Holy Week Meditation: Well, Duh!

I'm reading through the account of the final days before Jesus' death and resurrection in the gospel of Mark. Each day I'm trying to follow what Jesus did and said on that particular day of the week. Yesterday I was shocked at Jesus' cursing of the fig tree. It was supposed to be bearing fruit, but it was bare - a foreshadowing of what he would find in the temple in Jerusalem. His indictment of the goings-on there was just as strong.

The next day (Tuesday) finds Jesus and his disciples passing by that same tree. In one day it has died and withered from it's roots. The disciples are surprised at this. I don't scoff at their "well, duh!" moment. When Jesus explains that even greater things can be accomplished by them through prayer it reminds me of all my surprised reactions to answered prayer. "Well, duh!", I often have to remind myself. "You did pray for that. What did you expect?".

Then I go on in the story and find the tension beginning to build. All of those who are threatened by Jesus come to him in turn trying to catch him with crafty questions. They're looking for a basis to legally get rid of him. He's God. He doesn't fall for any of it. Nor does he shy away from them and their mistaken beliefs. His time has come. He takes them on in ways they don't expect. Did any of them see who He really is? The text doesn't say, but we certainly get the impression that even if they did, they're not about to bow the knee.

The juxtaposition is stark. Jesus continues to teach and encourage his disciples. He pours into them what they'll need in the days and weeks to come. But for his accusers there are no more answers, only questions, only exposing their faked arguments. Jesus never minced words for the "white-washed sepulchers" around him, yet there is an in-your-face feel to what is happening here. His face is set on the cross. He has wept for Jerusalem. His time has come and he is not about to shy away. What a blessed Savior!

As we prepare for Easter consider your own faith. Do you wonder at the power of prayer, even though it's been promised to you? Do you feel the weakness of your faith exposed in those "well, duh!" moments? Are you ready to be encouraged? Or are you simply challenging Jesus and His authority in your life? Do you throw out red herring arguments about issues that aren't really even a part of your life hoping He'll go away? Do you have ears to hear the real answer? It's Holy Week. Good Friday approaches. What do you make of all this?

Musing on the News

A couple of news bits in the paper today caught my eye:

• San Francisco's Board of Supervisors has voted to ban plastic bags from supermarkets. Woo hoo! A small step in the right direction toward ridding our world of this evil. Of course I don't know if that means they've banned just the handled plastic bags they use at the checkout or if that includes those fantastically frustrating produce bags.

• Oprah has chosen Cormac McCarthy's book The Road for her latest book club selection. If you look at my list of current reading on the sidebar, you'll see it there. I'm trudging through it based off a recommendation on Marcus Goodyear's blog. I say "trudging" because it's depressing material - the world has been burnt to a crisp and this father and son are hiking south to the ocean in hopes of... well, I don't know what. There's not much to hope for in the world McCarthy paints. I can't read this at night; I have enough apocalyptic night terrors as it is already. And my daytime schedule allows for little reading. So it's slow going, but I hear it's worth it. If you can find a copy at your library after Oprah's announcement maybe check it out. And then check out something more upbeat like one of the Shopaholic books to go with it for balance.

Mega Cooking

I can't stand cooking. Next to grocery shopping it's my least favorite chore. And to me it is a chore. Laundry is tedious, cleaning a pain, but cooking is downright troublesome for me. Not that I'm a bad cook. I can make most recipes turn out fine. I just don't enjoy doing it. Or planning it. Or shopping for it.

Then at the Hearts at Home conference a couple weekends ago I heard a speaker talk about the benefits of freezer cooking. So I picked up the Freezer Cooking Manual, browsed through the recipes, and made a list of chicken recipes to try. I found chicken on sale (though not the deal Llama Momma found) and bought a bunch of packages.

Saturday I cooked. For four hours. Since I was only doing single recipes to see what my family likes it wasn't nearly as efficient as it was supposed to be. At least that's what I'm hoping. In four hours I only put away four entrees and four sides. The idea is to spend 8 to 10 hours and get 30 entrees put in your freezer. The problem is I still don't like to cook, especially not for 8 hours straight. But I guess those 8 hours would buy me a month of no cooking. So maybe it's worth it. If I could just work a little faster and maybe with a friend.

I'm not giving up on it yet. Eating from the freezer could be my salvation. In fact it actually saved my exhausted body on Saturday night. We had frozen pizza.

To My Not-So Timid One

"When I was One,
I had just begun.

When I was Two,
I was nearly new.

When I was Three,
I was hardly Me.

When I was Four,
I was not much more.

When I was Five,
I was just alive.

But now I am Six, I'm as clever as clever.
So I think I'll be six now for ever and ever."

from Now We Are Six by A.A. Milne

Happy Birthday to my favorite six-year-old!!

Our Furry House Guest

This is Guiness. He was my sister and brother-in-law's dog until they moved away into a pet-free apartment. Now he lives with my parents. BUT... when they travel he comes to stay at our bone-and-breakfast. Since my girls keep begging me to get a dog, I look at this as a symbiotic deal: my parents get free dog-sitting and we get a "pet" on loan (kind of like being a grandparent - all the fun without the long-term hassle).

We've done this before. So he knows us and we know him. We know that our backyard is his playground and a quick walk to the corner will usually get the job done. And we also know that once our children are in bed he'll be looking for extra attention from us big people. He knows he'll usually get it.

He's honestly a great dog to have around. And I'm not a dog-lover. This time around he's here for a total of two weeks. I think my girls will really cry when he leaves this time, after all, he is kind of like family by now. And I'm starting to think we're almost ready to have a pet in our home (besides beta fish - we haven't gone back to try a third time yet). The girls really do take good care of him.

The real reason I think it might not be too bad to actually have our own dog? I don't mind the late-night walks before bed any more. And it's only March, so it can be pretty cold out there at 10pm. But those walks have gotten me to slow down, even for just five minutes. I get to breathe deep the night air and gaze at the stars. I begin to unwind and soak up the silence.

Sometimes the early morning walks are even better. The sun is just peeking over the horizon when we go out and the chortling of birds is pretty much the only sound. I savor the continued peace of daybreak, the calm before the chaos.

Having a dog around has introduced me to a new exercise in "being still" and finding brief moments of solitude outdoors.

(Btw: I'm not saying I want to do this every morning or night, in case A Musing Dad reads this).

March Pampering

Indoor Gardeners
This time of year gardeners begin to map out their plans, start seeds and look longingly out the window at the ground waiting to be tilled. Encourage those green-thumbed ladies with this houseplant care kit centerpiece and flyswatter gift combo. This theme required very little manual labor to give our hardworking team a much needed break.


Houseplant Care Kit
one wire basket
pair of gardening gloves
garden trowel
plastic spray bottle
gardeners hand creme/lotion or wash
plant food spikes
packet of peet pots
small green plant
tissue paper

Tuck two sheets of tissue paper in bottom of basket. Arrange items in basket, beginning with larger items in center such as spray bottle and flower pot. Tuck taller items behind these such as plant spikes, trowel and gloves. Place in center of table.


Fly Swatter Gift
Our speaker's topic this month happened to be anger. Suddenly the fly swatter gift became a more comical addition to our tables (an anger management tool?). We found these cute ones at IKEA and really if they were just ordinary fly swatters they might not have worked as well. We used a cute flower-tipped clothes pin to attach a verse card to the top of each flyswatter. Then all we had to do was put one at each place at the table.

For more ideas like these and other information on creating inexpensive gifts and decorations, check out the new book, Pampering Gifts: Crafting a Ministry of Treating People Well For Less.

