why yes, oh-so-helpful-and-friendly target employee, my son is running around your store barefoot.
yes, i am aware that this is a public facility.
no, we do not belong to any sort of elitist group that prohibits the wearing of shoes to better unite ourselves with mother earth.
and yes, that's right, the floor is probably hideously dirty not to mention the possible sharp object looming nearby.
no, no, he has plenty of pairs of shoes at home--in fact, one of those perfectly functional pairs made the trip with us today.
where are they?
oh, silly goose, they're in the car, of course!
why?
well, it's this little thing i like to call picking your battles.
before engaging in combat, one must first assess the value of such an operation.
i like to ask myself a series of questions, as in the case of the shoe debacle:
one: will the absence of shoes put my child in danger? (see sub-questions)
a. will we be hiking in a pine-needly forest?
b. will we be walking on hot coals or some such toasty surface?
c. is the presence of broken glass, splintery objects, etc a likelihood?
i. if situation arises, ability to carry child until clear of danger?
d. will we be entering any areas prone to infectious diseases on their floors?
two: is my child going to be receiving a bath that evening?
three: will my child suddenly become power-hungry and view this victory as fuel for an overthrow in the future?
four: do i have a massive headache from all of the previous battles heretofore engaged in so far today?
this inter-cranial checklist can be performed in a remarkably speedy fashion once you've practiced it several times in the field.
when i've answered these questions (no, yes, no-but check toy box for possible takeover plans just in case, and jesusmaryandjoseph yes)
the consensus is "fine, but if your feet hurt, i told you so."
there are many ways in which this question and answer system can work for you in a potential battle situation. for example:
matching clothes
sleeping with hordes of stuffed animals.
matching shoes.
really anything to do with matching.
using the blue crayon vs. red even though the directions say RED crayon (please see next field instruction manual on "what to do when you're an ocd mommy").
i hope that installment of the question and answer system can aid you in your parenting success.
or at least help keep you sane.
Tuesday, October 30, 2012
Thursday, May 3, 2012
the act of dishevelry.
Our library has a fantastic program for summer mornings: toddler and preschool storytime.
Every Wednesday and Thursday from 10:30 to 11:00 you can take your kids for an educational and interactive book-reading.
Sounds like possibly one of the easiest ways to look like a great parent, no?
All you have to do is show up and someone else reads to your kids!
(Please note I do, in fact, read to my children on a regular basis, but when you take them somewhere else to do it in a public setting your parenting prowess just seems to jump a level).
I was extremely jazzed when I learned of this weekly activity and during the next week was patting myself on the back for my genius at finding it and how unbelievably more accomplished I'd be as a parent for involving my children in such an activity.
Remember how I said it seemed easy?
When Wednesday morning finally rolled around my expectations pretty much buried their heads in the sand and waited for death.
Not only is it monumentally frustrating trying to get your two toddlers out the door by 10:05 to make it to storytime before all of the good seats are taken, it is even more difficult to also put yourself together at the same time.
Why not just get up earlier and give yourself some extra time, you ask?
Because I am not, nor will I ever be, a morning person.
I can get up at 6 or 7, sure, but can I get anywhere with that extra time?
Nope.
To all of you morning people out there, I salute you.
Getting anywhere before noon is a giant accomplishment for me still-- three and a half years into this whole "mom" thing.
You'd think I'd get it together at some point.
It comes as no surprise, then, that I dashed out the door at 10:20 still in my pajama pants (thankfully also considered "lounge" pants).
I luckily had the foresight to throw a bra on underneath my shirt (although how much it mattered I'm not sure, the shirt had a large poop-looking stain on the front--chocolate, I tell you!--and I doubt after that if anyone would notice the bralessness).
This same careful consideration was applied to my hair and thus after determining that the third day in a row without showering (other moms of toddlers will hopefully understand this) was a hat day I threw the greasy locks under some Cubbies gear and considered it mission accomplished.
You know how you've got that fancy diaper bag that you're supposed to fill in an organized fashion because you got one with twenty-three different product-specific compartments in that super-cute pattern that you'll never get tired of?
Well I got tired of it.
All of it.
