Seasonal Steerosaurus

There are a few things in this world that I've found I am already too old to enjoy.
Wearing barrettes, for example; it's bobby pins now.

There are many more things that I suspect I should reconsider at my age but continue to do anyway.
Dancing at pizza joints, perhaps (but only when there's a live band).

And then there's a third category: things I can't wait to do when I'm old.
First on that noble list is owning a cement goose.

You know the kind; they sit stoically on porches and doorsteps of septuagenarians, dressed seasonally in handmade knitted capes and little hats. There is a change of outfits for each month, preferably.
And those months not lucky enough to house their own major holiday would still be assigned a theme. Perhaps an apple apron for September? Maybe a tiny goose-sized umbrella for April? (I would foreseeably need to hot glue that on..)

And yes, I've considered fighting the stereotype and investing in a goose now, at thirty-six. But then I thought that maybe our Steerosaurus, leftover party favor turned interesting living room decor, might well serve the purpose.
I noted that his paper-mache skull and horns make the perfect blank slate.

So while my options are a bit limited due to his odd shape (head only); he does indeed dress for the holidays. Thus far we've celebrated Christmas, Valentine's day, and St Patrick's Day together.







Ah, the things my family lets me get away with. ;)

AL

Seeing

To clarify from my last post, the writing class I'm attending is very small; not at a college or university but at our local arts center, low key and comfortable.
And, as I mentioned, my most difficult task there is creating fiction.  Making up stories seems infinitely more difficult than simply putting random thoughts to paper, as I do here. So while I did complete my character sketch, it was one of the few pieces thus far that I was embarrassed to read aloud.  It felt foreign, forced.

I spent a lot of time thinking about this last weekend. I thought of how much I like real people.

I thought of a funny conversation between friends at our book club meeting Friday night; their varied reaction to the same story.
I thought of how personalities evolve; namely, that of my Max whom I've suddenly discovered is no longer shy, but outgoing and funny -- his actions to prove it.
I thought of the two toddlers sitting next to me at a performance on Saturday night. How their mother was borderline abusive and whether or not they'd ever manage to break that cycle.
I thought of the group of women (and three men) dancing with absolute abandon to lyrics by my favorite shoeless poet during a work out.
I thought of the sweet little Chinese boy whom I shared a moment with on Sunday while picking up Jer's pork fried rice, his mother working so hard in the restaurant while he kept himself entertained amongst the patrons. He was practicing the script of those intricate chinese characters with the aid of a Chinese/American picture book. I sat down near him, he smiled up at me and pointed to a picture.  We began a game in which I'd say the word in English, he'd repeat it and then say it in Chinese. Most likely a teaching game that his mother constructed. I wonder if he knows that she works long hours in the oil and steam just for him.

I saw all of this and more, in only a 48 hour period.
There are so many stories already out there.  Stories that are absolutely true and possibly even interesting.

Lastly, while purging old coloring books from our art cabinet, I came across Kirby's sixth grade writing folder.  In it, he'd written a very glowing review for Where the Red Fern Grows:
"The reason that this book is so amazing is because of the vivid detail described by Wilson Rawls. He grew up where this story takes place in the Cherokee country of the Ozark Mountains. His descriptions of the valleys and forests and rivers were seen by his own eyes.
Seeing is the key to being a magnificent author."  

So maybe that is all it takes.

(Another great quote from that report: "Dogs are great creatures. Why do they always die?"
He read Old Yeller that year as well, poor guy.)

AL

I Spy... (no new ideas)

I'm trying to brainstorm a character outline for my writing homework.

Instead I'm staring at my bookshelves and thinking of the kids' I Spy books.
You know the ones; they're addictive and sometimes frustrating, and you wonder who collected all those interesting little objects?

I made my own.

Click the pic to enlarge and see what you can do.
(I refuse to apologize for too much sun in the photographs, because, well, it's sun. In Ohio. In February.)


Can you find three Santas, a Batman, homemade candle with wick;
Felt flowers, small owl, and a big ball of sticks?



Do you see pretty twins, and a fat orange bird;
Two horses, a geisha and shells glued absurd?

Ahh, do you hate me? ;)
That was fun, but I still have no fictional character.
I learned in the very first week of writing class, that while my words flow nicely and I write well under pressure, I am quite vain and unimaginative. Just like the Toby Keith song, I wanna talk about me - what I think, what I like, what I know, what I want, what I seeeeeeee.

