Tag Archives: kids

The Kiwi Crate Blog

When visiting my blog you’re much more likely to come across a muddy kid, a dead animal, or a sleeping dog than any sort of crafting post.

That’s because I sort of hate crafting things with my kids.

I know it sounds horrible, but I justify my reluctance with the fact that I’m more open to it than John, who if given his way would throw out all the crayons in the house.  Of course Ivy and Clara love it when we (read I, the crayon-hater does none of this) set up any sort of crafting activity for them.  And that right there is the problem – the set up.

First I have to have an idea. I’m full of ideas, ideas for animals to raise, home improvement projects, dessert, kiddy crafting ideas… not so much.  Fortunately, thanks to the beauty of the internet, I can use other peoples’ ideas.  Believe me, if you’ve never done a little web surfing for kids’ crafts, I’ll just let you know that there are approximately seventy bazillion crafty blogs out there to choose from, all with fantastic super-cool crafts.   Just be careful because at least one bazillion will make you wonder, if these authors can make and decorate their entire home with the help of their smiling children (whom they have taken beautiful step-by-step pictures of)  why your big accomplishment of the day was to get everyone’s hair brushed.  Then, if by chance I happen to actually have all the needed supplies for the super-cool craft, (and brushed hair) I have to find said supplies,  set it all up, get the kids engaged and then finally finishing whatever it is because the kids get bored.  So there I am (with my brushed hair) sitting at the table by myself with a gigantic mess wondering why I bothered.  Needless to say a fun afternoon of crafting is not really my kind of afternoon.

Enter Kiwi Crate.

Kiwi Crate is a website that sells a monthly subscription where your kids get a crate in the mail with themed projects in them. Sounds awesome right? I agree, but we don’t do that. What I do do is follow their blog, and my very favorite part of the Kiwi Crate blog is Tuesdays, because Tuesdays are two ingredient Tuesdays. Crafts and activities that involve two common items, now that’s something I can wrap my non-crafting head around. Often it’s just something small to keep a kid briefly entertained , like putting a penny in a balloon. But that’s great because I have pennies, I have balloons and it will take me 45 seconds to put them together and if they hate it (which they didn’t, it was a huge hit) there is very little to clean up. Cookie cutter tracing was another big hit for the girls and today we added crayons to hot rocks for some melty fun. While today’s project was a bit messier than I normally undertake, I have crayons (because John hasn’t won the anti-crayon war yet) I have rocks and a bit of a mess was alright on a rainy afternoon.

The blog also has tons of other ideas, involving more than two items.  We’ve made marshmallow launchers and frozen toys in a big block of ice for excavation on a hot day and done some salt painting – all with stuff around the house. So, while I continue to figure out how I can justify the expense of the awesome sounding monthly crates (Damn Dave Ramsey, again!) I’ll be a regular reader of the Kiwi Crate blog. The girls are loving it, I’m enjoying it more than I would have guessed and the crayon-hater…  he’s hopeless!

OH SH–!

I try to watch my language in front of the kids, and I’m getting better at avoiding most of those taboo words… except for sometimes. Sometimes things slip out that shouldn’t and while Ivy never was much interested in any of the slip-ups Clara has an uncanny ear for them. While this is, of course, never good I do maintain that there are situations in which those words are, if not appropriate, at least capable of giving some measure of relief and satisfaction to a bad situation.
For instance lets say you were working out, and that the baby was happily bouncing away her in doorway, bouncer, thingy for the entire time. When you finish up and go to release her from her jumpy prison you are all smiles because you are so happy that she was so happy while you actually got a chance to do something for your self  and then you see it – The Accident.  The Accident that came running down both legs and puddled on the floor.

“Oh fiddlesticks!”

Nope, that just doesn’t cut it for me in a situation like that. Nor does “Darn!” really convey the complete feeling of dismay that is appropriate when the discovery is made that at least part of the reason she was such a content baby was that she was learning how to finger paint – with the portion of The Accident that came up her back.  And when you discover that the rest of the reason she was so happy was because of the fun she was having  squishing and smearing of mess between her toes…

Well other words just might come out – hypothetically of course.

