So I Bake

If you've never experienced the art of finding a daycare provider for your children, lucky you.  We currently have a God-send of a daycare lady whom the kids couldn't be happier with.  I believe she truely loves our kids as her own which makes going to work so much easier on me. 

Monday night the bomb dropped.  With tears in her eyes, she handed me the letter explaining how they would be moving to Indiana in 2 weeks to help care for her husbands ailing parents. 

First thought:  Oh no you don't.

Second thought: I'm quitting my job.  We can live on rice and beans.  I wonder whats involved with Hawkeye health insurance for the kids?  I can start my own daycare, no biggie.

Third thought: This totally sucks. Where's the wine?

Fourth thought: Perhaps if I cry hard enough I'll wake up from this nightmare.

Fifth thought: If one more person tells me 'it will all be okay' I just may rip your head off. 

Did I mention I don't handle switching daycares well?  I actually find it one of the most emotionally draining, gut-wrenching, tension-causing issues of raising children to date.  (Keep in mind we havent hit the 'teens' yet)  Lets just say I'd rather go through childbirth without an epidural and need an emergency episiotomy than have go through the daycare search.

In the meantime, I've realized when I get stressed out and emotionally unstable, I bake.  I'm like one big angry baker. 

 

I have some cheerful helpers to see me through. 

 

Go ahead Molly.  You get the spatula.  Maisie will show you how this is done.

 

We hope to have our daycare selection made within the next couple of days.  In the meantime, feel free to stop out for some baked goods.  It's like the Sod House Bazaar around here.

TGIT (Thank Goodness it's Thursday)

Runaway

Friday night was the annual lighting of the Christmas lights and parade around the square.  Kratt followed us. 

 

Mike put Kratt inside his coat like a homeless man.  It was pathetic and cute at the same time.  Kratt got nervous, jumped out of Mikes’ coat and ran down the alley behind the jewelry store.  We figured Kratt knew his way and didn’t think much of it.

 

Saturday morning Kratt did not come running inside for breakfast as usual.  In fact, he did not come back all day.  Mike and Ross walked all over town searching with no luck.  I drove around town scanning porches and yards for him.  I thought I spotted him a couple times but it was just Hawkeye, another orange cat who lives down the road.  I called the Winterset vet offices and left messages that he was missing in case someone brought him in.  I even put a posting on the Madison County Mama’s Facebook page to keep an eye out for a missing cat.  Again, what in the world have I become?

 

Mike said each time he went downstairs and saw Kratt’s food and water bowl, it made him sad.  Ross asked we had any pictures of Kratt, because he didn’t want to forget what he looked like and that all he wanted for Christmas was Kratt back.

 

I did an online search on how to lure a missing cat home.  It suggested we retrace our steps, call his name, set his litter box outside our door and then wait.  We’re naturally impatient people.  After dinner we bundled the kids up, grabbed a flashlight and a Mason jar of vodka (not for Kratt) and began our search party.  We retraced out steps, walked down alley’s while shining a light in open garages and under cars.   We found a black cat twice and a white and yellow striped cat once.  No Kratt.  We opted against a candlelight vigil and headed home.

 

In the morning, I was the first one to wake.  I went downstairs, opened the back door and called for him. I heard a small ‘meow’ and saw his orange body running up the deck steps and into the house.  I hollered upstairs, “Kratt’s back!”

 

It was early Christmas at our house Sunday morning.  I sort of felt like Carol Brady in ‘A Very Brady Christmas’ and felt the urge to sing “Oh Come All Ye Faithful”,  But I didn’t.

 

At the end of the cat-rescue article I read, it said if you love your cat and your cat loves you, it’s not necessary to look for your missing cat; it will come find you.

A Thanksgiving Hike

Aside from the obvious, my 'high' on Thanksgiving was taking a hike with my boy. 

 

Sure I could have stayed inside sipping wine and nibbling cheese (and enjoyed every second of it), but there was a 7-year-old boy who was desperate to go hiking with someone.  I couldn't let him down.

Mike was on the verge of hacking up a lung due to a repiratory epidemic going around town, so I was the next likely candidate for the hike. 

 

We started out in good spirits.  I got a little camera happy; but that comes with the territory.  Ross was loving the fresh air, the smell of fall leaves, the sunlight pouring in around us and the occasional stab and bloody spot from a thorny bush that made our hike feel extra organic.  I was a sport too- I'd like to thank the wine at lunch for some of that enthusiasm. 