So on this morning I tossed a few diapers into my purse (along with a tube of concealer to dab under my eyes to conceal yesterday's mascara that had migrated and the occassional blemish), and headed out the door.
Upon our (late) arrival, it became painstakingly obvious that I was, in fact, pitifully under-dressed and under-prepared for this social function.
We squeezed between Mommy A with her designer jeans, professionally-dyed hair, and precisely applied make-up and Mommy B clad in her Puma tracksuit, sleek pony-tail and ridiculously complicated sneakers (I would question whether she actually worked out or not but her sculpted figure suggested he did in fact put in some time).
Awesome.
My lounge pants felt more and more like poorly disguised pajama pants by the second.
As if total humiliation as a female wasn't enough, Mommy A's children (with gelled hair and polos and khakis--are you kidding me??) came over and requested a snack, and parental humiliation ensued.
Not only did she have the fancy diaper bag, she also had pre-apportioned snacks in neat little tupperware containers at the ready to hand out to her children's waiting hands.
I tried to shoot her a look that said "I-don't-approve-of-snacks-during-storytime" but I'm fairly certain it still came off as "damn-I-wish-I'd-brought-some-of-those."
Thank goodness storytime is only a half an hour because any longer in that self-esteem trap and I think there would have been irreparable damage done.
Needless to say, we haven't ventured too many times back to story-time.
And when we do, I make sure that I at least put on my good pair of pajama pants.
Every Wednesday and Thursday from 10:30 to 11:00 you can take your kids for an educational and interactive book-reading.
Sounds like possibly one of the easiest ways to look like a great parent, no?
All you have to do is show up and someone else reads to your kids!
(Please note I do, in fact, read to my children on a regular basis, but when you take them somewhere else to do it in a public setting your parenting prowess just seems to jump a level).
I was extremely jazzed when I learned of this weekly activity and during the next week was patting myself on the back for my genius at finding it and how unbelievably more accomplished I'd be as a parent for involving my children in such an activity.
Remember how I said it seemed easy?
When Wednesday morning finally rolled around my expectations pretty much buried their heads in the sand and waited for death.
Not only is it monumentally frustrating trying to get your two toddlers out the door by 10:05 to make it to storytime before all of the good seats are taken, it is even more difficult to also put yourself together at the same time.
Why not just get up earlier and give yourself some extra time, you ask?
Because I am not, nor will I ever be, a morning person.
I can get up at 6 or 7, sure, but can I get anywhere with that extra time?
Nope.
To all of you morning people out there, I salute you.
Getting anywhere before noon is a giant accomplishment for me still-- three and a half years into this whole "mom" thing.
You'd think I'd get it together at some point.
It comes as no surprise, then, that I dashed out the door at 10:20 still in my pajama pants (thankfully also considered "lounge" pants).
I luckily had the foresight to throw a bra on underneath my shirt (although how much it mattered I'm not sure, the shirt had a large poop-looking stain on the front--chocolate, I tell you!--and I doubt after that if anyone would notice the bralessness).
This same careful consideration was applied to my hair and thus after determining that the third day in a row without showering (other moms of toddlers will hopefully understand this) was a hat day I threw the greasy locks under some Cubbies gear and considered it mission accomplished.
You know how you've got that fancy diaper bag that you're supposed to fill in an organized fashion because you got one with twenty-three different product-specific compartments in that super-cute pattern that you'll never get tired of?
Well I got tired of it.
All of it.
So on this morning I tossed a few diapers into my purse (along with a tube of concealer to dab under my eyes to conceal yesterday's mascara that had migrated and the occassional blemish), and headed out the door.
Upon our (late) arrival, it became painstakingly obvious that I was, in fact, pitifully under-dressed and under-prepared for this social function.
We squeezed between Mommy A with her designer jeans, professionally-dyed hair, and precisely applied make-up and Mommy B clad in her Puma tracksuit, sleek pony-tail and ridiculously complicated sneakers (I would question whether she actually worked out or not but her sculpted figure suggested he did in fact put in some time).
Awesome.
My lounge pants felt more and more like poorly disguised pajama pants by the second.