And hypothetically if an older child is near by you might just hear, “What is shit Mom? What is shit?”

Ordinary Day

This is Jane

Now take away the backpack.

Add two pigtails.

Add one snotty noise, and a bunch of tears.

Then add the faint odor of baby puke, and one doozey of a fever.

Now you have a good picture of what Jane is like tonight and why my blogging hopes of book reviews, stories about sheep on the loose,the truck and the new chickens have all come to naught.

I leave you with a few words of Great Big Sea’s Ordinary Day:

“…It’s a double edged knife, but there’s always tomorrow…”
“…At the end of the day, you’ve just got to say
It’s all right.”

 

Chicago Driving

This past weekend we took a long overdue trip to Indiana to visit some friends. We had a great time, us adults had lots of time for visiting and catching up, the girls all played well together and their daughter even gave us a tour of the Notre Dame campus.

Thinking of the great time we had I was trying to mentally calculate when we’d next be able to get together when I remembered an itsy bitsy detail of the trip that was a bit of a problem – the drive.  Not that it was too far – no, it’s just that there is this place in between us, you may have heard of it, it’s called Chicago…

Ever since driving through the Windy City with Ivy screaming in the back (because that’s what she always did in the car as baby) and Henry the cat meowing incessantly (because that’s what he always did in the car) while I attempted to stay calm as I  crept along in traffic next to a semi whose trailer was burned out and swaying frighteningly in the breezes I’ve been a little twitchy about the whole driving Chicago with children thing.

I’m sad to report that the way over did nothing to calm my fears.

Construction appeared, traffic slowed down, kids started yelling.

It was like magic.

Dark, bad, black magic.

Fortunately, I was not the only adult in the car, the bad magic was short lived and we made it to our friends house…eventually.

Unfortunately, before I knew it our weekend together was over and it was time for the drive home.

The trip home started out great, we timed our leaving perfectly for Jane’s morning nap, part way through the drive we stopped for a break/lunch/shopping trip/shooting/African safari/run/fish watching/turtle finding/tent testing at  Cabela’s (Best store to take a driving break in with little kids!) and got back in the car for the last half (HA!) of the trip.

Apparently we forgot that this was the half with Chicago in it.

John and I had just congratulating ourselves on our timing, the fact that our  two youngest were sleeping, decided on our route through the dreaded city and just about when we had finished patting ourselves on the back (Foolish, very foolish, never tempt fate, traffic or small children.) we looked up to this:

Which is precisely when Jane woke up and filled the truck with an unmistakable sound and aroma, and then proceeded to tell us just exactly how she felt about that. Did you know that when you combine crying babies, poopy diapers, traffic jams, questioning 5 year olds and sketchy neighborhoods time slows down?  I was paying close attention to the passage of time and I feel I can accurately report that  John found a very nice apartment complex with a few empty parking spots, (which we used to do the fastest diaper change ever) a mere 7 million hours and 57 minutes after Jane’s initial blast. If that’s not some sort of evil magic at work I don’t know what is!

No matter the cause we aren’t about to let it stop us from visiting friends and family on the other side. We’ll be ready to drive back around Chicago just as soon as our blood pressure comes down, our knuckles regain their normal coloring, and our kids have all reached the age of 18!

Just kidding.

I think…

Did I Just Say What I Thought I Said VI?

It’s been just over a month since the last edition of “Did I Just Say What I Thought I Said?” I think we are making progress. Not only has it been weeks since I’ve caught myself telling the children ridiculous things but I didn’t even yell it this time. When Clara marched in the house followed by a helplessly giggling Ivy, pulled down her pants and undies to show me the results of their mulberry picking. I didn’t yell. I just told Clara that she really need to:

“Take the mulberries out of your underwear!”