Dumb Injury Stories

It seems a lot of people have them. But some of us have more dumb injury stories than others. My most drastic (to date) was the injury I got last summer. I was trying extra hard to reach an itch on my back. Extra hard. Then suddenly I felt/heard a pop in my shoulder. Instinctively I grabbed at my shoulder and pushed to see if I'd dislocated it. Nope. I was so relieved. The next day it ached a little, kind of like a pulled muscle. Then the next day it hurt a little more. By the time I went to see a doctor a week later (after hauling furniture outside for a garage sale and regularly swimming laps at the pool) I couldn't even use that arm. The tendon was torn. That graceful incident took three months to "heal". I'm still working on regaining strength in that arm.

Well, this week I fell down our basement stairs. Luckily I had my hand on the banister and was able to catch myself before I went more than five stairs down. Fortunately it wasn't my right arm that born the brunt of the fall. I caught all my weight by hanging on with my left hand. I ached that day, but not much.

Guess what? It hurt more the next day and more the day after that. And now I'm noticing all those same symptoms from before (I hate the fact that I know what a torn tendon feels like). My range of motion has decreased, applying pressure with that arm hurts. But I'm not going to the doctor yet. After all, what are the chances of tearing a tendon in the other shoulder less than a year later?

Am I in denial? I don't know. I do know that I wish I could have more glamorous stories to tell about my injuries. Like I got hurt while skiing or sky diving. Or maybe I slammed into the catcher while sliding into home to win the game. Only one problem: I don't ski, sky dive or play softball. Do you think maybe if I lived a little more recklessly I'd be more fortunate?

Contentment Part 2: Cosmetic Contentment

It's been a long time since my first post on contentment. Maybe I've been more content since then...but probably not. What go me thinking about it today was a haircut appointment. You see, I've never been totally satisfied with my hair (well, maybe once). It is fine and limp and doesn't always do what I want it to do. I keep trying new stylists and new 'dos in an attempt to find that elusive "perfect style". Now, this is not something that consumes me. I rarely go for a haircut more than every two months and I'm usually willing to just live with it. I just wish it could be better.

What does this say about my contentment with my looks? I'm not entirely sure yet. But it does make me more cautious in my judgments of other people who are in pursuit of some physical "ideal". I used to consider plastic surgery an affront to the Creator. He made us the way we are and He didn't make all of us the same. To change one's face or body in an artificial way seemed to say what God made wasn't good enough. My old views would allow for exceptions on the basis of physical pain/discomfort and disfigurations, but that was it.

Like I say, now I'm not so sure. What made me change my mind? I colored my hair. I fell prey to cultural norms that say graying women are in their fifties or sixties. I wasn't content with letting nature follow it's own course because it seemed a bit premature. Here is the shocking discovery I made when I decided to use a color a few shades lighter than my naturally very dark brown:I looked better. People were complementing me all the time on my hair and only half of them realized the improvement was due to the color not the cut. Even men who aren't prone to giving complements were praising my hair. Weird!

So I had to rethink things. Would God have made me in a way that was less than ideal? Yes, I think that is a very real possibility. People are born every day missing limbs, having debilitating deformities and other physical traits that set them apart from the "norm". Are they less touched by the Creator? I would say not. Then is it okay to seek to improve oneself physically? And to what extent? Does this relate to our ability to be content in every circumstance?

"Gray hair is a crown of splendor; it is attained by a righteous life."
Proverbs 16:31

Sunny, 55 Degrees. A great day for

playing in the snow?! Yup. While out driving yesterday, we saw two young boys happily playing in a large pile of snow. We've had so much snow and cold in recent weeks that despite several days of spring-like warmth the ground is still somewhat frozen and those big mounds made by snowplows are remain pretty big.

My girls spent most of the afternoon out riding their bikes, drawing with chalk on the driveway and climbing in one of our smaller trees. My husband took advantage of the warmth to go throw a couple of rounds of disc golf (too mushy on the course for us to join him though). In fact, it seemed like most of our fair city was drawn outdoors by the hints of spring yesterday.

But these two boys fascinated me most. I was kind of jealous. I don't ever remember being able to play in the snow without being all bundled up and freezing my nose and toes. Yet there they were: no coats on, enjoying a sunny, warm day, building things with snow.

I hadn't noticed any snow before I saw those boys. Then I began paying attention. They hadn't found the lone snow pile in Naperville. There were others. Sure most of them were dirty, but they were there, largely being ignored by walkers and bikers, kids on swings and slides. We're all quick to rush onto the next season.

One thing about our culture is the penchant for the newest, latest, greatest things to come on the scene. But maybe sometimes it's good to savor the last bits of the old things, the old seasons, before they're gone, before we're just reminiscing about how it "used to be". In another few months we'll be missing the snow, but we still have the chance today to see it and touch it and enjoy it.

Now if I can just find a carrot and that old top hat...

Unanchored

I've recently begun reading Ruth Haley Barton's Invitation to Solitude and Silence. It seems especially appropriate for the Lenten season since I'm more in the mode for reflection anyway. And I'm finding that Barton has a lot to say that speaks to my life. She shares how in the midst of a hectic and busy schedule as a mom, church staffer and seminarian she found herself floundering spiritually. When she finally sought the help of a spiritual director, this is how that director summed it up: "Ruth, you are like a jar of river water all shaken up. What you need is to sit still long enough that the sediment can settle and the water can become clear".

That image has stuck with me. I'm in much the same boat. Busy with home and work, church and hobbies, I rarely take time to sit unless I'm reading or eating. And those things don't bring an inner stillness.

So I've been starting to practice silence, trying to learn to still my body, my thoughts, and perhaps eventually, my soul. In that practice a new image surfaced that describes my current inner state: a boat, unanchored and adrift in open water. Oftentimes recently I've found myself wandering my house, lighting on one task briefly, then drifting on to another. My days sometimes lack focus and purpose. The unsettled river water keeps the boat drifting. All the more reason to continue practicing silence. My soul needs that settling. And in some ways I don't think the concept is not too much unlike the idea of fallowing that L.L. Barkat has suggested on her blog.

Is your soul anchored? Or are you adrift?

"We have this hope as an anchor for the soul, firm and secure. It enters the inner sanctuary behind the curtain, where Jesus, who went before us, has entered on our behalf." Hebrews 6:19-20a

Homemade Chalk Boards

I've been wanting to share this new project for a while. I created several small kitchen chalkboards, for myself and for birthday gifts. They were very easy and lots of fun to make. And if you make your own chalkboard paint they're also quite inexpensive.

To create them I took a 2'x4' sheet of hardboard and cut it into 5 1/2"x 7 1/2" pieces on a table saw (actually A Musing Dad cut them down. I mostly watched). Then A Musing Dad helped me round the corners using his router and I beveled the edges slightly using a sander. You don't have to do the rounded corners and if you don't have a saw I believe hardware stores offer a cutting service where you give them the measurement and they cut it for you (don't know if there is a fee involved). So fear not if you don't have big power tools. You can still do this project.

Next you'll need to mix up your paint. You can find formulas on the internet under chalkboard paint, but the basic idea is you mix up colored acrylic paint (not latex), with powdered tile grout and a glazing medium (used for creating faux finishes). I only worked on small areas so I didn't mix much at a time. It works well to mix it up in an old margarine container because then you can seal the container between coats. This way the paint lasts up to two days.

Now paint your surface. I only painted the front of the board with chalkboard paint because the surface of the back is just too rough. I found a painting sponge to work better than a brush. The brush leaves too many marks. Let it dry for at least a half hour. Then sand with a fine grit sand paper to remove any extra bits of grout and recoat. When you're finished, rub across the surface with a piece of chalk to "prime" it.

I bought small plate stands at a craft store to stand them on. As you can see from the photo you can also paint terracotta pots for labeling windowsill herbs (or just for using as a small container or pen holder).

For more ideas like these and other information on creating inexpensive gifts and decorations, check out the new book, Pampering Gifts: Crafting a Ministry of Treating People Well For Less.