 

 

 

 

We laughed, we talked, we had a little spat then made-up, I even let him say a cuss word and didn't get after him.  If you need to say a cuss word, the woods is a darn good place to do it. 

 

 

He crossed this barbed wire fence.  He called the fence 'rhubarb'.  I found it hilarious.

At one point I looked straight up through the bare tree branches and into the clear blue sky to thank Mother Nature for... well she knows what I thanked her for. 

Divine Goodness

Thanksgiving is defined as a public acknowledgment or celebration of divine goodness.  This gets me thinking about what I wish for my family… a celebration of divine goodness?  What is that? 

Ross asked me to bring lime Jello to Thanksgiving dinner this year, Molly just had a plantar wart froze off the bottom of her foot and Maisie won’t let me wash the dried egg noodle out of her hair.  Mike scraped a zit of my back with his fingernail this morning without warning and it torked me off.  I asked him if he was born in a barn and was angry with him for the remainder of the morning. 

Divine goodness… a celebration…

Molly fell off her booster seat and landed on her face at breakfast this morning, Ross kept asking me what would happen if the beef and noodles I made for his lunch turned to goo in his thermos and caused him to gag at lunch like it did last time, Maisie was crying because her elbow was bleeding after tripping over a matchbox car and skidding across the dining room floor.  Were running late for work again and Maisie’s just gonna have to deal with a bun in her hair.  I can’t get the noodle out without a scissors.  I slam the dishwasher door out of pure frustration and hear water glasses shatter inside.  Molly wants to eat my oatmeal (good luck my love) and Mike is apologizing for the ‘zit situation’. 

Gratitude…

How I crave an hour of calm, a morning of peace, to be able to give each of my children the individual attention they deserve.  One day I know I will have it. One day our home will be quiet.  One day our home will be still.  The floors will stay clean, yelling will not be heard blocks from our home, laundry will stay caught up, band-aids will not need to be replenished as frequently and towels will stay hung.  In the same breath, the lack of calm happening in our home means a lot of life is happening.  And for that, I don’t want it to stop.

Although exhausting, I’m tremendously aware of the gift I’ve been given to be called ‘mommy’ by 3 little people.  I want them to gather many Thanksgiving memories of family, food and outside fun, but more than that, I want them to understand and appreciate all the divine goodness in their little lives. 

So we’ll take our lime Jello to Thanksgiving dinner, pray to God and acknowledge all which we have been given with sincere gratitude and wonder.  In the meantime, my back, like Maisie's elbow, will heal…

From our home to yours, Happy Thanksgiving.

Cha Cha Cha Chia

I’ve been eating milled chia seed flour…on purpose. I add it to smoothies, yogurt and my overnight steel-cut oatmeal recipe. It’s supposed to be really good for your heart.  I have to admit, eating chia seeds is something you want to ease into slowly. 

I had the container out a couple nights ago when Ross began to study the label.  It says at the top, ‘The most nutrient rich whole food in the world’.  Once he read this, he decided he’d best eat some. 

He wasn’t about to touch a smoothie, yogurt or oatmeal.  Therefore, he opened the cereal cupboard, poured a bowl of Pops cereal, dumped in some milk and a scoop of chia flour.  He made a big production of eating the cereal/chia mixture, similar to first time he ate an apple.  I’m assuming his system handled it okay as there was no mention of ‘slick-poops’ within the next 24-48 hours. I never considered that perhaps sugary cereal negates the effects of the chia seeds. 

Hmmmm. 

He’s smart.  I love him.

 

Engineer Print

Since taking down Molly's crib, there's been a big empty space on the wall.  We have holes in our walls, a half-painted staircase, weird dips in our floors and just this morning I scraped a dried piece of brown rice off the baseboard in the dining room (at least that's what I'm telling myself it was), yet the big empty space on Molly's wall was what bothered me. 

Do you remember that photo of the girls from Squirrel Hunt Weekend?  You know, the cute one? 

 

Well guess what?  I printed the photo at Walgreen's, then I drove over to Office Max.  I talked to Bart- he's the guy who works behind the copy counter.  He and I are on a first name basis; more on that in another post.  I told Bart I needed a 24-by-36-inch Engineer Print. 

