All it requires is that the dog remains prone with a blanket over half of her stomach. Under the blanket place as many small stuffed dogs as can be gathered. Think Beanie Babies. Or WebKinz.   Here she is in the throes of labor: Reach under the blanket and pull out the dogs. It's miraculous.  A beautiful, little husky puppy. Zoe also has issues. Should you come over to our house you will see that parts of our deck railing have been shredded to toothpicks. Zoe will see or smell some sort of critter outside the fence and go completely psycho, tearing at the railing like she's on the Titanic and the last life raft has just been launched. It is a quality does not endear her to my husband. She has also chewed through a seat belt in my car, chewed a hole in the side wall of my mother-in-law's car, and she chases our cat. But she is cute. And she loves us. And that counts for a lot.  Now if someone could just convince Sam.