Repeat After Me

Over the past few days I've been learning the truth of an old Russian saying I'd forgotten: "repetition is the mother of learning" (of course in the Russian language it's a much more lyrical saying, but it's still worth repeating in English). I've seen it's value in more than one area:

Math: believe it or not, after only a few short days Little Miss History is becoming much more proficient at her subtraction facts. It just took a lot of drilling over and over and over, but enough repetitions and it began to stick.

Scripture memory: I've only got one verse to go and I'll have gotten all of Deuteronomy 6 down. My secret? I carry laminated verse cards in my purse. Then when I'm out and about I pull them out. Stop lights are good times to read them over. Then while driving I just repeat them out loud over and over until I get to the next light. Second-hand benefit? My kids end up learning along with me, whether they want to or not. They're a captive audience.

New skills: There's nothing like doing the same action over and over again to learn a new skill. For example, Musing Dad took Little Miss History skiing a couple of weeks ago. This is an annual tradition for them. Good father/daughter bonding time. This year after a 2 hour class with lots of up and down repetition on the slopes LMH had actually gotten the hang of really skiing, turning both directions and slowing down if she needed to. For further practice she and Musing Dad took the fast lift up and did a few runs down the green hill together, up and down. But then Musing Dad took her up and let her go down on her own while he did a couple of black runs on his own. Musing Mom's reaction when she learned this afterwards? Musing Dad, repeat after me: "I will not send a seven-year-old down the ski hill alone. I will not send a seven-year-old down a ski hill alone. I will not...".

Happy Birthday, Musing Dad!

Yes, it's Musing Dad's birthday today. I hope he realizes that he's one of the luckiest dads around. After all, how many dads get their own boy Polly Pockets for their birthday? He's guaranteed hours of fun playing with the Uber-princess now (at least that's what she's hoping).

Today is a virtual holiday in our house. Musing Dad was wise enough to take off work (especially since the girls have a break from school). We've already showered him with gifts and have plans for dinner at Famous Dave's tonight. Between now and then Musing Dad is allowed to do whatever he fancies. He's thinking of repairing our broken garage door opener, which is a fitting enough way for him to spend his birthday.

A little about Musing Dad that makes him so lovable: he loves Jesus, wrestles honestly with tough topics instead accepting everything he hears by rote, and works harder than anyone I know at whatever project he's given (except maybe painting because he just doesn't like to do it). He's a brilliant guy and a handyman to boot. In our nearly eleven years of marriage he has built and repaired hundreds of things: rolling appliance cart for our pantry/kitchen, pinewood cars with our girls and a beautiful wood shelf for me, among them. He's replaced lights and plumbing, done drywalling, and has probably tackled every kind of home repair project possible.

So raise a hammer in honor of Musing Dad! Happy Birthday, hon!

Math, Math, Math

Ugh! Little Miss History is having trouble learning her math facts. And I have no idea how to effectively help her. We do flashcard drills. No dice. We try worksheets. No go. I set her up on the computer doing games and problem sets. But she doesn't get it.

This is reason number two why I haven't considered homeschooling my children (beyond the summer months). My daughter has no desire to be taught by me. I have no idea how to reach her. We both end up incredibly frustrated.

Here's the thing: she's got to learn them. I'm not sure she even understands that part. She works her hardest to just get through the drills or worksheets, but never puts any effort into actually learning. And she also doesn't seem to get that it's just a matter of memorization (which she's good at). She constantly counts in her head instead. It's slow, but she gets to the correct answer and as long as it's not a speed drill then she's fine. Guess what? At this point in the school year it's all about speed.

The thing about this is, she's a bright girl. Most things come easily to her. So actually I'm glad she's hit a wall as early as second grade. It's easier to figure out how to work at learning now than to suddenly face it in high school or college. At least I think it is for her. Just not for me.

I'm in Business

officially speaking. In another small step on the long journey to launching my book, I drove to the county clerk's office today, paid my five dollars and set up my freelance writing & publishing business.

It was one of those milestones in life that arrive without fanfare. It was mildly reminiscent of the day I walked into that same clerk's office to get a marriage license. That day I was accompanied not by my three-year-old daughter, but by the love of my life. I was awed by the process. As we submitted forms with our place of birth and date and place of marriage, I remarked to future Musing Dad that we were creating geneaological records. Someday long after that, once we'd been personally forgotten, maybe someone would look at those papers and recall the marriage of these two people from whom generations had been descended.

It wasn't as starry-eyed an experience this time of course. The uber-princess let out periodic squeals as she played her GameBoy while leaning against my leg. The clerk had to reinput the data a couple of times. And I got a paper filled with legalese on my next steps to getting my business certificate.

But as I drove home I dreamed of what the future could be for my business. Someday I might be selling hundreds of books while traveling around giving talks. I'd have a healthy portfolio of corporate clients. I'd be a regular contributor to a magazine or two. I'd be getting my kids off to school and going into my home office to work on writing my novel until they arrived home at the end of the day.

And then I pulled my car in the drive, helped the uber-princess into the house and shelved the official business forms so I could move the laundry into the dryer.

Lenten Memory Challenge

When was the last time you memorized something? High school? College? You can't remember?

I'm continually working on memorizing something. It's usually a chapter of the bible. This school year I'm working on Deuteronomy 6. I'm on verse 22 now actually. If you want to test me on this and you know me personally, go ahead, ask. If you can stand to listen that long, I'll recite the first twenty-one verses for you.

Now, it's not that I'm a "super-Christian" or Bible geek. I just happen to have connected with a good system for doing this. The mom's group I'm in has a "Scripture Memory Challenge". Every month during our season calendar (October through May) we have a chance to recite from one of two chapters of the bible. For every three verses we say correctly, we get to fill out a ticket for a drawing. And every month a name is drawn and the winner gets to choose a free book off the book table.

There are a couple of good things about this that make it work so well:

1. accountability: I know every month when I go to the meeting I have an opportunity to recite (or not).
2. long-term repetition: any one can memorize a short piece for a short time. But repeating the same thing over 8 months time puts it in to long term memory. I can still recite large parts of James 1 and it's been over a year and a half since I finished working on it.
3. goal incentive: that possibility of a free book is a major enticement for me. It keeps me going beyond learning just an extra verse or two each month to at least three.

By the way, it's no mistake that it's the Bible I'm memorizing and not Robert Frost's poetry or some other literature. I stand to gain far more than a free book. I'm setting myself up for better living.

How can a young man keep his way pure? By living according to your word.
I seek you with all my heart; do not let me stray from your commands.
I have hidden your word in my heart that I might not sin against you.
Psalm 119:9-11

Haven't figured out yet what you want to do for Lent? How about a 40-day memory challenge? Try to work those three points into your plan: find someone to ask you how it's going; work on a short passage, adding a verse every couple of days and do so for the whole 40 days (or however much is left now); and finally, plan an Easter reward for yourself for completely memorizing what you've chosen.

Are you with me? I'm still working on Deut. 6, but by Easter I plan to be to the end of the chapter and maybe on to Ephesians 5. Need suggestions for what to work on? Just ask. Let me know too if you're taking my challenge.

Smallness of Scale Meets the Toy Closet

I have a very busy three-year-old. She's always on the move. I give her something to play with and instruct her where to play. And she'll do that, for about thirty seconds or however long it takes me to turn my back to do something else. Then she's off for somewhere else, dragging toys with her. After only a half hour there can be scads of toys all around the house: Polly Pockets in the living room, Build-a-Bears in the den, puzzles in the kitchen and my daughter nowhere to be seen.

Once I track her down it's a major process to get it all put away. But we do and I go back to "here is your toy for now, play here". And she quietly resumes playing in the specified area. Then quietly she creeps away again, dribbling toys behind her like a little Gretel. I follow the childhood ephemera to her new location. And we go through the cleanup again.

I struggled with how to solve this for a few days. First I'd warn her that whatever toys were left unattended would be confiscated. But then my bedroom began to look like a Toys'RUs. Not a good solution. Finally I realized that a big source of the problem was the large amount of toys she has access to.