As if total humiliation as a female wasn't enough, Mommy A's children (with gelled hair and polos and khakis--are you kidding me??) came over and requested a snack, and parental humiliation ensued.
Not only did she have the fancy diaper bag, she also had pre-apportioned snacks in neat little tupperware containers at the ready to hand out to her children's waiting hands.
I tried to shoot her a look that said "I-don't-approve-of-snacks-during-storytime" but I'm fairly certain it still came off as "damn-I-wish-I'd-brought-some-of-those."
Thank goodness storytime is only a half an hour because any longer in that self-esteem trap and I think there would have been irreparable damage done.
Needless to say, we haven't ventured too many times back to story-time.
And when we do, I make sure that I at least put on my good pair of pajama pants.
Tuesday, March 20, 2012
the magic box and boundary shortcomings.
There is one thing that I find absolutely mystifying.
Well, there are lots of things actually.
ANYWHO.
You know how your kids just can't leave you alone when you go into the bathroom?
What is that all about??
It's like they think the bathroom is this magical box filled with wonder and possibility.
"What are you doing mommy?"
Well, son, there are a limited number of answers for that question and I'd like you to use your savvy powers of deduction to figure that one out.
Here's a quick and easy guide:
Am I on the toilet? Possibilities: Going to the bathroom.
Am I holding a toothbrush? Possibilities: Brushing my teeth.
Am I naked? Possibilities: Showering. Or having a naked dance party.
I don't understand how I could be in a room with them for hours on end and they hardly pay any attention to me, but the second they hear the door close to the bathroom they feel the immediate need to investigate.
"Mommy went to the bathroom! We better go make sure she didn't disappear into a portal to another realm!"
Sometimes Donovan likes to lecture me on who in the family goes potty sitting down and who stands up (i.e. "Daddy goes potty standing up, Liam goes potty in his diaper, Mommy you go potty sitting down because you're a girl, Pa-Pa goes potty standing up, I go potty standing up because I'm a big boy" so on and so forth).
Come to think of it Donovan likes to lecture me on quite a few things.
Why he's playing with the red car instead of the blue car.
Who is the biggest tooter in the family.
His pooping experience.
Liam's recent intestinal activity.
A lot of his interests revolve around bodily functions.
Back to the bathroom thing.
People wonder why I so lack that boundary that dictates appropriate/inappropriate exposure/topics among friends and it relates directly back to the level of privacy I receive at home.
I recently read a blog that talked about how many things she did naked as a mom.
It couldn't have been more true.
The phrase "Hold on please mommy needs to get some clothes on" rarely works on toddlers.
Although Van is at the age where he responds "Oh, you need to get dressed? 'Cause you're naked?"
Plus, the fight to get them to hold their horses is usually longer than it would take for you to just grab the car from under the refrigerator or save a stuffed animal from behind the bed or settle a quarrel among brothers.
My children aren't the only ones who strip me of my privacy.
Our cats also frequently join me in the bathroom to sit on the counter while I'm sitting on the toilet and just purr and rub their head back and forth in my face.
Like I sat down specifically to allow for an optimal cuddling experience.
I'm sure many more moms can relate to this: I don't even shut the door anymore.
The gesture is entirely futile.
It will be opened in a matter of minutes by either child inquiring after the efficiency of my bladder.
(i.e. "You almost done going potty mommy?")
I should probably bite my tongue.
In a few years I'm going to be writing a tearful post about how my children can only think to go "ewww" when they come across mommy in anything other than full body armor.
Motherhood is such a teeter-totter.
Well, there are lots of things actually.
ANYWHO.
You know how your kids just can't leave you alone when you go into the bathroom?
What is that all about??
It's like they think the bathroom is this magical box filled with wonder and possibility.
"What are you doing mommy?"
Well, son, there are a limited number of answers for that question and I'd like you to use your savvy powers of deduction to figure that one out.
Here's a quick and easy guide:
Am I on the toilet? Possibilities: Going to the bathroom.
Am I holding a toothbrush? Possibilities: Brushing my teeth.
Am I naked? Possibilities: Showering. Or having a naked dance party.
I don't understand how I could be in a room with them for hours on end and they hardly pay any attention to me, but the second they hear the door close to the bathroom they feel the immediate need to investigate.