Today I see that book shelf. No fake people lurking there that aren't already taken in those pages, all perfectly binded and complete.

Don't you love the feeling you get when turning the last page of a really good book? Just imagine how wonderful it must feel to write the last page.
I bet it's a lot easier than the first.

AL

Happy Hearts Day!

You are being visited by the spirits of valentines
Past, Present and Future.

That is to be an olive, of course; my Valentine likes olives.

Pattern from Sewingseed on Etsy.

 Lilah's Star Wars valentines are here on culdesaccool.com,

found via Pinterest and a good friend. 

***
Also please be impressed that it's only Valentine's eve and Jer has already performed two romantic feats: he caught a mouse for me, and he signed up for Couples Jazzercise this Friday night.

At least one of those deserves its own post.
I know which one will have better pictures!


xoxo
AL

Book Review: It's a Book

I think I'd like to make this a regular feature.
Regular, as in, I'll do it again sometime but I'm not sure when. ;)

What I do know is that I have a very good inaugural edition.
Introducing 'It's a Book' by Lane Smith.
Have you seen it? We were lucky enough to be sent an autographed copy by Lilah's "godbrother" Vince.   Lilah unwrapped and read it to me right away; and while I was familiar with the premise, it was so much more charming that I expected.
A funny monkey is reading a book while a donkey barrages him with questions such as "Do you need a password? Screen name? Wi-fi? Can you make characters fight?" The monkey patiently answers again and again "No, it's a book".
Finally, he shares his book with the donkey, who naturally enjoys it so much that he doesn't give it back.  Poor monkey is forced to go to the library to fetch another.  The donkey shouts after him, "Don't worry, I'll charge this one up for you when I'm done." To which the monkey (technically, the mouse under the monkey's hat) replies "You don't need to. It's a book, jackass."

Okay, so maybe I shouldn't have told you the whole story, but I wanted you to share in the joy that Lilah and I experienced as we read this together for the first time.  It was so much fun.  Of course, that last word is a new one for her, definitely not one of her Kindergarten sight words.  So I did explain how the word is not to be used incorrectly. But I also stressed that she absolutely has my permission to say it to a donkey, especially one that has commandeered her book.

AL

The Birthmark Gave it Away

I don’t mean to sound smug, but it’s not every Mom that supplements their teen’s World Studies chapter on Russian politics by sending in communist nesting dolls.
That’s right, here we have Gorbachev, Brezhnev, Khrushchev, Stalin and Lenin. The smaller they get, the meaner they were.

I was reviewing Kirbs' homework, and not really understanding any of it, when I thought of these little guys, and guessed that his World Studies teacher, Mr. S (who has a blonde mustache closely resembling that of General Custard) might appreciate them.

It was several years ago that the Queen of Thrift a.k.a. my mom handed them to me and said "I picked these up for you because they looked interesting, though the big one does have a smudge on top". To which I replied, "That's not a smudge, that's Gorbachev!"
I then hesitated for only a moment before displaying them prominently in my living room.
Might guests consider me a political extremist? Is it in poor taste to place communist nesting dolls in front of my Idiot's Guide to Understanding Catholicism?
I decided that it simply added intrigue.

Now, however, after reading a little more from a high school history book, I've realized that some of these guys were really bad. And I don't like bad guys.
So I think, if it's okay with Mom, that I'll donate the set to Mr. S and his World Studies class.
Because, of course, his job is to teach the bad so that we can learn to recognize the good.
It comes in all shapes and sizes.

AL

Home

Jer's annual football game in Ft Lauderdale took place this past weekend. Which means this is the time of year when I post disparaging comments about him, cleverly disguised as jokes.
There was a moment on Sunday, while shoveling the driveway, that I thought to myself "Jer could just jump in the ocean right now. He could dig his hairy toes in the warm sand and then jump right into the ocean if he wanted." 
And then I went inside before shoveling his side of the driveway.

But for the most part, I've been happy at home. We didn't get as much snow as originally expected and I even found myself a little disappointed by that.