My daughter has too many choices in the area of toys. And so she chooses many, not just a few. To her the toy closet represents an all-you-can-eat buffet and she's ready to gorge. And the consequences stretch beyond just messes in the house to her ability to focus and her ability to accept boundaries, among other things. We're beginning to make changes.

I can't donate or sell all the excess toys. My husband doesn't care for that. He's good at re-purposing items which means they need to be kept "just in case". Plus in the toy arena there are a lot of hand-me-downs from the uber-princess's older sisters that she has yet to grow into or grow out of. But there's still way to much for any three-year-old to play with.

So I gutted the closet. The excess is still in the guest room, looking for a new home away from little hands. It's a work in progress to be sure, but the first reaction from her timid roommate sister was "that looks great, Mom!". Toys that had been neglected in the chaos are being re-found. The mess is...well, it still manages to spread across the house in the uber-princess's wake. But we're getting there. I may need to think even smaller scale.

P.S. Happy Birthday to my mother-in-law!

February Pampering

Whew! I was glad to see this month's pampering stuff finally get done. I've had clipboards in various stages on my dining room table for at least a month now. Plus 5 of us made 500 notecards. And then there's the 110 beaded pens, and 12 altered clipboards. That was a lot of work! I wouldn't recommend doing so much work, but it certainly turned out looking good. Here are instructions for our "Retro-Chic Office" theme.


Retro-Chic Desk Set
one altered clipboard (see instructions on Nov. 8th post)
one faux leather "in-box"
one plastic magnetic clip holder
one beaded pen (see instructions below)
set of four notecards (see instructions below)

Organize all of the desk items in the center of the table. We stacked the clipboard on the in-box and then placed the clip holder next to the clipboard and the pen and notecards on top of the clipboard (see photo above).


Retro-Chic Correspondence Set
micro "seed" beads
red-liner tape (we used ProvoCraft's Terrifically Tacky Tape)
stick pen
glitter
embossing tool
patterned paper
die-cuts
note cards and envelopes
glue

To create the beaded pen: wrap the red tape around the end of the pen (or you can continue wrapping down the length of the pen to bead it entirely). Remove the outer wrap on the tape and heat both the tape and beads with the embossing tool (take care that you don't melt the pen). Roll taped end of pen in beads, pressing beads in place and manually adding more beads to empty spaces. Dip beaded end of pen into glitter (we used red and black beads and then dipped in red glitter). Tap off excess. Allow to set up overnight before transporting.

To create note cards: Cut squares of paper to fit front of note card (1/4" smaller than note card front). Glue paper onto fronts of some cards. Punch out die cuts and glue to fronts of other cards - we used large retro fabric flower die cuts on some cards and pairs of retro fabric button die cuts on others. We also used flower punches of the patterned paper with brads in the center and on some cards we glued tiny real buttons with the die cut buttons. Be creative (and efficient if you're making 500). We tied sets of four note cards together with ribbon and tucked the pens under the ribbon on top of the note cards.

Happy Birthday, Mom!

I realize the day is almost over already. We got in at dinnertime from an overnight at a waterpark hotel. But I don't want to miss the opportunity to wish my mom a Happy Birthday here in the blogosphere (I did tell her in person this afternoon).

Here's one of my favorite stories about my mom:
Many years back, before ceiling fans became ubiquitous in most homes, my parents decided they wanted to buy one for the kitchen. They'd been out shopping, but my mom got stuck on the issue of how many blades the fan should have: four or five. Then at church she happened to notice the fans spinning overhead. They looked nice, but how many blades did they have? She stared and stared, trying to count the moving blades. Finally she turned to my sister (who had to have been about nine at the time). "How many blades are on the fans?", she whispered. My sister looked up and quickly answered, "five". Mom was shocked at her speedy answer. "How do you know that?" she asked. "Just blink real fast when you're looking at them," my sister answered. Mom tried it and it worked. She wondered if my then seven-year-old brother knew the same trick, so she asked him the question too. "How many blades are on the fans?". My brother responded even more rapidly, "five". This blew Mom away. "How did you know that?", she asked again. My brother pointed toward the back of the church and whispered, "because that one's turned off".

Thanks for making us laugh, Mom! We love you! And you know what? The mother's curse worked on me. I'm always doing the same kinds of things to make my husband and kids laugh too. Hope you had a wonderful day!

No More Pizzas. Only Noodles.

Public schools are getting more boring all the time. First it was no treats with nuts sent for special occasions. This is understandable. And only store bought, packaged treats, not homemade in case the psycho mom had thoughts of poisoning her child's class. Next it was no nut products in individual kids' lunches (what?! No peanut butter? The staple of a grade schoolers lunch?? I called them about it, after all, my daughter needs to eat. They relented since the kids with allergies sit at a separate table).

Then this year they started cracking down on sweets. No candy or any other food treat is to be sent to school for Valentine's Day or other holidays. Gotta take measures to prevent obesity! Thankfully the room moms are still allowed to coordinate treats for the whole class for parties. It's just that kids can't bring any in addition to those, which is fine by me. I'm waiting though. Pretty soon the party treats will go from being cupcakes or donuts to apples or something healthy. In my mind, that kind of negates the concept of "party" and "treat". Obviously you don't want your kids eating those kinds of things every day. But on a special occasion?? Isn't that why it's called a "treat"?

But that's not all. There's even more. Yesterday my daughter came home to reveal the change that broke the proverbial camel's back for this mom. She told me, "My very educated mother just served us noodles." NOODLES??? Who wants noodles? When I was a kid "My very educated mother just served us NINE PIZZAS."! These scientists have taken things too far! Why can't my kids have nine pizzas, even if they're "dwarf" pizzas? Why do they have to be served noodles? Any thoughts?

February Pampering

Whew! I was glad to see this month's pampering stuff finally get done. I've had clipboards in various stages on my dining room table for at least a month now. Plus 5 of us made 500 notecards. And then there's the 110 beaded pens, and 12 altered clipboards. That was a lot of work! I wouldn't recommend doing so much work, but it certainly turned out looking good. Here are instructions for our "Retro-Chic Office" theme.


Retro-Chic Desk Set
one altered clipboard (see instructions on Nov. 8th post)
one faux leather "in-box"
one plastic magnetic clip holder
one beaded pen (see instructions below)
set of four notecards (see instructions below)

Organize all of the desk items in the center of the table. We stacked the clipboard on the in-box and then placed the clip holder next to the clipboard and the pen and notecards on top of the clipboard (see photo above).


Retro-Chic Correspondence Set
micro "seed" beads
red-liner tape (we used ProvoCraft's Terrifically Tacky Tape)
stick pen
glitter
embossing tool
patterned paper
die-cuts
note cards and envelopes
glue

To create the beaded pen: wrap the red tape around the end of the pen (or you can continue wrapping down the length of the pen to bead it entirely). Remove the outer wrap on the tape and heat both the tape and beads with the embossing tool (take care that you don't melt the pen). Roll taped end of pen in beads, pressing beads in place and manually adding more beads to empty spaces. Dip beaded end of pen into glitter (we used red and black beads and then dipped in red glitter). Tap off excess. Allow to set up overnight before transporting.

To create note cards: Cut squares of paper to fit front of note card (1/4" smaller than note card front). Glue paper onto fronts of some cards. Punch out die cuts and glue to fronts of other cards - we used large retro fabric flower die cuts on some cards and pairs of retro fabric button die cuts on others. We also used flower punches of the patterned paper with brads in the center and on some cards we glued tiny real buttons with the die cut buttons. Be creative (and efficient if you're making 500). We tied sets of four note cards together with ribbon and tucked the pens under the ribbon on top of the note cards.

For more ideas like these and other information on creating inexpensive gifts and decorations, check out the new book, Pampering Gifts: Crafting a Ministry of Treating People Well For Less.