"Mommy went to the bathroom! We better go make sure she didn't disappear into a portal to another realm!"
Sometimes Donovan likes to lecture me on who in the family goes potty sitting down and who stands up (i.e. "Daddy goes potty standing up, Liam goes potty in his diaper, Mommy you go potty sitting down because you're a girl, Pa-Pa goes potty standing up, I go potty standing up because I'm a big boy" so on and so forth).
Come to think of it Donovan likes to lecture me on quite a few things.
Why he's playing with the red car instead of the blue car.
Who is the biggest tooter in the family.
His pooping experience.
Liam's recent intestinal activity.
A lot of his interests revolve around bodily functions.
Back to the bathroom thing.
People wonder why I so lack that boundary that dictates appropriate/inappropriate exposure/topics among friends and it relates directly back to the level of privacy I receive at home.
I recently read a blog that talked about how many things she did naked as a mom.
It couldn't have been more true.
The phrase "Hold on please mommy needs to get some clothes on" rarely works on toddlers.
Although Van is at the age where he responds "Oh, you need to get dressed? 'Cause you're naked?"
Plus, the fight to get them to hold their horses is usually longer than it would take for you to just grab the car from under the refrigerator or save a stuffed animal from behind the bed or settle a quarrel among brothers.
My children aren't the only ones who strip me of my privacy.
Our cats also frequently join me in the bathroom to sit on the counter while I'm sitting on the toilet and just purr and rub their head back and forth in my face.
Like I sat down specifically to allow for an optimal cuddling experience.
I'm sure many more moms can relate to this: I don't even shut the door anymore.
The gesture is entirely futile.
It will be opened in a matter of minutes by either child inquiring after the efficiency of my bladder.
(i.e. "You almost done going potty mommy?")
I should probably bite my tongue.
In a few years I'm going to be writing a tearful post about how my children can only think to go "ewww" when they come across mommy in anything other than full body armor.
Motherhood is such a teeter-totter.
Friday, March 9, 2012
thank you for your judgment.
You know what just makes me furious??
When my kid runs in front of your cart at the store and instead of saying "Whoops!" and smiling sweetly down at my perfect son (silently thanking your lucky stars you didn't possibly maim this beautiful, innocent, playful child), you give an exasperated roll of your eyes and completely ignore us while maneuvering your cart to child-free territory.
You know what makes me even more furious???
When you've got your own teenage kids walking with you.
When you've clearly had to raise children yourself.
When, after about ten years toddler free, you decided to adopt a "holier-than-thou" attitude towards mothers of today with small children.
Oh, I'm sorry, did you never have to go to the store with them when they were little? Were you so organized and on-top-of-it to have a perfectly arranged lifestyle in which there was always someone to watch your children so you could go peruse the aisles of the glory that is Target all by yourself? You must be one lucky lady to have been so blessed during your lifetime that you never had to corral rambunctious toddlers/preschoolers through aisle after aisle of grab-able, brightly colored, tot-sized objects repeating the words "no" and "don't touch that" and "put it back" so many times you feel like a robot instead of a person.
And don't even give me that "there's-a-seat-in-the-cart-for-a-reason" look, lady, because believe me, I've tried that seat and if we were still using that method you'd be giving me the "your-child-is-screaming-and-disrupting-my-shopping-environment" look instead.
It's true, I never wanted to be that mom.
I never wanted to be the one running from aisle to aisle trying to find the missing toddler only to discover him playing fortress behind the stacks of toilet paper.
I always thought "How come these moms can't keep it together?"
So as a woman with a history of snobbish attitudes towards disheveled moms prior to my own initiation into the wonderful world of parenting I could understand how people who have never had children or don't have children yet could give me a disapproving glance.
What I find, however, is that most often I get these looks from other mothers.
Why do we always think we've got the market cornered on successful parenting?
Why are we so rude to each other sometimes?
Of all people we should be besties, not judgmental meanies.
Come on, people.
Spread the love.
Or something.
When my kid runs in front of your cart at the store and instead of saying "Whoops!" and smiling sweetly down at my perfect son (silently thanking your lucky stars you didn't possibly maim this beautiful, innocent, playful child), you give an exasperated roll of your eyes and completely ignore us while maneuvering your cart to child-free territory.