With Max on the Injured Reserve and Kirby's mock trial season at a close, we stayed close to home. The boys did persuade me with great effort to attend a SuperBowl party; other than that, we've done this: 

 

Please note that our 'Groovin Through The 60's' puzzle was 1000 pieces(!) though technically we put together only 998.  That's what happens when you buy puzzles at thrift stores. 
And, no, that is NOT an adult coloring book.  Though it does technically say "coloring book" on the cover, it's really more of a collection of illustrated song lyrics. 
You see, I received new colored pencils for my birthday and they needed breaking in.
(Pencils thanks to Elaine)
(Illustrated lyrics collection courtesy of EmW)
(She & Him album gifted from Sara)
(Told you I had sweet friends)

AL

All Good: BDay Update

Just like little girls, my birthday was full of sugar and spice and everything nice.... and actual little girls.

It involved apples and cinnamon, cupcakes with colors, and Diamond versus Manilow.

I learned something new with old friends,  and looked at old things in a new light.

But most important is that Lilah (and she's usually quite candid) says I don't look any older at all.

Love,

AL

Choosy Moms Choose Jif

As I get older (and this week I am officially getting older), I thankfully become a little more self aware. As a kid, I struggled -- I didn't take the time to really sit and think about why I felt angry, or what made me happy -- I just reacted, usually poorly. I would get that uncomfortable feeling in my gut and literally have no idea why it was there.

Now, however, I know a few truths about myself, some unpleasant, some pleasant, some deep and some superficial. For instance, I know that I must put sunscreen on my upper lip or else the resulting freckles will resemble a mustache.
I know that I'm not always aware when I'm giving someone a dirty look, my face can be a direct mirror of my thoughts, and it's often not pretty.
 I know that when I'm all wound up, a spoonful of peanut butter calms me more than a glass of wine... though sometimes I choose both.
And I can be completely calm in chaos until, of course, I'm not. I boil over just like a pot of water on the stove; all that scary hissing and smoke when really it's only water in there.

I lost my lid again this weekend. It was in regards to that teen I spoke of just a post or two ago. I do realize that his anxiety makes him less reasonable than most and that adding my screams atop his is definitely not the best solution.

But sometimes you just forget about the peanut butter.

We're both still alive so that's good.
And I bought a large jar of Jif this morning.

AL

Oh, and this poor guy sprained/bruised his foot at a basketball game this weekend. It's not broken, he just has to take it easy for a while.

 

Lastly, Lilah drew the picture above "because she was bored, not really sad."

See? We're fine. :)

More Cut Up T Shirts + Side Story

We officially moved from Jacksonville to Ormond Beach when Max was just a few days old. And in those few days the poor little guy did nothing but cry. Sleep sometimes, nurse a little, but mostly cry.

It was the first time I'd lived more than a few minutes away from my mom and dad and even though I had only Kirby and Max, I was feeling hopelessly outnumbered.
Jeremy was working very hard and with salesman hours, so it was just me, my boys, and the beach. We had a fairly strict schedule for meals and naps, our only outings were library and grocery store, and all this revolved around our daily walks.
I'd feed the boys early so that we'd have plenty of time to walk after dinner, when the sun wasn't so harsh and the day was winding down. We'd always walk towards the beach, even if we didn't go all the way, it simply seemed like the right direction to travel.

One evening as we headed towards the ocean, we passed a little boy about Kirby's age playing outside his house, barefoot and dirty, also happy and perfect, though I didn't know that then. Kirby dismounted his tricycle to say hello (never shy, remember) and so I followed, wearing Max in a sling. The boy's mom called for him and I noted that his name was unique. As she walked forward, loneliness overtook discretion, and I asked flat out if her son was named after a song? That Sublime song? She smiled. Said yes, he was. She'd thought when she named him that more people would ask that question but no one ever did. Except me. And then she peeked in to see Max. She had heard him of course, being only a few houses down, and wanted to put a tiny face to the tiny cries. Max usually enjoyed our walks, as long as he was carried, so he was quite charming at that moment.

And then Tanya and I were friends.
She had a sweet older daughter and a laid back parenting style that greatly softened my own. Watching her interact with her kids, both strict and silly, was exactly what I needed to see. I am continually grateful to her for that.