Snowed Out

They canceled school today. We stayed home. My children took turns looking out the windows at our back gate, watching the snow drift higher and higher.

"We can't get out that way," pointed out my eldest. Then a few hours later she went out to play in the yard and discovered the wind had hollowed out an area just inside the gate. It left enough room for her to squeeze out the gate into the field. Once she squeezed out she squeezed quickly back in, as if worried she might get trapped on the wrong side.

She and her sister had fun ducking behind the mound of snow - their little hideaway. I imagine it must have been cozy; protected from the wind.

When I was a kid we had a big snowfall one year. Or maybe it was a bunch of big snowfalls. I remember my mother cut a path into our back yard and when she finished the piles of snow were above her head on either side. Along the driveway the piles were massive (to my young eyes). Suddenly the terrain in our yard in the Land of Flat held some interest. My sisters and I dug tunnels and caves and trudged paths up hills and smoothed slides down them. We led expeditions of our friends through the yard, naming the moutainous peaks, pointing out special valleys.

Every winter after that paled by comparison. If there weren't mountains of snow to explore, then it was a bore.

I pictured that winter as I watched my children trudge and duck, exploring our snowy yard. Bring on the snowstorms! Pile up the snow! I want to explore!

"Manners for Minors"

Can you believe that's what they call the class I sent my daughters to this weekend? I don't know what I was thinking. Maybe that it would be a rush job in refinement. I imagined a subtitle: "Four hours to a proper young lady". Western Suburbs meets My Fair Lady. Bring on the debutante ball!

Okay, so they're only five and seven years old. But it's never too late to start. Right? So off to class they went. I trundled them into the local living history museum early on Saturday morning, visions of them with pinkies in the air sipping tea with the docents, puffing my brain. "Imagine it's like Felicity's tea lessons," I said. "You'll learn about being proper gentlewomen." Maybe I shouldn't have. After all, it's not fair to set their expectations too high.

Their reaction when I picked them up afterwards: "borrringgg!"

Imagine that! They were bored by learning the do's and don'ts for proper behavior in modern American society, including cell phone etiquette!

Well, actually I can imagine it. Even if it did take place at eldest daughter's favorite museum (she already has plans of becoming a junior interpreter when she's in fourth grade), it was still a class on manners. And finding out that courtesy requires effort can be a jolt. Especially in the current climate of our culture where familiarity is king and "casual" is the reigning attitude. It takes discipline to consistently behave in the best fashion. My guess is that that is the reason politeness has fallen out of favor.

Now for a confession: that class was merely a pretext to getting some time to myself. You see, my husband went away for the weekend to a conference. And I'm not used to lengthy tours of duty as a mom. So I shipped the older two off to class for a few hours, gifted the uber-princess to her grandparents for the morning and headed to the local scrapbooking store where I had some blissful time alone. The girls thought the class was boring? That just shows me that I have some work to do on teaching them the value of others. They need to know the reasons behind the manners. In the meantime, I not only survived a weekend as a single parent, I actually enjoyed it! (Kudos to all you moms who live this, week in and week out, with traveling husbands. I admire your stamina.)

Lessons from an Exoskeleton

I wrote this essay a couple of years ago, but Craver's post about a spider prompted me to get it out, dust it off and share it with you.

I have three daughters. They love Barbies and princesses and dress-ups. And bugs. The kind that creep and crawl. They like seeing them up close and watching them for long periods. I, however, do not. I try to stay as far away as possible. When presented with a particularly interesting (read "gross") specimen to view in magnified glory under the bug viewer, I attempt to hide my disgust long enough (because I want to be a "good mom") to give an interested impression. Then I hurry off to brush away all those creepy-crawly sensations.

But I realized recently in my entomophobia I'm missing opportunities to teach my children. Not just about the eating habits of slugs, but about life. And death. And maybe even other things.

One backyard find was what my husband called an "exoskeleton". I called it "yucky". It was a crusty, bug-shaped shell, that, from my preferred viewing distance, actually looked like the real thing. But it wasn't. And therein was a source for so many lessons.

Like a lesson on our bodies and how, like the shell, they're only a temporary home. Or how we see something and think we know what it is until we get a little closer to really inspect it (a lesson on not judging others, perhaps?).

So maybe I shouldn't be so quick to run from their shudder-inducing insect finds. Maybe I should be beside them mining our backyard for teaching materials...Then again, I might just stick to safer indoor subjects. After all, bugs make for good Daddy/daughter bonding. Don't you think?

Terrible Towels

Back in December when I was musing about contentment I mentioned some towels I was wanting for Christmas to replace my shabby old ones. I actually got those towels from my mother-in-law. So now I have these beautiful egg-plant/blue/red patterned towels that match my kitchen very well. They're micro-fiber (the new "in" material for whatever reason) and cost much more than the run-of-the-mill kitchen towel. In every way perfect except for one: they don't dry!

Now who out there would invent (and sell) a towel that doesn't actually get things dry??? I'm serious about this. You take that towel, wipe a wet pan with it and all that happens is the water gets smeared around. Pan:still wet. Towel: still dry. Something is wrong here. So there my towels hang, draped on the oven handle. They look pretty. But they do nothing. Knowing what they cost I have a hard time throwing them away. Yet I try not to use them for fear of frustrating myself.

It makes me think of something Jesus said in the Sermon on the Mount: "You are the salt of the earth. But if the salt loses its saltiness, how can it be made salty again? It is no longer good for anything, except to be thrown out and trampled by men." (Matthew 5:13).

If I had to draw a response to the Sermon on the Mount, I might draw a picture of my towels to remind me not to lose my purpose. Are you doing what you were created to do? Or have you lost your "saltiness" or become a towel that won't dry?

I haven't thrown out those old towels. They may be stained and full of holes, but they still get the dishes dry. And in the end, that's what counts.

Dental Diet

When I went to the dentist in December to have my teeth cleaned with a special new method they have, I had no idea what I was in for. Said cleaning came with special mouthwash ("rinse for thirty seconds, don't swallow water after. Avoid eating for several hours after rinsing or risk totally unpleasant taste."). It also required a three-month prescription for this drug (don't ask what it really does. It has something to do with improving gum tissue health). The drug instructions? Must be taken twice a day, one hour before or two hours after eating. That eliminates 6 hours of snacking daily, provided I remember to rinse before taking the medicine. Otherwise it's more like 8 hours.

Next I was in for a return visit to the dentist that resulted in a crown (my first ever - why does that make me feel so old? Shouldn't I be feeling regal instead?). So for three weeks I'm stuck with a temporary and instructions to avoid: hard raw fruits and veggies, hard rolls, tough meats - steak, ribs, Italian beef (!), bones & fruit pits (which has me really bummed - I enjoy a good crunchy bone now and then), hard chips like tortillas, popcorn, hard and chewy candies, gum, pizza, granola bars, nuts & seeds, and finally ice. All those things banned from my diet. Right before Super Bowl Sunday!

Oh, and don't chew on that side of your mouth, they tell me. The side I usually chew on because the other always hurts too much. Right. I get it though, because it actually hurts worse to chew with the temporary.

So where does that leave me? Six to eight of my waking hours with no food and the rest with soft stuff that I can only half eat (or eat only halfway. With half my mouth. You get the idea). I'd been looking for a way to shed a couple extra pounds, but I wasn't expecting it to happen this way. So if you've tried all the latest fad diets and they haven't worked, maybe you just need to pay a visit to your dentist.

Rollerskating

Believe it or not, we took our kids rollerskating this weekend. After the ice skating fiasco I was a little hesitant. But hubby was going with us this time so I felt reasonably assured we could make a decent go of it. Plus it was family night for all the kids in the Awana program my girls go to. If the rollerskating bombed at least there'd be friends to hang out with.

Guess what? We had a blast. All three girls left the rink begging us to take them again next year. It helped that it wasn't cold and when they fell they didn't get wet.