You know what makes me even more furious???
When you've got your own teenage kids walking with you.
When you've clearly had to raise children yourself.
When, after about ten years toddler free, you decided to adopt a "holier-than-thou" attitude towards mothers of today with small children.
Oh, I'm sorry, did you never have to go to the store with them when they were little? Were you so organized and on-top-of-it to have a perfectly arranged lifestyle in which there was always someone to watch your children so you could go peruse the aisles of the glory that is Target all by yourself? You must be one lucky lady to have been so blessed during your lifetime that you never had to corral rambunctious toddlers/preschoolers through aisle after aisle of grab-able, brightly colored, tot-sized objects repeating the words "no" and "don't touch that" and "put it back" so many times you feel like a robot instead of a person.
And don't even give me that "there's-a-seat-in-the-cart-for-a-reason" look, lady, because believe me, I've tried that seat and if we were still using that method you'd be giving me the "your-child-is-screaming-and-disrupting-my-shopping-environment" look instead.
It's true, I never wanted to be that mom.
I never wanted to be the one running from aisle to aisle trying to find the missing toddler only to discover him playing fortress behind the stacks of toilet paper.
I always thought "How come these moms can't keep it together?"
So as a woman with a history of snobbish attitudes towards disheveled moms prior to my own initiation into the wonderful world of parenting I could understand how people who have never had children or don't have children yet could give me a disapproving glance.
What I find, however, is that most often I get these looks from other mothers.
Why do we always think we've got the market cornered on successful parenting?
Why are we so rude to each other sometimes?
Of all people we should be besties, not judgmental meanies.
Come on, people.
Spread the love.
Or something.
Tuesday, January 24, 2012
valentine's door decor.
As of yet I haven't come up with a witty, clever rant of any kind to blog about. I'm apparently not cut out for this. But, as it happens, I've started an insane crafting/diy habit (thanks a lot pinterest) and have another one of my valentine creations to showcase.
I am a huge fan of those over-sized door decorations in basic shapes. I recently started making my own out of foam core and assorted paper. I decided to get a little creative with the Valentine's heart and use a mosaic-like effect. Here's the end result:
It looks a little off-kilter shape-wise due to the fact that it was bending forward a little bit. I couldn't believe how much I actually liked the final product (sometimes I come to hate my so-called "genius" ideas). And it was possibly easier than any other door-hanger I've made.
Supplies:
1 piece of foam core board (I usually grab mine at Michael's, they often have sales on it)
4 different scrapbook size pieces of paper (I recommend 3 solid, 1 pattern)
Elmer's Glue
Water
Medium-Sized Foam Brush
Yarn (I just used some I had left over from a scarf I had knitted for Christmas)
Hot Glue Gun
1. Mix equal parts glue and water in a serving sized bowl (amount may vary due to how big your piece is). This will be your "mod podge" to adhere the scraps of paper to your foam core.
2. Draw and then cut out (an exacto/utility knife works best) your heart on the sheet of foam core. I made my heart as big as I could on one sheet of foam core, so as long as yours fits on one piece, you will have enough paper to cover the whole thing.
3. Tear all of your paper up into scraps (all different shapes but relatively the same size is how I made mine).
4. Start gluing!! Just brush some of your glue mixture onto the foam core heart(I started top left) and stick the pieces of paper to the board. After they're in place, put another layer of glue mixture on top to "seal" it on there. You don't have to have a "pattern" or anything, but I did try to make it so that the colors were evenly distributed around the heart.
5. Once all of your paper is on there and you like the way it's arranged, set it somewhere to dry. When mine dried, unfortunately, it bowed a little bit. If anyone has any ideas on how to keep this from happening during the drying process--tips would be much appreciated! I flattened mine afterwards under a tote full of books (I'm nothing if not resourceful).
6. Finishing: Now, my husband liked the look of my heart before I trimmed around the edges, and he would have preferred if I left it "rugged." I am, however, obsessive, and couldn't leave it alone. SO I trimmed down around the edges (just using some scissors). One of the problems that comes with working with foam core is the edges are often ragged and unsightly. To solve that problem, I glued some leftover yarn to create a border around the heart. I just used my hot glue gun and followed the edges, securing the yarn every three inches or so. I then used that yarn to create a "hanger" for the heart, and voila! Your very own door decor.