We continued to walk her way every night, and if her garage door was open, that meant she wanted to say hello. Kirby was always happy to say hello. We talked about our kids mostly - motherhood was so all consuming then - but we had other things in common too.
She moved away from that house near the beach shortly after we did. We've both been through lots of changes but we've kept in touch. She sews beautiful things when she can, mostly she works hard to support her family.
I decided that I'd make her something nice for her birthday this year.

So I sacrificed a few of my favorite old t shirts (they weren't getting much action these days anyway... maybe getting a touch too small, if I'm honest) and pieced them together haphazardly on a personalized pillow. She and I somehow managed to see a couple of shows together through the years, and I wanted those included. And, of course, my Sublime shirt.
We lamented early on that we couldn't listen to that type of music as mothers, incredibly inappropriate as it was, yet we still appreciated what it meant to our youth.

The pillow is definitely one of a kind, something that I know she'll appreciate. If I were to make another I'd construct a more traditional shape. A smaller square would look nice, I just got carried away with the great shirts.



I was kid-free as I drove her gift to the post office yesterday. And so I dug out an old Sublime CD and sang out loud, even all the bad words, in her honor.

AL

New Hats

xoxo,
AL

'Yikes!' Explained

It's rough being a big kid/young adult.
That transition is so messy and so public... there's so much to learn and no other way to do it than to Try. Fail (look ridiculous while doing so). Repeat.   I totally remember.

Kirby is almost there.
I know that his personality lends a spotlight to the negatives, and I know that he saves the worst of it for me and only me - because I'm his mom and that's how it works, how it should work.
But, man, I'm secretly stressed out for him.  And, man, is he a pain in the ass.
High school. Eck! It looks miserable from here.

Luckily, he's got a little bit of his dad in that thin frame, and that little bit is enough to cancel out any shyness he may have inherited from his mom. I think that helps.
Even more noteworthy is that, for the most part, he seems to know who he is.
Kirby is Kirby. And that's that.


All this to explain that when I added the parenthesized 'Yikes!' after each Kirby activity in my last post, what I really meant was 'Holy Hell, I'm not sure we'll survive this'.

And then perfectly on cue, we received a handwritten note in the mail from one of his teachers. She was writing for no other reason than to tell us how much Kirby makes her smile, how she appreciates his uniqueness, that he is "the class sunshine and sure to do great things".

She said we must be so proud. We are. We are surviving. And we are proud.


Add that note to the one below, from his sister, and it may be enough to get us (me) through high school.

AL
P.S. I just noticed that I cursed twice in this post.  Obvious side effects.

Week In Review

There was a break in temperature towards the end of last week so we grabbed a couple of six-year-olds who, like us, are too cool for Friday school, and we went to the zoo.

I have a plethora of photos of the three girls in varied poses on every. single. animal. sculpture. in the park but I will spare you.  We also stopped at every bench or picnic table for "one more snack".  We saw a brown bear's butt and a manatee, and that about covers it.

The weekend consisted of basketball for Max, robotics for Kirby, moving Daddy's office i.e. playing at Daddy's office, a fancy haircut for Kirby, dress clothes shopping for Kirby (yikes!), a mock trail scrimmage for Kirby (double yikes!!), a college basketball game, some maximal eating out and minimal sleeping in, and more basketball for Max.

Happily, the week itself was to the tune of a significantly lower key. Highlights included many, many paper hearts,

 gorgeous sunsets, 

 

and an eight-foot snowflake.

Wishing you a lovely weekend, 

AL

On the last day of 2012

(Yes I'm still playing catch up, bear with me)

The boys were a bit worried as we relaxed in t-shirts and sandals at my folks house during Christmas that we'd missed THE big snow of the season at home.
Lucky for us, there was plenty sticking around.
So after we returned from our stop in NC, after every last gift and every last Hershey kiss was unloaded from the van, we hit the "mountain".

This pretty snow has since melted but here's hoping that 2013 gives us a gorgeous snow day or two.

AL

Six-Word Memoirs

I've had this book for some time now and every time I pick it up I'm captivated all over again.
Not Quite What I Was Planning gives writers, comedians and regular people just six words to tell their story.  To describe themselves, their lives, or the thoughts in their head; whatever they'd like, but just six words.

Of course, this inspires one to immediately set to work on six words of his/her own.  And if you're reading this, then I expect you to do just that in the comment section.  ;)
I had absolutely no problem writing a mini-memoir for each of my family members, but I'm having a rather hard time nailing down one for myself.  I'm tempted to steal song lyrics...