Of course timid daughter number two spent the first half hour sitting on a bench refusing to stand up. No amount of coaxing or bribery would get her on her feet. I gave up and her father took over with the gentle suggestions, appropriately timed. Finally she agreed to inch her way around on the carpeted area next to the rink. Fifteen minutes later she graduated to creeping a few feet along the rink before stepping out again. I figured that was all she'd ever do.

Cut to my three-year-old uber princess: she plunged out onto the rink almost immediately (holding my hands only at the start). Once I got her to the safety of the center of the rink she really got into things. Within a few minutes she was dancing up a storm, jumping, shaking her booty and waving her arms; generally just cracking me up. My eldest came over to watch and commented, "It's more fun watching her skate than skating myself." I agreed. And I couldn't help looking wistfully at timid daughter, wishing she'd join us.

I managed to get in a few quick loops of the rink on my own too. Not as fun for me as on ice, but enjoyable. Good exercise, I figure. I had just finished one of those loops and was going to check on timid daughter when I spotted her crossing the rink to the center, being gently guided by the uber princess who was sweetly holding her hand. What her father and I had failed to do in forty-five minutes, her little sister accomplished in two seconds. I wish I'd had my camera to capture that. Once her sister got her out onto the rink, the timid one managed to actually move around some and have fun.

I'm so glad my daughters have each other. And I'm glad I have them.

18" Doll Shoe Organizer

Here are the instructions for the fabric shoe organizer that I promised:
Supplies
5/8 yard cotton fabric (can use canvas too but is stiffer to work with) 1/8 yard medium to heavyweight fusible interfacing thread two large (1/4") eyelets/grommets

1. Cut fabric for back panel 9 1/4" wide by 25 1/2" long (these dimensions are for hanging inside the door of a doll closet).
2. Cut 4 strips for pockets 5" high by 15 3/4" wide.
3. Cut 2 pieces of interfacing 1 3/4" x 9". Fuse to top and bottom of back panel according to manufacturer's instructions.
4. Sew 1/4" hem along sides of back panel. Then hem top and bottom of panels by folding over 2" and stitching 1/4" from unfinished edge. (Hemming the back panel in this order leaves you open pockets along the top & bottom for putting a rod through. If you wish to eliminate this pocket, hem top first, then sides).
5. Hem each pocket top with 1/2" doubled hem (turn under 1/2", press. Then turn under again and stitch).
6. Hem bottom of each pocket 1/4".
7. Iron creases into pockets as follows (creating a "Z" effect):
1 1/2" from outside edges on both sides - press to front
2 1/4" from outside edges on both sides - press under (to back)
6 1/4" from outside edges on both sides - press under
7" from outside edges on both sides - press to front
8. Pin pockets to front at following spots, matching centers and folding ends over outside edge of back panels to back:
Pocket 1: 1 3/4" from top
Pocket 2: 6 3/8" from top
Pocket 3: 10 3/4" from top
Pocket 4: 15 1/4" from top
9. Stitch outside edges of all pockets to back panel 1/4" from edge of back panel (leaving z-folds of pockets free). and again 1/8" away.You can see here that the pockets are stitched on the sides but not yet on the bottoms:
10. Stitch down center between pockets
11. Stitch across bottom of each pocket 1/4" from edge, making certain pockets are folded down.
12. Apply eyelets having centers of each 7 1/4" apart and 7/8" from top of panel. Follow manufacturer's instructions for applying (this is based on placement of hooks at 7 1/4" apart. You may need to refigure placement of eyelets based on your own hook placement.
Here you can see the finished organizer hanging from the eyelets.


You can also make a French Memo board to go on the door.

I'm Back!

It's been relatively quiet in the blogosphere (the corners I frequent most often, at least) in the past week as I've peeked in. I've been missing it. Still, in the interest of discipline I kept the closet door closed (thank goodness it's a walk-in. Can anybody tell me why I have four pairs of black shoes in there?). Now at last I'm finished. A year and a half long writing project has been completed and passed along. That may not sound that long to some, but for me it was just long enough. If I had the energy tonight I might do a victory dance. As it is, spending time curled up with a good book will be a wonderful way to celebrate.

I've been musing in those brief interludes of cooking and cleaning during the past week, but can't muster the brainpower to put them into words right now. So for tonight, I'll share my uber-princess' funny phrase from today: "Oopsie Daisy! Spaghettio!"

I'm Stepping Into the Closet and

closing the door.Why? My muse is gone or rather, is occupied. Which leaves me with very little to say lately, and what is left is barely coherent. I've been neither musing nor amusing. My children, who have often been called by the wrong name as of late, will attest to that. Their Musing Mom's brain is getting fried. So I bid you "das vydanya" for the next week while I follow my muse in completing the gargantuan projects on my plate.

In the meantime I leave you some photos and a promise. This is a cabinet my husband redesigned to fit my daughter's American Girl doll and accessories:

He did three of them in one weekend. Isn't he awesome (I can tell you his daughters certainly think so)? See that floral thing hanging inside the door?

I made that. It's a shoe organizer. I did two and it took more than just in a weekend. I'm still working on the third. But when I return I plan to post instructions on how to make one. That's my promise. If you want to know how my husband did the cabinet (and it cost a total of about $35 to do it), let me know.

The door is closing. Feel free to knock. I may answer. If nothing else, I'll "see" you next week!

January 2007 GEMS Pampering

Here are the projects we did for our January couple's gathering.

White wood trays with acrylic inserts accented by football field liners and topped with a football-shaped bowl, easy snack nut recipe, plastic cups and a bag of pigskin chocolates kicked off the theme at the center of the table. Each couple was also presented with their own set of elegant tumbled marble coasters.

Centerpiece -- Game Night Tray

15 x 11” white wood tray with handles and acrylic insert

12” x 12” football field scrapbook paper

football bowl

set of plastic sports themed cups

green cardstock

sweet/salty nut recipe (see appendix)

football shaped chocolates

bags of snacks such as Cheetos

Cut one inch off end of scrapbook paper and place in tray under acrylic. Wrap chocolates in plastic bag and tie with green raffia. Arrange bowl, cups, snack bags, and chocolates on tray. Create snack nut recipe card by printing recipe from Appendix and attaching to 4” x 6” piece of green card stock. Prop recipe card on tray among other items.

Pampering Gift -- Tumbled Marble Coasters

4 - 4” x 4” tumbled marble tiles

stamps (we used

Stazon permanent ink pad

3/8” adhesive felt dots

matte acrylic sealer

To prepare tiles for stamping clean all surfaces with a damp cloth and allow to dry. Stamp images on tile and set by blow drying with either a heat embosser or hair dryer. Apply one felt dot to each corner on bottom of tile. After images are dry, spray a light coat of acrylic to seal. Tie coasters into a bundle with ribbon or twine.

For more ideas like these and other information on creating inexpensive gifts and decorations, check out the new book, Pampering Gifts: Crafting a Ministry of Treating People Well For Less.

Which is Harder: To Start or To Finish?

I'm coming to the end of a very big project. And I'm terrified. Thanks to a deadline I keep moving along inch by inch, otherwise I might run away in fear.

What is it with that? Every so often I get working long and hard on something only to run into a few road blocks and quit when I'm close to the end. Or I procrastinate it to death.

Starting is rarely difficult for me. When I get an idea for something it often distracts me away from my current project. I want to get started and I want to do it now! Even if I can only get a little piece going I'm satisfied to see it get under way. I'm learning to discipline myself in this and reward myself with a crack at a new thing only once a current one is put to bed.

How about you? Which is harder: starting a project or finishing one?

Youthful Exuberance

I have three daughters. Do you know how loud three girls can get? I'm not sure I've found out yet, but mine are definitely approaching their limit. My husband blames me. I came home from an appointment last night to find the girls running through the house calling quite vociferously to one another. So I asked my husband what it was all about. He was bewildered.