Well folks, hopefully I'll be back soon with something substantial or at the very least entertaining.
Until then, mes amis.
Love,
Katie M.
I am a huge fan of those over-sized door decorations in basic shapes. I recently started making my own out of foam core and assorted paper. I decided to get a little creative with the Valentine's heart and use a mosaic-like effect. Here's the end result:
Supplies:
1 piece of foam core board (I usually grab mine at Michael's, they often have sales on it)
4 different scrapbook size pieces of paper (I recommend 3 solid, 1 pattern)
Elmer's Glue
Water
Medium-Sized Foam Brush
Yarn (I just used some I had left over from a scarf I had knitted for Christmas)
Hot Glue Gun
1. Mix equal parts glue and water in a serving sized bowl (amount may vary due to how big your piece is). This will be your "mod podge" to adhere the scraps of paper to your foam core.
2. Draw and then cut out (an exacto/utility knife works best) your heart on the sheet of foam core. I made my heart as big as I could on one sheet of foam core, so as long as yours fits on one piece, you will have enough paper to cover the whole thing.
3. Tear all of your paper up into scraps (all different shapes but relatively the same size is how I made mine).
4. Start gluing!! Just brush some of your glue mixture onto the foam core heart(I started top left) and stick the pieces of paper to the board. After they're in place, put another layer of glue mixture on top to "seal" it on there. You don't have to have a "pattern" or anything, but I did try to make it so that the colors were evenly distributed around the heart.
5. Once all of your paper is on there and you like the way it's arranged, set it somewhere to dry. When mine dried, unfortunately, it bowed a little bit. If anyone has any ideas on how to keep this from happening during the drying process--tips would be much appreciated! I flattened mine afterwards under a tote full of books (I'm nothing if not resourceful).
Well folks, hopefully I'll be back soon with something substantial or at the very least entertaining.
Until then, mes amis.
Love,
Katie M.
Tuesday, January 3, 2012
so this is the new year.
Happy New Year, one and all.
I'm not sure what it is, but the lack of Christmas decorations in my household (after I haphazardly threw them all into what probably weren't their respective boxes this morning in a fit of "being on top of it") makes it look even messier.
Perhaps all of the shiny baubles and Christmas tree detracted from all of the clutter that pretty much is eating my house alive.
Whatever the reason, I've started this New Year off with a little bit less than optimism.
I've also decided to skip right past those pesky "winter" decorations that would be around for all of maybe half a month.
What am I doing instead, you ask??
I am putting myself full-force into Valentine's Day.
Makes no sense, really, since I pretty much hate the holiday. Someday I'll share some of my hatred-filled poetry with you from a few years ago at my low point.
But now I've got kids and making pretty valentines is fun.
For Christmas, we made the over-21 males (as responsible adults would) a six-pack of "Rein-Beers" (see pinterest for the How-To on that one--they were a big hit)...but you need about one brown pipe cleaner per beer.
And unfortunately, I could not find a pack of only brown pipe cleaners.
So I was left with about 200 pipe cleaners in assorted colors and no idea what to do with them.
Then, while messing around with them with the day care kids and my boys, I came up with this:
Super insanely easy and it used my leftovers.
Perfect. Timing.
Needless to say all afternoon I've been hailing myself as a crafty genius and patting myself on the back with alarming frequency.
Should you need a How-To on this, if you have also found yourself with an abundance of random pipe-cleaners:
1. Twist two ends of a pipe cleaner together, shape into a heart.
2. To keep them all connected, etc. wrap the second pipe cleaner around the first heart before twisting the ends together.
3. Keep going until it's as long as you want it.
4. Ta-da!!
I'm not sure how I'm going to store this during the off-season, considering it's all smushy and whatnot, but we'll cross that bridge when we come to it.
I'm not sure what it is, but the lack of Christmas decorations in my household (after I haphazardly threw them all into what probably weren't their respective boxes this morning in a fit of "being on top of it") makes it look even messier.
