Choose to Celebrate

I recently posted about how silly it would be not to celebrate every chance you have.  It could be a celebration of the 100th day of school, or because it's Friday, or because you aced your spelling test, or more importantly because it's Papa Boyd's birthday.  We celebrated.

 

The bread I baked nearly exploded. 

Ross opened the oven door and said it looked like ball-sacks. 

I guess I don't see the resemblance. 

We played games, although some were more successful than others.

 

The kids were super-pumped.  And we hadn't even had dessert yet.

 

But they're kids.  Turns out kids are naturally good at celebrating. Maybe even more than adults.  

 

 

My kids are constantly teaching me.  Birthday parties aren't about how old you are, whether the bread resembles ball sacks, whether the words on the birthday card are spelled correctly or whether the glass breaks; birthday parties are simply a way to show someone how treasured they truly are.

 

Happy Birthday Papa!

When they get along

When I find something the three of them enjoy doing at the same time...

 

 

I rejoice.

 

 

Yesterday was glitter playdoh day.  Molly requested purple playdoh that smelled like toothpaste.  Maisie wanted pink playdoh that smelled like cherries while Ross asked for blue playdoh that smelled like cookie dough.  Luckily for them, I have lots of extract in my pantry.

Meanwhile, I've noticed it appears my baking sheets have either been through war or were utilized by Christopher Columbus.

 

 

 

 

 

 

I told Ross to look at me.  This is the look I got.
 

 

I asked him to try again.  This time without looking as though he wanted to murder me.

 

So I got the "Mom, you are so weird look" from him instead. 

 

This only lasted about 30 minutes.  After that, chunks of playdoh were being thrown into the air vents, Maisie's 'cookies' were destroyed by her brother and Molly smooshed all the playdoh together which made everyone upset.

 

Is it spring yet?

 

 

100th Day

On Monday, Maisie came home uber-excited about the 100th day of school being celebrated Tuesday.  She explained how they would play games, bring 100 of something to school (she chose toothpicks), have extra snacks, make hats, sing songs and on, and on, and on.  Ross looked mopey as he worried his teacher didn't realize it was going to be the 100th day of school.  He told me how their 'day of school chart' was still in the 80's and somehow their class quit keeping track.  I knew his teacher wouldn't miss the 100th day of school celebration.  How could an elementary teacher not know it was the 100th day of school?  As he and I debated the possibility of a teacher overlooking the 100th day of school, I glanced over at my Molly.  That's when I realized it was a big day for her and I too.  It was the 100th day she and I have gotten spend together.  100 days of 'us'.  The days she and I have together are days I will treasure for the rest of my life.  I desperately wish there was a way to bottle this time so I could savor it down the road.  So with that thought, I decided she and would celebrate our own 100th day of 'just us'. 

We packed a sack lunch and visited Maisie in the cafeteria for lunch.  As we approached the hot lunch line, I became concerned someone had vomited as the smell was distinctly that of sour stomach.  I discreetly looked for a custodian sprinkling the blue vomit solidifier somewhere, and was caught off guard when I realized the smell was actually the chicken Alfredo pizza which was being served. 

After lunch, we stopped in Ross' room to make sure his teacher hadn't forgotten it was the 100th day of school say hello.  He was having fun with his friends, chomping on a candy bar and laughing.  Whew.

Molly and I returned home, created a collage out of a Women's Fitness Magazine, made a 100-day crown before she took a bath with her Barbies.  Lucky for us, the day is still young.  We snagged an uneaten rectangle of Chicken Alfredo pizza off Maisie's lunch tray and I'm reheating it for after school snacks.  I'm planning to see how long it takes Ross to ask 'who puked'.

Happy 100th Day!

Confident

Before we were even engaged, I couldn't help but picture our wedding day.  How would he propose?  What songs would we dance to?  What would my dress look like?  As I walked down the aisle, I was confident beyond confident I couldn't possibly love this man more.

 

Then 10 years happened and I realized I was wrong.

 

It became ever so clear when my heart skipped a beat watching him dance in the kitchen with my 3-year-old. I cringed at the thought of the two of them dancing with Molly wearing an actual wedding dress while her daddy wore a tux.  And again, the look of true love upon his face made me confident beyond confident I couldn't possibly love this man more...

 

 

 

either could she.



Growth Chart

It all started with Pinterest.  Doesn't is always?

 

I kept thinking about that spot behind the kitchen door where I mark my kids' heights.  I couldn't find the heart to paint over the growth marks last spring when we were getting the house ready to sell.  To me, those marks tell stories. 

When Maisie passed Ross' very first mark... Ross' 7th birthday height... the day Molly realized she hadn't been measured on the wall yet and Ross helped her stand just right against the wall.  Of all the things I seem to fret over, one of those was someday having to leave those marks behind when and if we ever move.

 

Enter Pinterest.

 

I saw the idea quite some time ago.  Last fall, I took the first step and asked a reputable woodsmith for a tall board.  Well, this woodsmith has a mind very similar to mine, therefore a standard straight board would not suffice.  He handed me a board overflowing with character, unique to any other and as icing on the cake, he harvested it from the woods in which he lives.  Therefore, this board was priceless before I'd even touched it.

 

I have not found the perfect place for it yet, however it will not be hidden behind a door. 

