Category Archives: Uncategorized

The New Keyhole

In our old house there was a door to a bedroom that, at some point before we arrived, had it’s doorknob changed to one of a different style. The “fix” left behind a small circular hole that was fantastic for checking on sleeping, or potentially sleeping, kids. As an added bonus every so often I was presented with some cute photo opportunities.
This house, however, has nice sound doors with door hardware attached as it was meant to be and no gaping holes.

A feature that, I will admit, disappointed me far more than a woman should be disappointed when looking at nice hole free doors in her nice new house. But then I noticed that some of the doors do have old fashioned keyholes in them.

And if I line it up just right…

Jane through keyhole

 …I can still catch a glimpse of what is happening inside.

The Time Change Killed Her

You remember her right, my darling Clementine? She is lost and gone forever and it was the time change that did her in.

What a dreadful sorrow.

There she was in a nice routine, driving her ducklings to the water every day just at nine, when someone up and changes the time on her.

I can’t say if the ducks staged an angry uprising at the change or if she really did hit her toe upon a splinter in her fuzzy sleep deprived state. But, either way, I’m certain it was the time change that did it. And there she was, drowning in the foaming brine.

What a dreadful sorrow.

I know what you are thinking. You are thinking, “Don’t be ridiculous, that song was written long before Daylight Savings Time ever existed.” As to that, I say clearly the song was written by a benevolent time traveler attempting to warn us of the dangers of messing with the clock.

Have we listened? No.

Are you regretting that this morning? Yes.

What a dreadful sorrow.

 

Date Night In

Two months ago I shared how we have date night at home.

This weekend we deviated from our normal dinner date night and instead our night consisted of a short  Les Mills Body Combat workout followed by roasting marshmallows and chatting by the wood stove.

fire

Did you know that if kids aren’t “helping” you can make roasted marshmallows without charcoal stuck to them? Or ashes? Or dirt? You can just cook them into a golden gooey perfection.

Amazing.

How about you, have you had a date night in?

In Michigan…

“Well, I guess in Michigan they have really big cats and lots of snow.” Ivy stated as we drove to meet my Uncle for an afternoon of skiing and sledding.

John and I agreed. It was undeniably true that the house cats we had seen since arriving in Michigan  were huge (I think one of them is actually part mountain lion) and the snow was impressively deep.

While I’ve no photo evidence to show you that the cats were at least three times the size of ours (and part mountain lion), I did bring the camera out into the snow.

After an entire afternoon of skiing and sledding followed by a delicious dinner, we headed back out into the snow for a fire and s’mores.

Soon after Uncle Jim joined us around the fire, Ivy calmly walked over to me, tugged on my jacket and said, “Can I whisper something to you?”

“Mom, why is Uncle Jim wearing a skirt?”

In Michigan, they have really big cats, lots of snow and they take perfectly good Finnish candles, call them Scottish Cabers and then stand around them in their kilts.DSCN7527-(2sm)

Alright, to be fair to the rest of  Michigan, I’m pretty sure it’s just my uncle that does that.

But we are so grateful that he keeps putting our animals back together when they break that we’ll still admit to being related.

DSCN7468-(2sm)

No worries we didn’t bring any really broken animals with us this time. Just some veterinary maintenance that Clara presided over.

All in all it was a great trip, even the drive (two adults, three kids, two dogs, two cats through Chicago) wasn’t too bad.

Noisy- but not bad!

A Tricky Subject

Yesterday was another beautiful winter day. So while the girls and the dogs played, I took pictures until my bare fingers had all the dexterity of frozen fish sticks. (Which took all of ten minutes.) The camera battery and I persevered in the cold because, not only was it was a gorgeous day, but it has come to my attention that I share very few pictures of Trip.  It’s not that I don’t love my dog. Quite the opposite, I’d love to plaster pictures of him all over this blog and then wait expectantly while you tell me how wonderful and handsome he is.  But, taking pictures of Trip is a bit tricky…

Mostly they look like this:Trip running out of frame

Sometimes they look like this:Trip running in snow

Occasionally I’ll get something like this:Trip running on snowy driveway

But more often they turn out crazy like this:Trip running with devil ears

My dog – he likes to run!  And if Trip thinks running is good, then running when you have something someone else wants is great.

This is Storm.Storm standing in the snow

The thing Storm loves most in the world is balls (and sticks). Storm obsesses over balls to the extent that I worry that our girls will forever be inept at any sport requiring one because we don’t ever let Storm play with balls, or see balls or, heaven forbid, fetch balls. Ever.

No balls.

Trip, in addition to loving to run, is (and I am, of course, totally biased here) a very intelligent dog.

Once Trip has discovered that he is still confined to a mere handful of acres and not allowed to go check out what’s happening three miles down the road, he eventually settles down (relatively speaking) and decides to torment Storm instead.

Since there are no balls – anywhere- he goes for the next best thing. Apples. Where you ask, does a dog find apples in the middle of winter with a foot of snow?

On the tree of course. Trip getting apple out of treeAnd if the last apples are out of reach, you just have to jump:Trip jumping for apple

(In addition to his grand intelligence, my dog has an excellent vertical jump!)Trip with apple in snowBall like object found he proceeds to torment Storm by showing it off (as in above picture) and then racing around out her reach. This causes Storm to bark incessantly, and then get yelled at for barking.

This crazy behavior was not a one time event. Trip has been tormenting Storm with apples all winter.