Perhaps all of the shiny baubles and Christmas tree detracted from all of the clutter that pretty much is eating my house alive.
Whatever the reason, I've started this New Year off with a little bit less than optimism.
I've also decided to skip right past those pesky "winter" decorations that would be around for all of maybe half a month.
What am I doing instead, you ask??
I am putting myself full-force into Valentine's Day.
Makes no sense, really, since I pretty much hate the holiday. Someday I'll share some of my hatred-filled poetry with you from a few years ago at my low point.
But now I've got kids and making pretty valentines is fun.
For Christmas, we made the over-21 males (as responsible adults would) a six-pack of "Rein-Beers" (see pinterest for the How-To on that one--they were a big hit)...but you need about one brown pipe cleaner per beer.
And unfortunately, I could not find a pack of only brown pipe cleaners.
So I was left with about 200 pipe cleaners in assorted colors and no idea what to do with them.
Then, while messing around with them with the day care kids and my boys, I came up with this:
Super insanely easy and it used my leftovers.
Perfect. Timing.
Needless to say all afternoon I've been hailing myself as a crafty genius and patting myself on the back with alarming frequency.
Should you need a How-To on this, if you have also found yourself with an abundance of random pipe-cleaners:
1. Twist two ends of a pipe cleaner together, shape into a heart.
2. To keep them all connected, etc. wrap the second pipe cleaner around the first heart before twisting the ends together.
3. Keep going until it's as long as you want it.
4. Ta-da!!
I'm not sure how I'm going to store this during the off-season, considering it's all smushy and whatnot, but we'll cross that bridge when we come to it.
Wednesday, December 14, 2011
oooooh money, money, money.
i have always been of the assumption that if i had oodles of money, i'd be a super parent/person.
somehow this additional money would grant me more motivation to do the things i wanted to do.
i would get up every morning to work out because all of that money would invigorate me and i would therefore need less sleep.
i would make sure i was showered and entirely put together (if i had the money to pay for fancy products for sure i'd want to use them every morning and spend an extra hour of time i could have spent sleeping applying make-up and forcing my hair to do unnatural things) before waking my children up at an early hour (7 sounds about right).
i would make my kids a healthy breakfast of eggs, wheat toast, bran muffins, fresh squeezed orange juice (we'd have a juicer i'm sure).
they would play games while i cleaned up the breakfast dishes, loaded the dishwasher and maybe perused the newspaper?
actually, i'd probably also develop a strict devotional regimen and spend time while my children were playing nicely (they'd have such educational and entertaining toys, and be so well-behaved with that added weight in our pocketbooks) getting deeper into the Word.
we'd be on time to preschool--i'd give us plenty of time to put on coats, mess around with shoes, etc. because our additional cash flow also gave me uncanny time management skills. i mean let's be honest the day would flow from there. do you catch my drift? i have had dreams and hopes of one day being rich and being able to be the person i wanted to be.
what a giant pile of steaming bullshit.
seriously, kate?
you thought money would solve these problems?
anything to take the blame off of yourself, right?
because when you hit the snooze seven times in the morning only to hop out of bed minutes before your additional charge (the day care boy) shows up, clearly the lack of motivation was due to financial distress and not, say, staying up too late the night before.
you don't work out in the mornings because you are still mourning the loss of your y membership, and are convinced that working out at home just won't reap the same benefits (nevermind that all you ever used of the y's equipment was a treadmill).
you don't make your kids a giant health-food filled breakfast because you're just too damn lazy most of the time and let's be honest if they enjoy frosted mini-wheats and cheerios and chex--why waste your time and energy concocting something that (face it) you don't even necessarily want to eat for breakfast? having a giant kitchen filled with shiny appliances isn't going to make your desire to slave over the stove early in the morning any more real.
no amount of money on the planet could make your children behave like angels 24/7--and so therefore quiet time in the morning "while your children played" was a total fabrication of dreamland. maybe after you wiped up the spilled juice, cleaned eggs off the chair,, swept up the bread crumbs and made sure every last sippy cup was in the fridge to avoid rotten milk--maybe (just MAYBE) you'd be able to high-tail it to their bedroom to prevent the next basket of diapers from being overturned.