While the question of why she put mulberries in her underwear may never be satisfactorily answered. I find it equally disturbing that the thought crossed my mind that at least she was wearing the underwear. That’s right, mulberry filled underwear is actually an improvement from Clara’s usual completely naked state.

Father's Day with Great Gramps

She sheds her clothes when they get wet, when she gets hot, when she takes a nap, when she goes to bed, when they get food on them, when they get “too stinky,” when they get paint on them, and when they get cut “accidentally” with scissors… and that was just today.

Basically Clara spends 85% of her time running around naked. Unfortunately she also spends 25% of her time falling down and hurting herself. This means that her body is currently 75% covered in bruises, bumps and scrapes that would have been at least partially eliminated if the kid would just keep some underwear on.  Today we had yet another conversation about how if she had been wearing clothes when she fell down the stairs she wouldn’t have gotten scratches on her butt . Yet at least one outfit later into the day she was naked again as she tripped back up the stairs and added a few more scrapes to her collection.

Admittedly I’ve mostly given up the fight at home and just strive to keep Clara’s clothes on in public( Which is a full time job in itself. Have you ever shoved a dress back on a screaming girl at the library (it was wet), while holding a baby and checking out books?) and I have faith that one day she’ll put some clothes on in the morning and leave them there for the rest of the day.

One day she’ll believe me when I mention yet again that clothes would have saved her a bit of pain.

One day I won’t have to run back in the house for underwear because she’s trying to go to the grocery store in nothing but a short dress.

One day I won’t have to constantly enforce the, “No eating without underwear!” rule.

One day she’ll figure out that it’s better to keep your clothes on.

One day…

On the other hand Ivy with her advanced years is a quick study. She only hid in the stinging nettles once this morning before coming inside and informing me that that is NOT a good idea.  I’m certain Ivy is very glad she learned to keep her clothes on before she learned about hiding in the nettles!

A Girl With A Plan

Clara’s got plans for when she grows up.

Some of them frighten me:

“When me get taller me ride MOTORCYCLE!”

Some of them I hope she starts earlier than she has planned on:

“When I grow up into a Mom I make BREAKFAST!”

And some of them I have no doubt will come to pass:

“When I grow up into a Mom I say SHIT!”

It’s also nice to know that she’s not pigeon holing herself. She’s keeping her options open, willing to explore more than one possibility at a time…

“When I grow up I be a mom I read you books and I say shit.”

Clara – she’s a girl with a plan!

Next Time I’m Making Hotdogs.

Tonight John and I spent close to two hours making dinner.

Hamburgers with cheese sauce and, get this, buns.

We used ingredients from three different grocery stores.

I raised a duck for it’s eggs.

John shot a deer for the burger.

It turned out great.

First hamburgers we’ve eaten in ages.

Clara friendly hamburgers.

Clara ate two bites.

I gotta tell you, I love the girl, but two is not a good age.

“It’s Raining…”

One of the major problems I have staying home with three kids is that while I’m nursing the baby the other two are doing stuff. Some days they are doing nice stuff and some days are like today. Today I came into the kitchen and found that Clara discovered not only how to change the kitchen faucet from a stream to a spray but that you can also pull out the head of the faucet. I pull out the head of the faucet to wash large pans and clean the sink. Clara pulled it out, must have thought it was actually intended to be the worlds best water gun and got right to work spraying Ivy.

We’ve got good water pressure, Ivy got wet on the far side of the kitchen table.

This is sort of impressive if you don’t think about the fact that most of the water is landing on the floor, the counter, the paper, the microwave, the radio, the cell phone, the eggs, the vitamins on the shelves, the ceiling, the windows, the blinds, the leftover food waiting to go back into the fridge, the tin full of change, the chairs, the table, under the sink, under the fridge and in the cupboard.

But I’m the Mom, so I thought about all those things and was, shall we say, less impressed with Clara’s feat than Clara was, much less.

