Drop-Dead Adorable

Yesterday, Audrey and I busied ourselves with a little Halloween crafting. This weekend we are taking part in a local Trunk-or-Treat. Most of these events are community or church-sponsored. The basic concept is that participants come with their cars decorated to a designated parking lot. They pop their trunks, which are filled with candy, and trick-or-treaters visit each car. The Trunk-or-Treat we're participating in is sponsored by my mom's group (and the church where we hold our meetings), with snacks, games, and a craft project for the kids. I've been brainstorming for easy ways to decorate the car. Bats seemed like an ideal choice, Audrey being the animal enthusiast she is, and recently asking me what bats are.

I had planned on using a stash of empty toilet paper rolls I've been collecting, but then ran across this post about clothespin bats. The bats were too cute to pass up (and we had almost everything on the list to make them). We made a few minor changes. The original design used construction paper to make the bats, but I noticed a comment by a reader who used felt. I thought this was a great idea for durability sake. This reader used iron-on jewels for the eyes since a hole-punch won't go through felt. I had some white sequin discs leftover from another project that worked just fine (and toddler fingers are the perfect size for this little detail work). I left the eye-gluing to Audrey and I tackled spray painting the clothespins. Together we glued the tips of the wings to form one piece. After the clothespins dried (which happened to be after Audrey had gone to bed) I glued the clothespins to the bats. This morning I attached some clear nylon jewelry cord to each bat.


Audrey grabbed 3 of the bats and very appropriately hung them from a doorknob, a kitchen window, and the stair banister. The other five I hung from the fireplace (and I think my little designer was right, 5 are all the fireplace needs). They will hang there until Saturday morning when we drape them from the top of the car for Trunk-or-Treat. I have thoughts of making black cardboard wings to attach to the sides of the car, but we'll see if I get that far. We have more important things to prepare for this week - like a certain someone turning three.

*While Audrey and I physically did this project, I must give credit where it's due. Crafting would not have happened yesterday had it not been for my friend, Elizabeth, who upon finding out in the morning that I was functioning on a mere four hours of sleep, whisked Audrey off for a play date so I could get some rest. Without her generosity, there would have been no afternoon creativity and no bats, just one zombie of a mama. (Thanks, Elizabeth)!


I suppose I should give some credit to Martha Stewart, too, since it is her design. But I'm sure she couldn't have made them, either, had it not been for enough sleep and good friends. There are some things (domestic goddess, or not) that we all need.

School Days: Kindergarten

 

 

We finished kindergarten on a Sunday this year with one last field trip: a celebratory family outing to the zoo, complete with a commemorative smashed penny.  The machine we visited offered a selection of four pictures for your penny-smashing pleasure.  Audrey chose a dolphin.  Jason set the levers to point to "dolphin" and Audrey wound the gears.  Her flattened penny clanked into the dispenser.  She pulled it out to admire the machine's handiwork and found herself face-to-face with a walrus.  I found a new penny.  Jason put it, with fifty cents, into the dispenser.  He set the dials.  Audrey cranked the machine.  Her penny clanked.  It was a walrus.  It just goes to show you: sometimes, you think you're going after a dolphin, but you end up in possession of a walrus.  Kindergarten: it's not all about reading and arithmetic.   

 

 

Here are a few other things kindergarten was about this year (or at least, a few of our most memorable moments):

 



 

 

 

When I asked Audrey what her favorite thing about homeschool was this year, she said, "I like trying to impress you with my handwriting.  I like trying to make you proud."  She succeeded in her endeavor, but when I look back to what she enjoyed most about school I'm reminded of introducing her to archaeology.  We studied Ancient History this year and began the year with a discussion of why we know what we do about history.  We attended a homeschool class led by an archaeologist at The Children's Museum.  Then, we conducted a little "archaeological dig" of our own - in our backyard. 

 

 

 

We spent the first half of the year studying animals for Science.  One of our favorite weeks was spent studying bats (including experiments on sonar, a toothpick-and-construction paper diagram of a bat, and bat crafts).  The picture above shows Audrey building a bat box at a local Parks and Rec event that week. 

 

 

 

 

The picture above was taken at Ruby Falls.  Two things: 1) This field trip really didn't have much to do with what we studied in kindergarten, since we'll cover Earth Science next year.  2) It's highly likely that this field trip will stay fresher in my mind than Audrey's, as I will always remember it as the day Jason grabbed Nathan before he finished scaling the railings of a lookout point atop a cliff.  When I look at that picture, I see a lightening bolt and my heart begins those tap dancing palpitations that signal cardiac arrest could be in my future.  3) Not all the things you learn in kindergarten are fun facts, such as bats can eat up to 600 mosquitoes an hour.  Some are more terrifying and practical in nature, like learning first-hand why Eddie Bauer makes monkey-themed leashes for children.  4) Sometimes, your teacher tells you she's going to teach you two things.  Then she sneaks in two extras.  (P.s. Audrey loved the field trip.  She spent the tour at the front of the line, holding hands with the geologist and asking her questions.  The rest of us heard several laughs from up front waft to the middle of the pack where we walked.  Later, our tour guide informed us that Audrey was assisting her in keeping things light by adding helpful comments like, "I'm glad I'm not as big as some of the people down here" when we had to squeeze through a section of the cave dubbed "Weight Watcher's Pass.") 