 

 

The empty space is officially filled. I asked Molly to sit in her reading nook so I could get her in the shot- she said she couldn't though.  She was too busy.  By the way, the Office Max 24-by-36-inch engineer print cost me all of $4.79.  I already had the frame stashed in a closet.  The engineer print does come out a bit dark; I can live with that though.  Apparently dark prints and rice-stuck-on-baseboards are within my comfort zone.  Go figure.

November 14th

Birthday Highs:

·        Waking up to the “ding” of a birthday text from Mike.

·        Opeing an e-card from Aunt Judy on my g-mail account.

·        Receiving a birthday text from my sister on my way to work.

·        Receiving another birthday text from my little brother… followed by 4D ultrasound photos of my soon-to-be niece or nephew.

·        Opening an email from my little brothers wife… followed by a discussion of whether the photos looked more male or female.

·        Opening my g-mail inbox at work to find birthday wishes from both Mike’s mom and sister.

·        My phone dinging constantly throughout the day alerting me that people were posting “Happy Birthday Heidi, hope you have a great day” on my Facebook page. (or wall- whatever that’s called)

·        Receiving an email from one of my best buds to go out for birthday lunch with her Monday.

·        My mom sending me a message that her card would be showing up in the mail on Thursday since the post office was closed on Monday.

·        Coming home to a birthday card in the mail from Mike’s Grandma and Grandpa.

·        Ross giving me his birthday present.  A book he wrote me made from small pieces of paper with a hard-cover on the front. (He actually cut apart his crayon box to make the cover ‘hard-cover’).  The book is titled “I love my mom”.  I’ve decided to carry it in my wallet for the rest of my life.

·        Maisie making me a birthday card out of purple construction paper with drawings of a rocket on it.  She also gave me a bookmark she took from the library last week.  She also said if there was only one ice cream sandwich left in the freezer (which there wasn’t) she would let me have it because it was my birthday.

·        Molly hugging my neck tightly, followed by her pulling my hair with her sticky tootsie roll fingers then yanking off her diaper…we need to work on that.

·        Dancing to Wiggle Worms in the kitchen with the kids while I made their dinner.

·        Mike coming home.

·        Sharing glasses of wine with Mike and his parents.

·        Listening to the sweetest voice-mail message from my oldest brothers’ family on my phone.

·        Getting to talk to my Grandma Green who called to wish me a Happy Birthday.

·       And of course, thinking of Grandma C as I opened my birthday cards …imagining the card she would have sent to have been big, funny, musical and signed, G’funk.

 

I am loved.

Reading Nook

The baby crib came down on Sunday. I suppose it could have been a sad moment.  But it wasn’t. 

I decided it to be crafty and create a ‘reading nook’ in Molly’s room by re-purposing the crib mattress and a bookshelf. 

 

 

Each of my kids has gone (or is currently going) through the phase where their favorite book was the “Big Bus” book.  I admit it’s one of my top 5 too.  It’s short and the pages are made from cardboard.  I know it by heart.  Mike and I read it to Maisie one night while she was throwing-up from the stomach flu and Mike and I were on the verge of throwing up from the wine-flu.  I found the book to be absolutely hilarious that night.

 

See Big Bus out on the streets.  See him smile at those he meets.  Stopping here and stopping there. Hop on for a ride, please pay your fare.  He won’t get lost wherever he goes.  Time to rest, time to doze.

 

 

 

Love that story.  Love these kids. Love wine.

I'm glad we had this talk.

 

 

Feeling Blue

Molly loves to sneak in my purse- usually for gum. On Saturday she was after my phone.  From the looks of it, I'm guessing she had a pretty important story share over the phone. 

I did mention this all happened on Saturday... temps in the 70's, hence the lack of clothing. 

I could imagine why you might think she looked a little chilly- almost a little bluish.

 

She wasn't cold at all.  She got her hands on a Halloween stamper and decided to use it like lipstick, blush, wall decor, body paint, soap...  This all happened before a Fareway adventure.  We like to keep people guessing about us there.  A couple folks made comments- most just stared before quickly glancing away. 

 

I think it cracked Molly up.  Anything for a laugh.

The Photo From the Church

 

On Trick-Or-Treat night, one of the Winterset church's had an event with face painting, pony rides, carnival games, a free photo, hot dog dinner... the whole works.  Smart idea if you ask me.  This is the photo they took of my babes.  The shoe/costume combination cracks me up each time I look at it. 