As Clara was doing her best to be a poster child for the terrible two’s and unapologetically running through the puddles instead of helping clean up Ivy chimed with, “It’s raining in here Mom.”  I looked up, saw all the water on the ceiling dripping down, took a deep breath, squashed my urge to strangle the kids, decided that while making them clean up their own mess was a good lesson it really wouldn’t do them any good if they were dead and sent them out of the room before I changed my mind.

Shortly afterwards while I was still fuming and sopping up water Clara danced through the kitchen with her underwear on her head on her way to brush her teeth. I took a picture.  As I continued cleaning I fantasized that in about ten years I could blow it up really large and hang it on my kitchen wall. Then Clara would be embarrassed and ask me to take it off the wall and I would laugh manically and say “NO! You were a rotten two year old who flooded the kitchen, the picture stays!” Unfortunately after looking at the picture I took I’m afraid I’ll hang it on my wall and everyone will tell her how cute she was even with underwear on her head. So much for that fantasy.  Next time I’ll work on something involving beaches. You know, if I closed my eyes and concentrated I’m pretty sure I could turn that big puddle on a gritty floor into the oceans edge on a sandy beach…. now where’s my drink with the umbrella in it?

Bug Eyes

I am shamed to report that I have backed out of a pact with my husband.

We stood in the kitchen and pinky swore. John promised never to wear Crocs and I promised to never wear giant, bug eye, sunglasses.

I have broken the pinky oath.

I now own, and wear, bug eye sunglasses… with sparkles.

Oh, what a change…

My birthday was last week and for weeks prior Ivy had been telling me that she bought me a present with Grandma Mary. Ivy kept her present secret all the way up to my birthday and when the time finally came to hand over her little box she was grinning ear to ear and about to burst with excitement. Looking behind her to the grin on my Mom’s face it was with a bit of trepidation that I opened her gift.

Ivy had got me sunglasses for my birthday. My very observant and thoughtful daughter remembered that I left my old sunglasses in a friends car over the winter and hadn’t yet got a replacement pair.  According to all reports, she picked them out herself. This I do not doubt, they are large, they are round and they have sparkles. They are Ivy sort of glasses, they are glasses Fancy Nancy would be proud of, they are not unfashionable, hooded sweatshirt and jeans wearing, Mom glasses.

Oblivious to the giggles of my rotten family who were enjoying watching me squirm, Ivy beamed with pride in her gift she leaned in and said, “Don’t worry Mom, if you lose these, I can just get you another one!” And so, I did the only thing a mother could do when faced with ugly glasses and a child beaming with pride. I ignored the snickers of my family, mentally discarded my half formed thought of losing the things, (Ivy was clearly ahead of me on that one), put on my new sunglasses and gave my daughter a big hug as I assured her that I was indeed so happy that she got them for me.

Here is the paragraph you should skip reading if you own these types of sunglasses, that way we can still be friends.  Prior to my birthday I had just assumed that people who wore gigantic sunglasses blindly followed fashion trends without caring or realizing they looked like a bug. Because, clearly if they had thought about it they would realize that looking like a bug is a bad idea. No one looks at a woman masquerading as a bug and thinks, “Now there’s a smart lady.” Nope, bug looks elicit other less kind thoughts about the intelligence of the wearer, (trust me on this one, I’ve made them). Which is why many months ago in the kitchen I had swore to John that I would never wear glasses that made me look like a bug.

But that was, as I said, prior to my birthday. Now I know, it’s possible that there are other reasons to wear ridiculous sunglasses and I am reminded once again why it’s recommended not to judge people. You just never know, perhaps other women also have daughters that are as thoughtful as mine.

Ivy’s thoughtfulness didn’t end on my birthday. No, she makes sure I do not forget my new sunglasses when we get in the truck and if I happen to be driving when it’s sunny out she helps me remember to put them on in case I forget.

She is so very proud to have picked out such a perfect gift for me.

So, while I am shamed to report that I have broken a pinky swear with John, I just can’t help but wear my new sunglasses with pride as I think of my thoughtful daughter….

Picture by Ivy

…at least so long as nobody is looking!