 

 

It will lean against a wall where I can admire it, and appreciate where it originated.

 

 

And it will forever mark the growth of my children.

 

Nose in the Books

Within 30 seconds of coming home from school, this was where I found my kids...

Maisie desperately needed to pee, but insisted on finishing her new "Frozen" book first. 

 

 

 Ross wanted to finish the last two pages of a Goosebumps book before taking off his shoes and starting his homework.  

 

I didn't know whether to be concerned or begin looking for where my real kids went.  I decided to grab my camera instead.

 

The whole world opened to me when I learned to read. ~ Mary McLeod Bethune

 

  

High/Low

GG and Papa came to Winterset Sunday.  They spent every single minute playing with the kids.  Ross made sure of it.  They stayed for dinner and left after baths. 

 

Molly's 3-1/2.  She got her first haircut on Sunday.

 

This picture makes me smile.  The fine hair, the protective sister, and those hands.

 

 

 

Papa and my girls.

 

GG, Papa and the girls.  Hmmm, where's Ross?  Why isn't he in the photo?

 

This is why.

 

They played a pretty intense game of hide-and-go-seek.  Ross climbed a tree.

 

While GG and Maisie just hid in the neighbors yard.

 

As I tucked the kids into bed, there was one

central theme.

 

Me: What was your high today?

My kids: GG and Papa coming to our house today.

Me: What was your low?

My kids: When they left.

 

I couldn't argue with that.

 

 

American Maisie

As I kid, I remember the weekend I changed my name to Rachel.  Not a single person called me Rachel though, so I went back to Heidi.  Go figure. 

 

Last night I noticed Maisie was looking so grown-up.  I told her she looked like a teenager.  Well, that's pretty much the best compliment you can give a 5-year-old and she spent the next 10 minutes staring at herself in a full-length mirror. 

 

While putting her to bed, she asked me what her teenage name should be.  I explained most people keep their name forever and that we chose her name because we think it's beautiful.  It fits a little girl, teenager, young woman, mom and grandma perfectly. 

 

She told me she still wanted to change her name to a 'teenage' name' and responded, "Rose Petal. No wait.  Not Rose Petal.  Princess Rose Petal.  No, not that.  I got it. From now on, I want you to call me American Maisie". 

So there you have it.  We'll see how long this lasts.

 

While tucking Ross into bed, we decided to pray Daddy made it home safely in the blizzard.  I started thumbing through a bible for a relevant prayer, without much success.  I was jumping all over the pages, reading bits of proverbs and psalms.  Nothing was making sense and Ross was completely lost.  That's when he looked at me with a look of pure confusion and said,

"This guy doesn't know what he's talking about".  Something tells me God appreciated that comment as much as I did.  We made up our own prayer.

 

Meanwhile, Molly's been running around the house singing the "I'm a Daisy" song .  The lyrics (to the tune of 'Oh My Darlin'), follow:

 

I'm a Daisy,

Daisy Girl Scout

And I'll tell you something too,

I'm a loyal Daisy Girl Scout

And my colors are true blue.

 

She's not a Daisy, but her sister is.  She's a huge fan of American Maisie.

 

 

Looney for Loom Bands

I'm 12 years old again, sitting in either Stacey or Erin's room making friendship bracelets after school.  The embroidery thread is taped to the floor and we make bracelets while listening to Kokomo on a cassette player until our 5:15 curfew. 

 

Seeing Ross dig out his Tupperware of loom bands and studying a U-tube tutorial explaining how to master the 'fishhook' technique took me back 24 years.  I think I got another wrinkle and age spot just thinking about it. 

 

Maisie demonstrates the beginning of her bracelet while Molly does a little photo-bombing.

 

 Ross struggled more than Maisie.  His fingers aren't quite as nimble.

 

Meanwhile, Molly waits patiently for me to show her how to make one.

 

I got it started for her.  It went downhill from here.

 

I can't get over how focused she was.

 

 

Maisie's finished bracelet.  Not perfect, but completed.

 

On the other-hand, it's two hours later and Ross is redoing his for the 4th time. 

 

 

If you, or someone you know is desperately seeking a fishhook loom band bracelet, please let us know.  We seem to have a large supply.

 

Ballerinas

I think I started something with the Glamour Shot thing.

Saturday was declared 'ballerina day'.  Not a national holiday, but one we chose to celebrate regardless.

 

Ballerinas wear buns.  The below photo was taken as an example of how a ballerina might style her hair.

 

Maisie begged and begged to get her hands on my camera.  I told her to take a photograph of her favorite thing in the living room.

 

Below is what she captured.

It's one of my favorite subjects too.

Glamour Shots

Ross had Boy Scouts Thursday night.  The girls were bawling they couldn't go to the meeting and Mike was feeling guilty leaving them so upset.  However, the topic was knife safety and the thought of our girls holding knives was not on my to-do-list for Thursday.

 

The situation called for serious intervention.  I knew there was only one way... one suggestion... two words that would remedy their agony. 

 

Glamour Shots.

 

Two words that took me back to 1992 as I considered looking for a pair of Guess jeans, a banana clip and the krimper.

 

But it worked.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Mike returned from Scouts and asked if we'd been playing Glamour Shots. 

 

He never ceases to amaze me.