"They were playing quietly until just now. They must have known you were home. You make them loud," he said.

I make them loud. Because I'm loud? Hardly. I love quiet. I love silence or peaceful music. I love soft conversation. Loud? Not me. And most of the time I can barely handle the noise of my girls. But I'm trying to learn to appreciate it because otherwise I'll miss out on some of the greatest moments of their childhood; those spontaneous outbursts of youthful exuberance.

Here's an example: my girls love High School Musical. In our house we now have both the DVD and the CD. They've watched the DVD at least twice and the CD is on almost every day. So earlier this week they decided they would put on a "musicale" (if you've seen H.S. Musical you know why). Our family room became the stage and the music meister (eldest daughter) loaded up the CD. With a fancy (pretend) microphone headset on her head and a set of earphones, complete with dangling cord, on daughter number two's head, they were set. Uber-princess donned not just one pretty skirt, but three at once. And then it began: singing at the top of their lungs they all danced and bopped around that family room, none of them missing a single word of the lyrics. It was riotous fun. I wish I could have slowed down to watch it longer. I wish I could have slowed down and loosed up enough to join them.

When was the last time you got loud and active and generally uninhibited like a child? When was the last time you enjoyed the youthful exuberance of a child? Take time soon to appreciate that more. Jesus said, "Let the little children come to me". Jesus took people the way they were. I'll bet he'd embrace the noisy, rollicking creatures that most children are if he walked the earth today.

Who Turned On This Crazy Thing?

I'm having one of those days - the kind where it's like you're on an inclined treadmill set on high. You're going as fast as you can and still keep losing ground. That's me. And I can't seem to get off. I've even slowed down to reassess and chucked all the plans that weren't on my immediate to do list and didn't have any sense of urgency. I'm only attending to what must be done. But none of it is cooperating and getting done easily. So what am I missing? Why is it all taking twice the time necessary when I only have half as much time as I need?

A pastor at my old church once talked about a mechanic he knew. This mechanic knew he was living right and pleasing God when his business brought in a lot of "gravy" jobs - those jobs that paid well but took little work. When he'd gotten off track with God those jobs would dry up and he'd get a lot of time-consuming, low paying jobs.

Except I don't think that paradigm fits my day. It started it off well with a good half-hour quiet time where I really felt connected with God. And my morning with the kids was fine. Time with the uber-princess was peachy. But all the projects and chores I've tried to tackle have gone painfully slow and somewhat awry.

And now the fish is sick. I think he's got Ick and my daughter blames it on me not taking good care of him.

I'm glad every day has only 24 hours. I might wish for more time to get stuff done, but I don't think that would help. It's better to get off this crazy thing and start new tomorrow. In the meantime, we'll have leftovers for dinner, get the fish some medicine and try not to pull any muscles attempting to stay on this speeding treadmill.

Epilogue: We ate leftovers. The day wound down and I regained my focus.Now it's Thursday morning and the fish is barely living.

On Thin Ice

I had such high hopes this morning for my kids' day off. I'd take them ice skating, for the first time. It would be so much fun! Immediately memories came flooding back. In high school my house was right across the street from a park that would be carefully groomed for ice skating all winter long. I'd get home from school and go out to spend an hour honing my skills. I became pretty comfortable at it. By the time I took lessons in college I was ready to start learning some tricks. And during the free lunchtime skate hour I'd even begun working on simple pair skating with a friend.

Fast-forward to today. I'm ready to introduce my girls to this sport, sure they'll be so enamored of the grace and beauty if it that they'll be begging me to sign them up for lessons. When we arrived at the rink there were two girls in skating skirts getting ready to go out on the ice. Aha! Perfect for my plan. "Watch those girls while I get your skates," I told my daughters.

Half an hour later I finally had everyone's skates on and looped and fastened and tied. Eldest daughter had already tested the ice and was excited to really get out there. Then I turned to daughter number two. She was in tears.

"It's too cold," she complained. "My feet hurt. I don't want to do this."

"Just go stand on the ice and see what it's like," I pleaded. She complied. As soon as her skates touched the ice and she began to slide she turned around and stumbled back off.

"I don't like it," she pouted. Back went the skates to the rental office.

My uber-princess was still out on the ice with her sister, slipping and tumbling. A young figure skater suggested I tighten her laces. Then I saw another preschooler going onto the rink with a set of chair legs. That was my solution! I grabbed a set for uber-princess and propped her behind them.

"Try these," I said. And off we went, slowly inching around the rink. One trip around. That's all we made before she gave me the same complaints as her sister. Back went her skates. I took the younger two up to the viewing stands and made my way back to my eldest on the ice. She was slipping and sliding and doing everything but skating. It took some coaxing, but I finally convinced her to let me tighten her skates some more. Then she was off and skating. Still falling and mostly shuffling, but over the next half hour she made a lot of progress.

There were more tears from her sisters ("we're bored. We're cold. When are we going home?"). And then the time was up, the morning nearly a waste. As we took off our skates I consoled myself with the fact that at least one of my children had enjoyed our outing. And then she began crying. Her toes hurt. Bad. I tried to explain that it was just part of skating. It was merely from the cold. My toes hurt bad too. But that didn't matter to her. She just kept crying. So much for my dreams of a fun day-off activity that would launch a new hobby for my children.

As for me, I'd taken a dozen or so trips around the rink - my exercise for the day. It felt good to have the ice under my feet again. I'm not limber enough to do the moves I'd been learning when I was younger, but I was still steady, still able to do crossovers and skate backwards.

I don't think I'll be getting the mom-of-the-year award for my attempt at fun today. Which makes me wonder, why is it so hard for my kids to have fun trying something new? Why is it so hard to be a mom who wants her kids to enjoy the things she enjoys?

Girls & Video Games

I have three daughters. I assumed this meant our house would be filled with dolls, but relatively free of video games. Guess what? In this day and age girls like video games. Why? Because the video game companies have figured out how to market to them. I learned this three years ago when, for Christmas, my own hip and cool mom gave her granddaughters (who were 3 & 5 at the time) each their own Game Boy Advance. This was partly to benefit my husband and I for the trip we were planning to take, by car, to Disney World. Along with the GBA's my girls got Disney Princess and Polly Pockets games. Totally girly. My husband reluctantly played them on the car trip because what else was there?

By now we've accumulated a collection of Dora the Explorer, Strawberry Shortcake and Princess games. Even my husband has his own "Simpsons Road Race" game for the GBA. But what about me? I used to get asked to "help me get up into this tree, Mom", but now they've all mastered the games enough not to need my help. Even my uber-princess, after years of sharing her sisters' systems, got her very own GBA this year for Christmas. On the rare occasions I let them pull out their games I immediately get shooed away. Sometimes they'll let Dad play so they can watch him totally rock his way through to the higher levels. But not Mom.

You know what I'm thinking? I'm thinking a new Pink Nintendo DS Lite would get me out of the video game dumps. After all, daughter #2 had a DS at the top of her Christmas Wish List. Since she didn't get it that would make me super-cool in her eyes. And I happen to know from an expert (my nephew) all the features and benefits that make the DS superior to the PSP. I had a wonderfully long conversation with him a month or two ago where he brought me up to speed on the portable game systems. Come to think of it, having my own DS would make me hip to him too (my sister-in-law quite regularly outdoes me in the hip & cool department with her iPods and camera-phones, exotic vacations and theatre outings. I could use a turn being top "Hip Mama" in our family).

Why do I say all this? Because Crazy Hip Blog Mama's site has a Nintendo DS/Brain Crazy contest going on. Don't you think I deserve to win?

Supermarket Survivor

I think I was filmed today for a new reality TV show. Only a guy didn't suddenly appear with a microphone and cameraman to tell me they'd caught me on film. But maybe they're saving that for a future episode.