Here are my completely unauthorized family suggestions:

 Lilah:   Everyone just do as I say.

 Max:  Soccer, my friends, and hair gel.

Kirby:  Clean things and a good book.

Jeremy:   I am who I am (awesome).


Al: Stuck in the middle with you.



Have a groovy Monday,
AL

Bad Holiday Photos

I'm almost ready to finish up Christmas 2012, I promise. I'll wrap it up in brown kraft paper and an extravagant bow but first I wanted to post a snippet of strange pics from my iPhone.

Let's begin with what I like to call 'Surprise! It's Christmas!':

Then there's 'DJ Giz':

This is 'Boys with Toys' (sad, I know):

'Is This Enough?':

'Popsy's Girls':

'Welcome to the Westside':

'Be scared, Spoons':

'Light Snack for the Road':

And finally 'Surprise!! Christmas is over!':

I don't know why he keeps doing that, AL

Holiday Homemade WrapUp

Although not terribly exciting, and only partially photographed, I thought I'd post my holiday crafts here so that at the very least I won't duplicate in the future.  By the way, I owe both Vince and Chris W apologies.  I believe them to be past victims of the same gift twice.  Apparently, when I find a book or photo I like, I stick with it.  ;)

 So, for Li's teacher, we put together a recycled magazine basket of goodies.  The bulk of it was classroom supplies (mostly glue and band-aids per request), we added a small Target gift card, and an ornament.

Li chose an original drawing, I transferred it to cloth using a sunny window and a disappearing ink pen, and then outlined with embroidery floss. 

It was very easy and turned out so cute that I  made one for myself:

Above is Ellie the Elf, which reminds me of a detailed post that I started before Christmas chronicling the nightly shenanigans of our Elf on the Shelf.

That post centers not on Buddy the Elf's mischievousness but rather our parental deceit. 

I do believe that we've taken this a bit too far.  It's going to be bad enough when Li uncovers the lies regarding Santa and the Tooth Fairy et al, but when she realizes that we purposely tricked her on a nightly basis with her good friend Budddy?! Well, it's going to be ugly for sure.  I'm a little scared.

That said, I did have fun with Buddy this year; and I didn't forget to move him even once - thanks to a timer I set on my iPhone. Every night at 10 pm it beeped instruction to Move the Elf!!.

Here's Buddy enjoying a Polly Pocket pool party:

Back to crafting:

Li and I also worked together on these Story Cubes. We have so much fun with our store bought set kept in the van, that we made our own for cousins and friends. We used some of the same pictures but several of our own design as well.

For the guys in our lives, we took the easy way out, and bought them tickets to the Jags/Pats game on 12/23. Reference photo below, all credit to Jer.

For those gentlemen that were not present or simply did not wish to attend the game, I used the baked-Sharpie-on-a-mug trick to personalize their morning coffee:

Grandparents received products stamped with the kids' artwork courtesy of a school fundraiser as well as a photo collage of central Ohio's cutest trombonist.

Little girls we love were given American Girl doll sleepover sets, including sleeping bag with pillow and matching case, bunny slippers or music CD and teeny tiny UNO cards.

 
And I had a good time making Tshirt scarves for the ladies, listed here.  Easy and cute, though very different from the the one I pieced together for Em W a few years ago.
Younger cousins of mine, and my cousins' kids(!), were given felt/scrap bracelets.  Possibly silly but I love these, and made several for myself.  Someone please let me know when I get too old to wear quirky accessories such as this.  Am I already there?  Maybe??  Oh well.

I also made some buckeye ornaments, felt pinecones, woodland gnomes, and peppermint popcorn.  And of course, I bought stuff here and there; especially for my own kids.  Lilah made a point to tell me before her birthday that she'd rather not have homemade, and my ego is still a bit bruised. 
Oh, I did thrift a large cloth US map panel that I backed with fabric to hang for Kirby.  He has already begun Lilah's geography training and I thought it'd be helpful as a teaching tool.  Good luck to them both.

And good luck to me as I vow, yet again, to begin crafting holiday gifts before November 2013.  May this year be evenly spread with work and play.  With a side of spontaneity.

AL