My dog is a brat.

A smart, high jumping, brat.

Eventually, when Trip is done with the running and the jumping and the teasing, he can be found taking a nap in a sunbeam.Trip sleeping

Which is when I can finally get my picture.

Still Chilly!

Below zero is too chilly to get a clear picture out the open window. The heat from the house causes the air to shimmer and everything looks a bit fuzzy. Unfortunately, while I like playing outside in the cold my camera and it’s battery seriously object to such treatment. I suppose in theory a person could have a really clean window and shoot from inside – however this is a theory I have been unable to test. But fuzzy issues and all I just can’t resist sharing this cold, grumpy looking sparrow!

sparrow stylized

I changed this from the original photo I posted. This one has gone through much photo shop doctoring with the intent that it looks more like a painting.

Thank you for all the well wishes on my Clara induced injury it’s getting better everyday!

Basic Clara Safety Rules Revisited

Long ago when Clara was just a crawling infant with a serious projectile vomit issue, I wrote a post outlining the Basic Clara safety Rules.

They were as follows:

1. Always treat Clara as if she were loaded.

2. Never allow the mouth to point at anything you are not willing to see destroyed.

3. Be sure of your target and beyond.

And while the projectile vomit is a thing of the past (a fact for which I have thanked my lucky stars individual and by name) I fear that the basic rules still apply.

And I, alas, forgot the rules.

I was sitting on the floor, my back to Clara,  working on a project with Ivy (Rule violation #1 always treat Clara as if she were load and never turn your back on a loaded Clara) when Clara launched herself from the bed at my head. (Rule #2 violation- clearly, my head was not something I was willing to see destroyed).  But, I had forgotten the rules and my middle daughter, with all the grace of an evil flying monkey, landed on my head and clung there.  Now, there are times when I have adhered to the “screamfree parenting” approach – this was not one of them.

The evil flying monkey/middle child was quickly removed from the back of my head and life went on. Unfortunately, life for me these last two days has consisted of two things. The necessary tasks around house (i.e. parenting) or lying flat on my back in front of the fire with a bag of peas on my neck. And, just in case you were thinking that sounded cozy, let me tell you that it is very hard to stay warm on a chilly day with a frozen bag of peas on your neck.

Thanks to anti-inflammatory drugs, frozen peas and extra rest, my head/neck are recovering from being the target of Clara. Sadly, it is likely that blogging will continue to take a backseat this week, as it is very hard to do while laying flat on my back and despite my wishes otherwise, it is not actually essential to daily life.

My bag of peas is calling and so I leave you with one final reminder, for your safety, as well as the safety of others:

1. Always treat Clara as if she were loaded.

2. Never allow the mouth to point at anything you are not willing to see destroyed.

3. Be sure of your target and beyond.

Goodnight Ladies

“Goodnight ladies.” I say as I come up, shining a quick light through the coop to be sure the rouge possum that’s been about hasn’t found it’s way in for the night. The feathery bundles hardly shift from their toe warming hunker as I close the door. But if the chickens are indifferent to my presence the ducks make up for with their blind panic at my after dark arrival. Years of the same nightly routine and not even my “Hey Ducks.” called out as a warning that it’s just me calms them. So after a quick head count, I scoot the door closed on their frantic quacking.

Evening lock up done, I call the dogs and we circle back to the house taking the long way. The dogs happily bound ahead through the snow, no doubt hunting bunnies. The cold air is sharp on my cheeks but I’m bundled up against the cold and I turn my flashlight off, enjoying the sounds of the dogs, the glow of the snow and stars and relish the fact that I’m doing “chores.”  As in, I’ve got to go out and take care of the birds. Have to haul that water. Have to make sure they have feed. Have to get the eggs.  Have to close them up, safe from predators and the nasty wind that’s building.

Have to.

Twice a day.

I have to go out in the mornings when everything is covered in last night’s blanket of snow. I have to bring the dogs along and watch them tear through the fresh powder. I have to go out through the storms, hearing nothing but wind and snow, cocooned from the rest of the world inside the weather. I have to go out on the crystal clear nights and see the stars hanging low and bright. I have to go out where I can look back at the glow of the warm house through the trees knowing that if I’m a bit chilly, the fire inside will feel extra warm when I get back.

What a “chore.”

I head back into the warm house taking one last look at the bright stars, one last breath of the air that stings my nose and wonder – as much as I love the winter weather, would I leave my warm fire without those indifferent birds awaiting my care? Would I miss all this? I’d like to think not, that when the temperature drops I’d still be out just for the adventure of it all.

But I’ll keep my birds – just in case.

Phew

Last week when talking about seat belt safety Clara interrupted, “Yes, but Mom I already know that you should never jump in a sharks mouth or put your finger in a tigers mouth or…”

This week Ivy told her friend and I that the only things that makes her nervous are, “…large predators that could kill me…” When her friend asked what a predator was she happily informed her “You know, stuff like bears and wolves and…”Ivy and bear

I’m not sure where this is all coming from, (because to answer my cousin, no, I have not been reading them Peter Capstick stories) but it seems I have accidentally imparted upon my girls a considerable respect for large toothy creatures.

Which is good.

I’ll never have to worry about Clara jumping into a sharks mouth (at least on purpose) and Ivy will not be the kid who tries to cuddle with a bear.

I can just cross those items right off my list of motherly worries.

Phew.