It's called "Supermarket Survivor" or "Rage Among the Radishes". You see, the grocery store sets it up by placing these incredibly frustrating plastic bags in their produce section. Then you (or me), the unsuspecting shopper go to actually use one of these plastic bags to carry your produce. You select your bell pepper (or squash or mango or jalapeno). Then you innocently grab a plastic bag that supposedly was placed on a roll near the produce for your convenience. That's when they get you. You see, those bags are part of the reality show. They are formulated with a special glue that does not allow to the bag to come open until, in utter exasperation, you rub it rapidly between your hands. The friction produces a glue-melting heat. Then the end of the bag separates, slightly. If you managed to rub the right end. If you even found the end.

I was standing next to a gentleman in produce today as we both shook and raged at the plastic produce bags. I glanced at him. Then I glanced up and noticed a tv monitor. We weren't on it. But maybe there was a camera hidden behind it. I suggested something like that to him, like maybe we were going to be on this new reality show. He laughed a short laugh, got his bag open and hurriedly stuffed his pepper in the bag while scooting his cart away from me. I flipped my bag over and wrestled it some more. Finally the ends parted. I don't think I won.

Anyway, if they weren't taping me for a reality show I think I'll send my idea to the networks. There's a lot of frustration to be tapped into among the rutabagas, at least when I'm there.

Disaster Averted

Imagine standing in the street next to your minivan, cellphone to your ear, motioning to your children to settle down in their seats. It's dark. You're cold. As you wait you hear the sound of sirens approaching. Then in the distance you seeing the flashing lights. Suddenly they're upon you, blinding your eyes, your children's eyes. You watch as the firemen jump out of the truck and carry their equipment into your house.

You open the van door and poke your head in. "Where will we eat dinner?" your youngest whimpers. Her sister anxiously asks, "what about the Rhubarb the fish?". You inhale deeply and ask if they all feel okay, wondering if your own headache is just from the tension. They're all fine. You're fine. Soon the firemen emerge from your house. It's fine.

Yeah, that was me last night. I was simmering some apples on a low flame last night to make apple pancakes (breakfast food for dinner!). I was also helping with homework and generally being distracted by my children. The flame went out. I kept stirring, not noticing. After a bit I realized my children had left the video game and TV on so I went to the basement to turn it off (it's a complicated setup so I don't expect them to do it). While I was down there I noticed the smell of gas. The furnace had kicked on. But as I went up the stairs the smell got stronger. My apples weren't cooking. The pot was cool. The burner was still turned on.

Thankfully I realized our problem immediately. I sent the children out of the house and began opening windows and doors. My only mistake was that I turned on a fan and turned off a light. Never do these things. They can cause a spark and...

Well, I'm so grateful we're all okay. As I followed my children out of the house I thought, "well, it might all be gone". But I'm a pessimist by nature, so I'd already thought that one through. Most days I think to myself that it could all be gone in an instant. I could be gone. Pessimist. Realist. Sometimes it helps me realize what's important. Yesterday I was very glad to be able to go back inside and eat breakfast food for dinner. My daughter appreciates her pet. We're lucky to have each other.

The Sky Is Falling

Have you noticed in the papers lately how the media is getting all worked up about the unseasonably warm temps in parts of the U.S. this year? I blame Al Gore. His movie (I actually read part of the book before it was due back at the library), An Inconvenient Truth, has the global warming idea on the top of everyone's minds. Is it making any difference? Hard to say at this point, other than getting a large crowd standing around saying, "The sky is falling! The sky is falling!".

I agree with Mr. Gore's intention (oh dear, is that the proper term of address for a former VP?). I do think we need to be more careful about our stewardship of planetary resources. Really I do. I even helped pioneer a recycling effort at my dorm in college. I try to limit my production of unnecessary waste. I fume along with my car when stuck in heavy traffic. And I wonder if any of us are doing enough.

But back to the media. I think there's one really big point they're missing. The earth was not made to last. If you read the Bible at all and believe what it says, it's going to be all gone one day. But the good news for us is that we were built to last (makes me think of the chorus from one of my favorite Lost Dogs songs). And for those who know Jesus we've got a new earth coming that will be even better. If you think otherwise, say so . I'm not an apologist so I can't say I'll have answers to convince you of my side. And certainly if you disagree with me you'd better listen to the media. Because I think they're right. The sky is falling. The question is: "how quickly?".

Rollabind Notepads

I got a fun new tool for Christmas. It's a Rollabind punch set - it punches paper for binding with plastic circles. So I can make my own books (no, this is not a start on self-publishing my book). Anyway, I had some fun with it on Christmas Day. Here's what I made:

It's a notepad. I created a "To Do" list template on the computer that I printed out and then cut to 8 1/2" x 3 1/2". I used heavy card stock for the front and back covers and mounted this Christmasy paper on top. The stamp is from TAC's "Tag Tidbits". Then I punched the top of the pages with the Rollabind and bound them with small discs. I realize without a Rollabind you're not going to just jump up and make one of these. But if you're looking for a fun tool for paper crafting, I'd strongly recommend this one. It's great for all sorts of different gift-giving projects, both big and small. Who knows, our GEMS group may end up with notepads or something made with it in the next year or two. Here's a link to some ideas of other things you can make with a Rollabind.


For more ideas like this and other information on creating inexpensive gifts and decorations, check out the new book, Pampering Gifts: Crafting a Ministry of Treating People Well For Less.

Reality Check Take 2

What was I thinking? A list of "goals" for 2007? Isn't that like setting myself up for failure and disappointment? Rather than join the legions of depressed Americans two weeks from now, I'm thinking I need a new set of goals, something a little more realistic. Something like this:

1. Play We Love Katamari at least once every day (like during nap time).
2. Serve breakfast foods for dinner on a weekly basis.
3. Get more exercise by making repeat trips up and down the stairs (while carrying heavy loads like laundry and uber-princesses) because I've forgotten why I was going up (or down).
4. Read and post comments to multiple blogs each day, sometimes even my own.
5. Avoid going to the grocery store more than once every couple weeks.

In two weeks when you're regretting the money you spent on that new treadmill and Pilates equipment, don't come crying to me. I won't be listening. I'll be busy getting in my daily round of katamari rolling.

Reality Check for 2007

Happy New Year! It's a fresh year, new start, all that good stuff. Have you set any goals for this year yet? The uber-princess said last night that her goal for 2007 is to learn how to play Polly Pockets better. And you know what? I think she just might attain that goal.

I've set a few goals too, some maybe not as realistic as hers but worth considering anyway:

1. Catch up on at least one daughter's scrapbook, preferably one of the ones containing photos only up until 2004. It was my goal last year, but at that point two of them only dated to 2002. I'm getting there.
2. Go see at least one live play (no dead ones though). I enjoy seeing them. I sometimes enjoy writing them. I just don't do either often enough.
3. Get my book published. Still waiting on those editors to respond.
4. Keep Rhubarb the betta fish alive at least to 2008. So far, so good.
5. Spend more time moving with my exercise videos, pint-sized naysayers or not.

There's more, but some I'm afraid I'll jinx by putting in print. Others aren't fully formulated yet. I do want to put in a small reality check here though. I think it's something worth considering on this first day of the year, to put things in perspective:

"Now listen, you who say, "Today or tomorrow we will go to this or that city, spend a year there, carry on business and make money." Why, you do not even know what will happen tomorrow. What is your life? You are a mist that appears for a little while and then vanishes. Instead, you ought to say, "If it is the Lord's will, we will live and do this or that." James 4:13-15

I don't know what will happen tomorrow or this year. I'm excited to set goals and work toward them, but I also acknowledge that it's not for me to determine. There will be detours and pit stops along the way. And I want to be prepared when they come. Lord willing, I'll check back on this list in December and find I've done things I'd never planned and learned things I hadn't expected. I'll bet I'll play a lot of Polly Pockets to help my daughter achieve her goal. And maybe, just maybe, I'll have gotten a scrapbook up to date.