No Beginning and No End

I found the best book at the library a few weeks ago, The Repurposed Library.  Every project in the book is made from an old book, and not just decoupaging them (spell check is saying that decoupage + ing is not a real word…whatever spell check) and making bookmarks.  Quite a few of the projects included the phrase, “You will need a band saw.”  I want to make pretty much every single thing in the book, but for now I just started with a wreath.

The directions call for 200 rosebuds and 50 leaves, but I made about 170 and 25 and that worked pretty perfectly.  I guess technically you could just go on gluing rosebud flowers indefinitely, but I ran out of hot glue sticks, which is an accomplishment in itself.  It was the most blistery finger project yet, but worth it.

My sincere apologies to the author of the book I cut apart.  I love most of your books, I really do, except for maybe the one that I stopped 20 pages short of finishing and started cutting and twisting into flowers.  Lesson learned:  I would feel less guilty if I had just picked up a random book at the thrift store and used it for the project. 

I’m on a wreath making kick, so I also made this for my mom-

Rush and my mom always drink hot tea together in mornings when they’re together, so I thought a wreath of tea bags would be a nice way to replenish her tea supply and jazz up her kitchen.  The whole project consists of tea bags, scrapbook paper, a cardboard circle cut out of a box, clothespins, and Elmer’s glue.  I got the idea from picture somewhere online, but who knows where.   Like most projects, I came across a tutorial, glanced at it, decided to make it weeks later, had no way to access the instructions, and just did my best to make it work.

In the summer, I can barely drag myself to my craft supplies.  But something about cooler weather is ultra motivating.  It might just be that the pool is closed.

I’m Still Thankful For…

having family to visit for Thanksgiving!

Thursday was the first ever Rush Family Fun Run and Walk, which was a great way to start off a long weekend where eating a snack means a loaded plate of Thanksgiving leftovers.

We squeezed in a bit of game playing

and some cousin time.

Because Thanksgiving is the holiday when Trent’s siblings are all together, we did our handmade gift exchange on Friday.  We drew names months ago and set out to make each person a gift for under $20, or as I like to think, under $5, because as a family we’re not spending $80 on handmade gifts.

For our niece Remi, Trent made a pocket to hang off the side of her bed and store books, flashlights, and whatever it is that tweens need at night.

Rush “made” an laptop sleeve for his Uncle Troy. 

Tate painted a gold, glittery vase for Gigi.

I love the handmade gift exchange all year, except for actually making the gifts with the boys. Can’t everyone just imagine the smooth, crafty mom who seamlessly (pun intended) leads her sons to unleash their full power of creativity in making their gifts?  The reality, of course, is sitting with Rush on my lap at the sewing machine, while I’m sweating and pleading with him not to switch levers or pull thread while we’re sewing, and trying to rein in a one-year-old with a paintbrush full of permanent gold glitter paint and a large glass object.  Then they both lose interest after 90 seconds and I finish their gifts. 

I painted gold, glittery wine glasses for my sister-in-law, Julee.

The fun run, game playing, and handmade gift exchange accounted for 10% of the trip.  The other 90% was dominated by eating and reading and snoozing with my sister on my parents’ bed while waiting for football to be over so we could watch Mad Men on DVD.  I love Thanksgiving.

I’m playing the Episcopalian card and not starting one bit of Christmas preparations until Advent starts on Sunday.  I love all the Christmas preparations, I really do, but I’m just not ready yet, even for Christmas music in the car.  I’m happily watching decorations come out around the neighborhood, but I’m enjoying an extra week of catching my breath and trying (in vain) to get the house clean before pulling out our own decorations.  I’ve also decided to start my new year’s resolutions with the start of the new church year, so when Advent starts on Sunday, so does my one new year’s resolution: Have A Good Attitude. 

On Sunday, Michael Buble, the Elf Soundtrack, and John Denver and the Muppets will start their domination of my playlist.  I’m going to start marking cookie recipes in December magazines, and my sparkly new attitude will take effect.  But for the rest of this week, I’ll just be enjoying Ordinary Time.

On Eating

Full disclosure: not one of the following photographs is remotely recent, meaning if food is featured in a photo, and I'm seeing you over Thanksgiving, there’s only a slight chance you will actually see the following food in real life.  Most of these pictures are from a folder on the computer titled “Halloween 2012” which includes photographs taken in September.  We also still have a “Happy Haunting” sign in our fireplace, so it let’s assume that time is flying by faster than we can process it.  It’s a good thing we’re not a put up the tree the day after Thanksgiving family; that would never, never work here. 

While you probably won’t get to eat oyster crackers or pumpkin chocolate chip muffins from me this week, if you do happen to receive a bottle of wine it will likely to delivered in one of the million wine bags that burst forth from my sewing machine.  Most were created from odd sized fabric in my craft closet, but one fabulous bag is made from an old pair of my pajama pants.  Lucky you if you get that bottle! 