An Excuse

Now that the "Squirrel Hunt" results are forever documented in Boydbabe history, I can fill you in on what happens behind-the-scenes during Squirrel Hunt Weekend; trust me, there's more to it than meets the eye.

It all starts when 9 cousins and their parents get together at GG and Papa's house.  Add a smoked turkey, an outdoor trampolene, a make-shift beauty salon in the basement, an indoor jump house surrounded with patio furniture cushions, alcohol, a maternity photo shoot as well as a photo shoot involving 9 kids ranging in age from 1 to 7, exploding rockets from pop bottles, tractors and hay racks, a dead deer being gutted under the clothesline, 5 (9-by-13-inch) freezer meals, did I mention alcohol?, one emotional breakdown that could only be fixed with fake fart sounds, a dinner discussion on beating chicken, a 1st birthday party, a slide show, haircuts, laughs, smiles and memories.

Let me set the record straight.  It's not just a squirrel hunt, that's just our excuse...

My Dad shot a deer. 

 

He explains how to properly gut a deer to eliminate stink.

 

Our make-shift salon

 

Mom putting meals together.  That big enamel pot in the photo makes this even more nostalgic.

 

The girls.

 

Molly and Laura

 

Maisie helps Laura put her shoes on.

 

Cole jumps on his exploding rocket.

 

Papa teaches Ross proper shooting form.

 

The trampolene is always a hit.

 

Heather was popular with the kids Sunday morning.

 

There's nothing better than a "bubble" with cousins

Election Tuesday

 

While getting ready for work this morning, I overheard the following conversation between Ross and Maisie.

 

Ross: “Hey Maiz, who would you vote for, Smit Romney or Barak Obama?”

Maisie: “Um, who’s Bama?”

Ross: “You don’t want to vote for Bama.  You should vote for Smit Romney, he has 18 grandkids.  Obama only has 2 daughters, no brothers.”

Maisie: "What does Bama look like?"

Ross: “He’s a black man… I can show you downstairs.”

Maisie: “He’s downstairs?”

Happy Election Day!

Squirrel Hunt 2012

This past weekend marked the annual Squirrel Hunt in Long Grove.  Target practice took place Saturday afternoon, in anticipation for Sunday mornings' hunt. 

I'm proud to annouce Mike was able to bring the squirrel trophy home this year.

No, those are not all his squirels.  I think he shot 7.

 

Ross was so proud of his daddy.  Ross announced that daddy was gonna buy Ross  a 22 if daddy won the hunt this year.  Ross doesn't forget anything.

Something about the bucket in the background that just makes this photo even better.

Until next year...

 

How do you like your eggs?

A close friend and I were catching up when the topic of "eggs" was brought up.   I'm sure you're familiar with the movie, Runaway Bride. There's a scene in the movie where Ike (Richard Gere) tells Maggie (Julia Roberts),  "You're so lost you don't even know how you like your eggs". We analyzed that statement for a moment, then moved on to equally pressing topics.  Deep down, her and I both know our true talent is reinacting Sally Fields character in Steel Magnolias... yes, the cemetery scene. 

Anyway, the egg preference discussion came to mind this morning as I made breakfast for my girls.  Maisie requested eggs... "you know, eggs like Daddy", she said.
"Okay, hard cooked or scrambled", I asked.  "I want the ones with the cheese circle in the middle", she explained. 

Of course, silly me, she was asking for fried eggs.  (I'm guessing she assumes the yolk is a blob of cheese).  I made one for Maisie and one for Molly.  Maisie inhaled hers within seconds and was ready for another.  As soon as I cut Molly's egg and the runny yolk spread across the plate, she yelled, "Gross!" and began to cry.  Maisie  couldn't have been happier and went on to eat 3 more.  I listed off as many 'egg options' as I could think of for Molly before she replied, 'amble agg'.  Perfect, scrambled eggs it is. 

My girls are different.  They will always have different opinions, different personalities, different talents and different hair colors. 

Maisie likes to be cuddled, read to, dolled up and I often overhear her telling the cat how much she loves him in a sing-song, high-pitched voice.  Molly, on the other hand, will yell "NO!" at a stranger if they look at her, will discipline the cat to no end, tries to clean the house by shoving anything she can find into the trash, will eat an entire pack of gum as 'snack', and just this week started putting herself to bed in her big girl bed- no questions asked.

I hope they always embrace their individuality.  But more than that, I hope they never forget how they like their eggs.