and let's not pretend that the added money would give you any more motivation to sit down and read the bible--now that we've shattered the idea that more money = more time/energy, i doubt you'd be picking your "alone" moments to spend with God any more than you are now. you'd still want your "me" time which apparently involves random strangers' faux pas via facebook/autocorrect/etc or the cast of characters from any number of prime time television programs (generously provided online now, thank youuuu internet).
additional wealth is not going to turn you into a saintly constant-prayer-and-devotion type of person.
money, albeit handy, is also not going to grant you the time-management skills you so greatly lack--as evidenced by the woman who drives up in her shiny mercedes suv five minutes late to preschool every day (thank you, reality check).
you will always be late until YOU decide to make the change.
so i'm going to work on these things sans the extra money--but if you feel the need to share your burden of wealth, please feel free to contact me asap.
somehow this additional money would grant me more motivation to do the things i wanted to do.
i would get up every morning to work out because all of that money would invigorate me and i would therefore need less sleep.
i would make sure i was showered and entirely put together (if i had the money to pay for fancy products for sure i'd want to use them every morning and spend an extra hour of time i could have spent sleeping applying make-up and forcing my hair to do unnatural things) before waking my children up at an early hour (7 sounds about right).
i would make my kids a healthy breakfast of eggs, wheat toast, bran muffins, fresh squeezed orange juice (we'd have a juicer i'm sure).
they would play games while i cleaned up the breakfast dishes, loaded the dishwasher and maybe perused the newspaper?
actually, i'd probably also develop a strict devotional regimen and spend time while my children were playing nicely (they'd have such educational and entertaining toys, and be so well-behaved with that added weight in our pocketbooks) getting deeper into the Word.
we'd be on time to preschool--i'd give us plenty of time to put on coats, mess around with shoes, etc. because our additional cash flow also gave me uncanny time management skills. i mean let's be honest the day would flow from there. do you catch my drift? i have had dreams and hopes of one day being rich and being able to be the person i wanted to be.
what a giant pile of steaming bullshit.
seriously, kate?
you thought money would solve these problems?
anything to take the blame off of yourself, right?
because when you hit the snooze seven times in the morning only to hop out of bed minutes before your additional charge (the day care boy) shows up, clearly the lack of motivation was due to financial distress and not, say, staying up too late the night before.
you don't work out in the mornings because you are still mourning the loss of your y membership, and are convinced that working out at home just won't reap the same benefits (nevermind that all you ever used of the y's equipment was a treadmill).
you don't make your kids a giant health-food filled breakfast because you're just too damn lazy most of the time and let's be honest if they enjoy frosted mini-wheats and cheerios and chex--why waste your time and energy concocting something that (face it) you don't even necessarily want to eat for breakfast? having a giant kitchen filled with shiny appliances isn't going to make your desire to slave over the stove early in the morning any more real.
no amount of money on the planet could make your children behave like angels 24/7--and so therefore quiet time in the morning "while your children played" was a total fabrication of dreamland. maybe after you wiped up the spilled juice, cleaned eggs off the chair,, swept up the bread crumbs and made sure every last sippy cup was in the fridge to avoid rotten milk--maybe (just MAYBE) you'd be able to high-tail it to their bedroom to prevent the next basket of diapers from being overturned.
and let's not pretend that the added money would give you any more motivation to sit down and read the bible--now that we've shattered the idea that more money = more time/energy, i doubt you'd be picking your "alone" moments to spend with God any more than you are now. you'd still want your "me" time which apparently involves random strangers' faux pas via facebook/autocorrect/etc or the cast of characters from any number of prime time television programs (generously provided online now, thank youuuu internet).
additional wealth is not going to turn you into a saintly constant-prayer-and-devotion type of person.
money, albeit handy, is also not going to grant you the time-management skills you so greatly lack--as evidenced by the woman who drives up in her shiny mercedes suv five minutes late to preschool every day (thank you, reality check).
you will always be late until YOU decide to make the change.
so i'm going to work on these things sans the extra money--but if you feel the need to share your burden of wealth, please feel free to contact me asap.
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