 

 

 

 

 

We happened to be visiting dear friends in Jacksonville a week after studying alligators and crocodiles, so our families loaded all the kids into two cars and headed to St. Augustine Alligator Farm.  We watched the largest alligator at the farm get its afternoon snack of rats.  It was a lesson in the food chain, and that high jumpers can come in unlikely packages. 

 

We're technically in our third week of summer.  We've settled on a rare day of summer in which our first event on the family calendar takes place at 6 pm.  Audrey has spent her morning in the center of a pool of library books, wearing a pair of flowered pajama pants that look like capri pants.  The legs hung to her ankles last year.  She's stretching out - in every possible way.  I don't know what she'll take with her from our kindergarten year.  She learned to read and perform simple addition and subtraction.  She read about Sumerians and Egyptians and Phoenicians.   We attended Parks and Rec programs on Squirrels, Beavers, and Foxes.  We performed experiments in the bathtub.  We caught a children's opera and a performance of The Nutcracker.  We forgot what a clean house looks like and remembered what it felt like to take our history book out to the hammock and spend a day lost at the library.   We stretched.  We grew.  We forgot our manners sometimes.  She helped me, and I helped her, get a little closer to who we were intended to be.  Kindergarten: 2012-2013.

 

 

 

 

For the Love of Dogs

Lately, Audrey has been on the outs with our dog, Emmy. Memories of having your tail pulled by an 18-month-old die hard, I suppose. Audrey has tried to overcome the past, offering toys for Em to play with, showering her with unwanted affection, and trying to feed her food from her bowl [a gesture which Em mistook as stealing and got Audrey banned from the laundry room (a.k.a. Emmy's room) for her own safety]. The fact that Em will fall all over herself to drop down by a child, any other child, and expose a warm belly for the scratching does nothing to soften the blow, I'm sure.

So yesterday, I told Audrey that she could show her love to the standoffish one by baking some dog treats. Always eager to help in the kitchen, Audrey donned her green apron and we got down to business. Dumping the ingredients into a big bowl and rolling out the dough were a huge success. However, I did not realize how difficult metal cookie cutters are for a two-year-old to push into thick dough. This, coupled with our current case of Don't-touch-itis, and our project hit a snag. Afraid the dough would dry out before making it to the oven, I went in search of another small cookie cutter, which made the process much smoother and much more exciting for Audrey - TWO cookie cutters to choose from! Of course, the only ones I could find were Halloween shapes,

which is why some of Emmy's current dog treats are shaped like bats. Of course, our little marine biologist claims they are sting rays. Hmm...bats and bones, so very, Spring? Interested in making your own dog treats? Find a slew of free recipes here.

A Focus on Gratitude

I realized this morning that I have seven posts (with a Week in Review thrown in for good measure) until Thanksgiving. While I had to count the days twice to believe that Thanksgiving is barely a week away, this month has already been filled with gratitude and reminders of the small (and large) blessings that stand as pushpins in the map of my life. It seems natural to use these posts before Thanksgiving to share the small things that make me smile, brighten my days, and remind me that gratitude can be a daily practice: the blessing are just waiting to be recognized.



A Practice in Gratitude: Day 1



My faults are dependable running hamsters persistently moving their transparent wheels. They must be exhausted (not to mention exhausting), yet those boys have stamina (yes, I'm sure making my faults male hamsters is some form of projection). So it's nice to take a moment when one of those faults miraculously pays off, and give those typically harped-at hamsters a rare pat on the back.

I have been meaning to get the Halloween decorations picked up for weeks. Other than the homemade bats, which got moved to the front door to welcome trick-or-treaters and stowed away a week later when they kept hitting the adults trying to enter the house, the Halloween decorations have not moved. So last night, thanks to my procrastination or regular tardiness (pick a fault, any fault), the Halloween candles that line the kitchen windowsill and fireplace were still there, just waiting to be lit.

Even unexpectedly, possibly more so when unexpected, candlelit rooms cast a bit of magic to an ordinary evening. Last night we found ourselves greeted with a power outage and a little bit of magic as we finally lit the Halloween candles and huddled in the glow between two rooms, just being. Right as we were discussing whether to venture out in search for food or bring out the fondue pot and wing dinner our version of camp-fire style, the lights came back on. And dinner, and life, and my over-worked hamsters went on just as before but dusted with candlelight.

Malfunctions and Distractions

I'm experiencing a little technical glitch - camera-wise. I'm hoping it's simply a dead battery issue. I meant to go buy some today. But there was a more pressing errand to be run and the sun was shining, which (in my book) makes it a one-errand day. Sunshine is not to be wasted walking up and down the aisles of a windowless bulk foods store, even if one doesn't manage to make it out in the sun for more than grilling dinner. Even if one spends the afternoon in the kitchen doing puzzles on the hardwood floor while listening to the chink of aluminum bats hitting leather balls just outside. A slumbering baby, a toddler's pride at completing her puzzle, and a kitchen made new by a sunlit cast - all ample reasons to stay unplugged and put off batteries for another day.