Sometime in the past month or two or three, I made pumpkin chocolate chip muffins with my two little sous chefs and forgot to add the oil.  They were perfectly delicious without it.  Good to know.

Maybe oil-less muffins will add balance to Sleeping Child Clutching Happy Meal.

One of the biggest lies I believed about children –pre-children- was that if you offer a variety of foods, kids will naturally balance their own diet.  Um, nope.  No.  I also like the idea, promoted by all baby propaganda, that if you feed your baby a variety of vegetable and fruit purees from the first time they start eating, they will develop a taste for vegetables.  Here’s the reality:  Children will starve themselves before they will eat enough vegetables to self balance their diets.  If you offer them anything that’s not a vegetable, like a Happy Meal or a piece of string cheese, they will use it for sustenance and forsake all others.  The will pick individual grains of rice out of stir fry.  

I did a spiritual gifts test at church on Sunday and one of the questions was “Do you work well under pressure?”  I responded with the highest answer –whatever that was- something like ALWAYS TRUE.  Now that I’ve created a high pressure environment for myself by writing this instead of doing the twenty real things I need to accomplish before bed, and it’s almost midnight, I think I’ll get to work.

Compared To What?

I looked up the lead singer of the band Fun (of the official 2012 summer anthem of 15-22 year olds, “We Are Young”) because I wanted to know how old he is.  He has that William H. Macy look to me, where he could pass for 65 regardless of how old he actually is.  I guessed he was actually 22, but guess what- he’s thirty.  If I had known that, I too might have adopted the song as my summer anthem.  I was pondering this information when the song came on the radio the other day while I was at the dentist.  My new scale for determining if you are actually young or just young at heart is Are You Old Enough To Be My Dentist?  Nate Ruess, you could be my dentist.  Maybe there should be a different scale if you choose rock star as opposed to dentist as a career path…subtract seven years for famous musicians?  Unless you’re a classical musician, then add 7 years.

I absolutely love getting older.  (Read that in an Eloise at the Plaza voice, please, then add the qualifier “mostly.” I’m not loving having a kink in my back that won’t go away or feeling sick if I happen to eat 15 Laffy Taffys.  Back in my youth, my go-to gas station snack was a Dr. Pepper and a box of Sugar Babies, no worries.)  To celebrate my new 32-ness, I went to a Zumba class on the day after my birthday.  Zumba for me resembles Kermit the Frog doing the old soft shoe more closely than it resembles Latin dance.  But the best thing about getting older is that no one cares!  I’ve finally got it out of my head that work-out classes are going to be filled with perfectly fit 20 year-olds with fancy workout clothes and good hair.  The reality is people of all ages, some just wearing regular old t-shirts, all body types, all just doing the best they can.  

Another thing I really love about getting older is driving a van.  It’s secretly the world’s greatest vehicle.  Ironically it makes me feel young, because I learned to drive in my parents’ vans.  There’s nothing like getting into a sweltering hot minivan to make me feel 16 for a split second.

Sadly, our van will probably be imploding soon due to the number of acorns that have been forced through the grill.  It would be nice if children would listen every time you tell them something, but it’s also nice to have actual children and not just mini-robots.

or-ga-ni-za-tion

Remember the organized closet at the end of the book The Berenstain Bears and the Messy Room?  As a child I loved to look at the picture of that closet on the last page- all those stacks of boxes organized and labeled: SCISSORS, MARKERS, CARS, DOLLS- because it was simultaneously amazing and completely unrealistic.  Maybe it was amazing because it was so elusive.  Even as I child, I knew it would never work.  In no way is that level of organization sustainable for my being.

So because it seemed impossible, I tried it with the boys.

It worked really well for two days.  I know as of this moment, the boxes of trains are in the living room, tools are in my closet, the construction toys are in Rush’s closet, but dumped out of their box.  Half of the matchbox cars are lined up on a windowsill, the other half are in the bottom of two or three of my purses.  There is a plastic box in Tate’s room filled with napkin rings and a pencil and I know I didn’t label that one.

I probably should have given up before I finished, because as I was sitting in Rush’s closet with a Sharpie, sorting the matchbox cars from the astronauts, all the books were being swept off the shelf in one massive swoop.  Four little arms can be extremely effective.  If you’re seeking a meditation on futility, try to clean something with two children in your proximity.

I just needed things to be clean and organized for 5 minutes.  At least now I know that every little thing has a spot so theoretically every little thing can find its way back.

And on the days when nothing makes it back into the labeled boxes, we’ll just push it all into the closet and shut the door.  That was probably why the Berenstain bears kept their boxes in the closet anyway.

