Tag Archives: kids

“It’s Too Hot!”

Jane dislikes her food when it’s too hot.

No.

That’s not correct.

When Jane’s food is too hot, she perceives it as a personal attack on her happiness and well being and holds me directly responsible for the offense.

Yes.

That’s more accurate.

While she howls and give me looks that would no doubt sear the meat from my own bones I try to explain to her, how this “cooking” thing works.

I try to tell her that in order to melt cheese that heat must be applied. I try to tell her that in order to eat that nice pig we raised we need to cook the meat. I try to tell her that we have to cook the meat so that the proteins in the muscles become denatured as that makes them more palatable and digestible. I try to tell her that cooking kills the cysts of parasites we would very much like not to contract as well as a number of bacteria we do our best to avoid. Most importantly I try to tell her that the very act of “cooking” implies that heat is being used and that heat is, by very definition – hot.fire

Then I try to tell her to just wait a minute and it’ll cool down enough to eat.

Then I try to tell her that it is cool enough to eat.

But when she pokes it with the end of her dainty finger she still finds it to be higher than her 98.6 degree body temperature she howls at me again- clearly I was trying to trick her into scorching her mouth with food that is certainly still, by her definition, “too hot!”

Eventually, because thermodynamics is a real thing, the food is no longer “too hot” to her sensitive touch and she eats a bite but by then…. you guessed it…

It’s too cold.

 

 

 

Finding Time

People still ask how I have time for social media things and blogging in particular. The answer varies, sometimes I purposely carve out time for writing and photos and editing and sometimes, like today, it just happens.

Two years ago after ripping out old, high visibility, electric horse fencing that surrounded our orchard, I left it all in a pile under an apple tree in hopes that some benevolent elves would come and clean it up for me.

They didn’t.

Today I gave up on the kind elves (perhaps they are on strike?) and Jane and I finished coiling up all the strands.

By that I mean that Jane occasionally pulled on an end, often ran off to get more Halloween candy so we could keep up our strength and spent a fair amount of time inside the tangled mass of wire looking like a fly in a spider web while I wrestled a giant tangle of wire into orderly coils.

She was off on yet another candy run when I came to the end of one particularly long strand. Coiled on the ground it was fat enough that I couldn’t get my hands around it. It was unruly enough I couldn’t take my feet off it. And there was my duct tape to hold it in place… waaay out of my reach.

In other words I was stuck.

In other, other words that’s how I find time to social media.

Because when left impatiently waiting for Jane and her mini candy bars to come back so that she could hand me the duct tape, taking pictures of my predicament and putting them on Instagram seemed as good of a use of my time as anything.

That, as you see now, lead to mentally writing a blog post about the whole scenario and voila – social media time found.

 

That’s how I social media and, in case you haven’t noticed, I’m attempting to blog every day this month. I’m officially part of the unofficial NaBloPoMo (National Blog Posting Month) group NanoPoblano. There are lots of Tiny Peppers out there who would love your readership and support. Pop on over and check out this year’s blog roll and support a Pepper! 

Learning to Love Halloween

Here in Wisconsin with Halloween falling at the end of October, last night’s evening of trick or treating in the 50’s was down right balmy. In this fine state, it’s good to be a gorilla for Halloween, a full-sized bag of M&M’s would work nicely or if you dressed as the Abominable Snowman in his best rain gear, you’d be set for a night out trick or treating in Wisconsin – no matter what.

Of course, my girls have never wanted to be any of these things.Clara, Jane, Ivy and Storm

Which means that every year, (in the last frantic hour of leaving the house cause that’s how we do things around here) I’m promoting layers under costumes and (on exceptionally cold years) jackets over them. Last year, I gave up, threw my hands in the air and John and I just showed all the concerned parents that we did, in fact, have warm clothing and shoes for our poorly clad children… whenever they were ready for it.Jane and Ivy

This year, they did better (perhaps last year’s cold toe memories did some good?) and when I talked up the benefits of layers under costumes, I was at least partially heard, some layers were added but, of course, not quite as many as were recommended…

And so, last night, while following chilly children down the sidewalk, I decided I had it all wrong. I’ve always hated Halloween (except for those tiny Milky Way bars) but I should love it. Because Halloween is the ultimate “I told you so” holiday for mothers. Not that I would stoop so low as to look my darling, freezing children with their shivering buckets of candy in the eye and actually form the worlds “I told you so.” (I mean, I do want them to share those tiny candy bars.) But I do believe at least one “Cold? Reeeaaally?! Huh.” may have escaped me.Jane

Eventually Glinda the Good Witch and I retired to the warmth of the truck, (those of us who live in the country have to drive into town to go trick or treating) which may have been because she was cold, though I suspect that was only a ruse (that girl is Elsa through and through and the cold has never bothered her anyway) and that the real issue was the miniature zombies in the dark. Tiny people dressed as zombies are terrible, please don’t let anyone convince you otherwise, and I was happy to sit in the warm truck with her away from those little, creepy, candy collectors.Jane

Now, I’m sure you are concerned about my mini candy bar collection with one kid out of the trick or treating. Thankfully our Wicked Witch of the West was not so wicked after all. She, the shyest of all, spent all night asking if she could take a piece of candy for her little sister and returned to the truck with an overflowing bucket for the good witch. And, luckily for me, her little sister is very good at sharing.Clara

This morning I’m thinking that Jane’s got the right idea. Next year I’m going to promote a Tinker Bell costume and make sure to casually mention that no one will ever know who she is if she wears a jacket over the top of it. Of course then the many suggested layers will be refused and when she inevitably becomes chilly I’ll still be able to roll my eyes in the dark, think a satisfying, “I told you so” and hide in a nice warm truck. As long as her sisters continue to be so generous we will even have a nice stash of Milky Ways at the end of the evening.