So the only pictures I have for you are these of on-going projects. The first (taken with my phone) of Audrey creating her version of sock puppets - complete with arms and legs - using a kit given to her by a friend. The second, a picture I took a couple days ago as I worked on a project I hope to finish soon. Audrey named her creations: Audrey, Fluffy, and Gassy, ahem (I think she was actually naming it Cassie, but I laughed and said, did you say Gassy? - and it was all over then). I've only given mine first initials.

Maybe, tomorrow we'll go buy batteries. Or, maybe, we'll keep running on another kind of energy.

For Posterity's Sake: Week in Review 68

Did you notice the little worm stowaway?

During spring, the only days the windows of the school bus weren't open were the days it rained. Even then, a few would find their way cracked a thumb's width in hopes of letting in a breeze. One morning, my mother saw me off to the bus just to get a call to come pick me up when I arrived at the elementary school. My eyes were as clear as the bright sky when I mounted the steps of the bus, three miles later I was still planted in my seat in the school parking lot, unable to see. A few miles of unbounded pollen and my eyes were swollen shut - a pseudo shield. As a child, springs were a study of opposites. A desire to see the world anew: eyes swollen shut. An itch to feel the grass against my barefeet: the itch of hives. The internal jolt of witnessing the first blooms of the season: the physical jolts of sneezing. Ah, spring. The season of tulips, robins, baseball bats, and sinus infections. I could write a sonnet about you - if I could just stop blowing my nose.


I have been dragging my feet in the seasonal grasses, so to speak, this week in writing my review as I battle a sinus infection. I would like to think I'm over the worst and that in the matter of a few days (and antibiotics) all will be right as rain. Poor Nate seems to have grabbed onto my short stick seasonal allergy-ridden DNA with both fists. The two of us have been sniffling our way through the week. This new trait is just one of many that leave me gawking at this little baby-come-man-child, who joined us at the family dinner table this week giving baby spoons and rice cereal a go. Audrey (undeterred by any season and its misgivings) begins each morning by grasping him in a bear hug, eliciting wide-mouthed smiles. She follows up with incidents like those listed below. I tell you, that girl is good medicine:


While driving last Sunday we passed a cornfield. Audrey pointed. "Look at that big garden!"


One particularly wooded route we frequent often elicits questions about trees. Monday, while driving this route, the following conversation ensued:
Audrey: How do trees feed us?
Kristin: The seeds of some trees are foods we eat. You know how mama eats walnuts on her cake and salads? Walnuts come from trees.
Audrey: What about doughnuts?


Tuesday, I watched her completing a puzzle on her own. She slid the last piece in place before yelling, "Booyah!"


Thursday afternoon she was busy with a game of pretend. "I'm Mary and I'm going to have a baby," she said. Then she looked at me. "And you're a donkey." (I'm trying not to read too much into this).


Audrey tends to keep the lights on after she's left the playroom. We've tried to convince her to shut the lights off many times to no avail (this may have something to do with some of the lights being Christmas lights left up for their whimsical appeal). Thursday night I overheard Jason telling her that if we don't turn the playroom lights off we might have to spend all our money on utilities, leaving no money left to spend on her. "Oh, okay, you can turn them off then," she said.


Friday morning, when my symptoms were pointing away from allergies and toward a sinus infection, I decided I needed to head things off with a trip to the doctor. We like to take our time, especially in the morning. I thought that, perhaps, if I were a bit creative with my wording, Audrey would feel a sense of responsibility toward our morning and want to move quickly. "Audrey, I need you to get dressed so you can take me to the doctor today," I said.
"Am I driving?" she asked.


When I was diagnosed with allergies at the age of eight, the allergist told my parents there was a chance I would outgrow them. Twenty-four years later, I'm still waiting. But I'm a late-bloomer, so I'm holding out hope. And hoping my kids outgrow me just as slowly.

Ingredients of Summer

Summers meant abandoned classrooms and reclaiming the open air. Forays into the woods to walk ankle-deep with minnows through a shallow creek bed. Glass jars, lids studded with nail holes, illuminated with lightening bugs' glow. Sleeping, tucked underneath the stars in my neighbor's treehouse - waking to breakfasts of crepes with strawberries and scrambled cheese eggs, recipes so familiar cookbooks were never opened. Pick-up games wherever a soccer ball and open backyard presented themselves. The clank of aluminum bats. Tennis balls pounding garage doors, seeking the sweet spots of rackets. Bicycle baskets and roller skates rumbling against pavement. Skinned knees and grass-stained shirts. Hide 'n seek at dusk. Popsicles melting against warm hands. Sprinklers and slick bare feet. The clang of the dinner bell and shouts of my mother calling me home. And ice cream. Always, ice cream.