Free Speech

Today a man –in my own home, over a cup of coffee, while Jackson 5 played in the background- went off on an anti-Obama rant.  There were a lot of things wrong with the situation:  1.  It was 9:15 in the morning.  2.  I met this person about 30 minutes before the rant.  3.  He didn’t even know my name (Trent’s name was printed on the forms from the alarm company; he was fixing our alarm.) and he certainly didn’t know my political leanings.  4.  Rush and Tate were standing next to me, and that’s just not the way we talk around here.  5.  He was otherwise a nice, pleasant person. 

I was born patriotic.  It’s a scientific fact* that being born on November 7 in the height of election season makes you especially in love with America.  And guess what- I like President Obama and his family.  I’m not getting into politics; I’m saying I want them to come to my house for dinner and we can sit on the back porch eating chips and hot sauce.  President Obama –like every other person who lives in DC- can vent about how sick he is of going to the Air and Space museum every time family comes to visit.  Sasha and Malia can be Rush and Tate’s favorite babysitters and we’ll order pizza when they babysit.  Michelle can be my workout buddy and I’ll in the best shape of my life because when I want to give up on bicep curls, she’ll encourage me to keep going.

It’s a shocking thought –gasp!  horror!  how dare she!- but it’s okay to like the president of your country.  Free speech doesn’t mean you have to gripe all the time.  If Romney had been elected, I wouldn’t be bad mouthing him all over town.  I would be finding his picture in the newspaper and pointing him out as the president to Rush and Tate.  I would be saying, “If President Romney invites you to dinner at the White House, are you going to spit food on the floor?” when we eat dinner.  Yes, the first amendment allows you to bash the president if you like, but that’s not the way I want to live.

The things this man was ranting about weren’t the topics of an informed person; it wasn’t about how we as the American people can improve the quality of life for our fellow citizens.  I’m as annoyed as anyone that Houston didn’t get a retired shuttle, but I don’t think it merits comparing the president to the emperor in Star Wars.  And I’m pretty sure that the federal government isn’t responsible for the New York fountain drink sizes.  And again, I didn’t even know this person.  And IT WAS NINE FIFTEEN IN THE MORNING.  There’s not enough coffee in the world to make it okay to say some things that early, or at all, ever.

In this stage in my life, when I’m trying my hardest to raise two responsible, well mannered American men, I welcome one style of political discussion in my home and one style only.  My friend Nick can come over and we can argue about legalizing drugs.  We’ve had the discussion before; we have opposing views.  When we talk about it, we both know we’re not out to change the other’s mind, but to hear another viewpoint and by speaking our own minds, learn to better articulate our own beliefs.  If you can meet those standards and be respectful of others as actual human beings, then we’ll talk.  The rest of America, if you want to bash the president, and I mean any president, Democrat or Republican, now or in the future**, take it to Facebook.  Shut your apple pie holes in my house. We’re preaching a gospel of love around here. 

If the internet is good for two things, it’s giving people a place to rant and vent publically and seeing pictures of cats sleeping in cute positions.  So let’s make it two for two.

*Source:  My brother-in-law, also a November 7 birthday, was a political science major and spends election night coloring in states on his computer as their votes are confirmed.

**I’m optimistic enough about the American people and separation of powers to assume we’re not in danger of electing a Hitler or a Voldemort.

Last Minute Election Day Thoughts

Early today I heard a news commentator talking about the voters who are still undecided.  If you are really still undecided, I think it’s safe to say that your vote will truly have no effect on your life.  Democrats vs. Republicans, size of government, the economy; you really shouldn’t worry about it.  Your personal problems likely stem from your crippling inability to make decisions.  If you’re still undecided on November 6, 2012, just go vote for the candidate you think is the most attractive.

I would urge everyone to go out and vote, but I get the feeling that anyone who reads this is probably an active voter and probably a voter who picked a candidate months ago.  So good for you! 

I’ve got a bottle of wine and a gigantic pile of laundry to fold, so I’m totally set to watch election coverage on tv tonight. 

Trick or Treat

Last night we went trick-or-treating with a little skeleton

and Buzz Lightyear With Glasses (and a last minute witch’s hat.)

Rush was SO EXCITED about Halloween this year.  For about five days before Halloween, he woke up every morning asking, “Is today Halloween?”  Finally, finally!, Halloween actually arrived and he was bursting with excitement as we got ready to start trick-or-treating.  The glasses and hat didn’t stand up to running, so Rush carried them most of the evening.  I tried to carry them for him, but it was his costume and he was not giving it up.

I ended up carrying Tate for a lot of the evening.  He understood the candy so clearly, but he’s still just a little guy.  He had a great night for a one-year-old.

Great Halloween!