Perhaps I could learn to love this holiday after all.

Pumpkin Pictures

I am quite convinced…Clara and pumpkin

…there can never be enough pictures of kids with pumpkins.Jane with pumpkin

Or kids on pumpkins.Ivy on pumpkins

And I particularly feel there can never be enough pictures of kids with their Great Gramps and pumpkins.Ivy, Clara, Jane, Gramps and pumpkins

But, until next year…

the pumpkin mobile

…these will have to do.

I Can’t Keep Up

It’s happening. I’m turning into one of those old moms who says things like “I just can’t keep up with my children.”

And it’s true, I can’t keep up with them lately…

The girls and I get in the truck and buckle up for the half hour ride into the “big city.” This takes at least five minutes even though everyone can buckle their own seat belt and two kids cry. Always.

Since one kid is crying, that kid sticks with it. Then something happens with a water bottle and wailing ensues. Because of the pinching. Which is, of course, because of the unfairness of life, the universe, and everything.

I am informed of all these things at top volume.

I reply in my reasonable-yet-totally-pissed-that-I’m-having-to-have-this-discussion Mom voice.

No one hears me over the wailing and yelling.

I reply in my totally-pissed-I’m-having-to-have-this-discussion-because—pinching—seriously-girls? voice.

No one hears me over the wailing and yelling.

I reply in my I-have-had-enough voice and spew totally unenforceable statements at top volume (a skill that seems to come out best when I’m driving).

They hear me, and all wailing and yelling is now directed at me.

Slowly peace descends.

Then a tear-free chipper happy voice pipes up from the back “Hey Mom! Guess what so-and-so’s brother wore to school today? A fake mowhawk and tutu! Isn’t that crazy?”

Head reeling (I thought they hated me and were never speaking to me again) I start to respond in my Yay-we-are-all-friends-again voice.

But I get interrupted because of the wailing and demanding.

I reply in my reasonable-yet-totally-pissed-that-I’m-having-to-have-this-discussion—again Mom voice.”

No one hears me over the wailing and demanding.

I reply in my totally-pissed-I’m-having-to-have-this-discussion-because-sharing-is-just-something-you-have-to-do voice.

No one hears me over the wailing and demanding.

I reply in my I-have-had-enough voice and spew totally unenforceable statements at top volume (a skill I seem to be working on hard lately).

They hear me, and all wailing and demanding is now directed at me.

Slowly peace descends.

Then a tear-free chipper happy voice pipes up from the back, “Hey Mom! Did you know North and South America are only connected by a bridge!?!”

And I find it’s true. I just can’t keep up with my children.

 

What If It Was Your Birthday And…

Kids turn seven all the time.

Every day some kid, somewhere, turns seven.

But it’s not everyday that a girl who wonders things like…

“What if it snowed pockets…. What if it snowed pockets and you could just reach out and grab one and put it on you wherever you wanted a pocket… And then, what if, if you didn’t catch them, when they fell on the ground they turned into candy….”

… turns seven.Clara birthday hedgehog cake

Happy Birthday to a most imaginative girl!

 

A Wish Come True

Once Upon A Time…

A little girl brought to her mother a special stone from a far away land. The sweet child earnestly explained that the special stone was, in fact, a wishing stone and that they must both rub the stone and make a wish.

And so they did.

The bright and cheerful little girl wished with all her heart to become a fairy-princess-mermaid while her fair and tired mother wanted nothing more than an afternoon nap.  Sadly the world was a harsh place. The little girl had been born to common parents and even after her wish seemed to be entirely devoid of wings or tail. Her mother had dinner to make, laundry to fold and a lawn to mow, it seemed that neither of their wishes would come true. Undaunted they resolved to be hopeful.

There is always tomorrow and one never knows what tomorrow will bring.

Then, one fine day, a messenger came to the house with a mysterious looking brown box. They examined the box thoroughly but could find no markings that showed where it had come from. Mystified the pair opened the box and found a note within.

Hi Jessie, Sometimes wishes do come true! Now go take a nap! OOXX

Hi Jessie, Sometimes wishes do come true! Now go take a nap! OOXX

Under the message was a magical outfit that turned the happy little girl into the mermaid she had so fervently wished to become.

(She tells me this is how the fancy mermaids get their picture taken...)

(She tells me this is how the fancy mermaids get their picture taken…)

Mother and daughter were incredibly grateful to whomever sent the mysterious box and overjoyed to find that their wishes had indeed come true!

And they all lived happily ever after.

The End.

We really don’t know who sent it and Jane about fell over with excitement as she thanked me over and over and over again for the gift while I kept repeating that it wasn’t from me. She slept with it under her pillow that first night to keep it safe!