Monday, November 09, 2009
'Tis the Season
Tis the season to be creative and even I become infected with a mild case of creativity. Not Inffarantly Creative, or Hello My Name Is Heather creative. I can only dream about such skills. But I have to say that nothing says November like a good knit. The Spirit of Knitting has entered my soul with a resounding clickety clack, clickety clack, and I am whipping out little touques like nobody's business.
I say touque and I mean touque. Not knit hat, or stocking cap or beanie. It's a touque, as any respectable, born and bred Canadian will tell you. Pronounced with the 'oo' as in "Skip to my loo", and the 'ue' are silent. Touque.
I made the blue and pink one for baby G and the green one for a little friend. And then, of course, I get touque jealousy and decide I like the green one better. But it will fit the friend better than the other, and in the name of good Christian knitting I will give the cuter hat away. Besides, the Spirit of Knitting has found a place in my heart and should be here to stay until February. So, chances are I will just make Georgia Ann her own matching green one that she will constantly pull of her head and throw in the muck. But that's just what little ones do.
Every year I tell myself I am going to branch out and learn how to knit something else besides touques. Or at least learn a few more stitches, try a new pattern. This, of course, would require concentration and quiet. So we shall see.
'Tis also the seaon for bread, but sadly my trusted Kitchen Aid has hit some bumps in the road...bumps in the form of grinding sounds and non functioning dough hook spinner do da thingy. And if you think I will even attempt to make bread using the hand kneading method so loved by my Mother you've got another thing coming.
I hope my engineering-fix-it man can remedy this problem soon. We need more carbs around here, more chocolate chip cookies, whole wheat buns, and definitely more cinnamon rolls.
I say touque and I mean touque. Not knit hat, or stocking cap or beanie. It's a touque, as any respectable, born and bred Canadian will tell you. Pronounced with the 'oo' as in "Skip to my loo", and the 'ue' are silent. Touque.
I made the blue and pink one for baby G and the green one for a little friend. And then, of course, I get touque jealousy and decide I like the green one better. But it will fit the friend better than the other, and in the name of good Christian knitting I will give the cuter hat away. Besides, the Spirit of Knitting has found a place in my heart and should be here to stay until February. So, chances are I will just make Georgia Ann her own matching green one that she will constantly pull of her head and throw in the muck. But that's just what little ones do.
Every year I tell myself I am going to branch out and learn how to knit something else besides touques. Or at least learn a few more stitches, try a new pattern. This, of course, would require concentration and quiet. So we shall see.
'Tis also the seaon for bread, but sadly my trusted Kitchen Aid has hit some bumps in the road...bumps in the form of grinding sounds and non functioning dough hook spinner do da thingy. And if you think I will even attempt to make bread using the hand kneading method so loved by my Mother you've got another thing coming.
I hope my engineering-fix-it man can remedy this problem soon. We need more carbs around here, more chocolate chip cookies, whole wheat buns, and definitely more cinnamon rolls.
Thursday, November 05, 2009
Three Things Thursday
Three things that bug...
1. The Pioneer Woman. I am losing faith, a doubting follower, leaving the straight and narrow, a lost lamb of her flock. I just can't see how she can actually do ALL that BY HERSELF. Which isn't such a big deal, having help I mean, except for the fact that she never talks about the others out there that must be helping with the cook book and the web design, the decorating and the party hosting and the photos and the flicker group and the chopping of calf nuts and the butter. All the butter. I used to be able to say "I know Pioneer Woman is true".... but now I fear my testimony is wavering.
2. Ear infections. Currently 4 out of 12 ears in our household are infected. 50% of my children have otits media. Which, really, should give me a thrill because I get to say the words "otitis media" at the doctors office and feel like a SLP again (see previous post) but really, ear infections (and the fevers, sleepless nights and clingy children they produce) are not my favorite things.
3. Being told (with feverish baby strapped to self) that my baby is really not that sick at all, not as sick as all YOUR children have been and that my two year old is dressed like an orphan. Mostly because she was an orphan and now she is not an orphan and who says that all orphans wear bright yellow pants, cowgirl shirts and no socks on a November day anyway!
Three things that thrill...
1. Going to the doctor being 87.9% sure that I know what is wrong with my child and finding out that I was actually 100% right. Being right. Always a thrill.
2. Being told that there is no room for Oakley in Preschool today and then being called back because, VOILA! A magical spot has opened up and there will, in fact, be space for him today, space to play, run, create and run amock with other like minded boys. In the morning AND the afternoon. Which leads to the third things that thrills...
3. Naps! A nap. A glorious, peaceful one hour nap taken by yours truly while the sick babies were also sleeping. Then an entire shower, head to toe, all alone. And a spankin' hot batch of pumpkin chocolate chippers. I did not do it yesterday, but after that glorious nap I just knew today was the day. And (good job self) I had only a few.
1. The Pioneer Woman. I am losing faith, a doubting follower, leaving the straight and narrow, a lost lamb of her flock. I just can't see how she can actually do ALL that BY HERSELF. Which isn't such a big deal, having help I mean, except for the fact that she never talks about the others out there that must be helping with the cook book and the web design, the decorating and the party hosting and the photos and the flicker group and the chopping of calf nuts and the butter. All the butter. I used to be able to say "I know Pioneer Woman is true".... but now I fear my testimony is wavering.
2. Ear infections. Currently 4 out of 12 ears in our household are infected. 50% of my children have otits media. Which, really, should give me a thrill because I get to say the words "otitis media" at the doctors office and feel like a SLP again (see previous post) but really, ear infections (and the fevers, sleepless nights and clingy children they produce) are not my favorite things.
3. Being told (with feverish baby strapped to self) that my baby is really not that sick at all, not as sick as all YOUR children have been and that my two year old is dressed like an orphan. Mostly because she was an orphan and now she is not an orphan and who says that all orphans wear bright yellow pants, cowgirl shirts and no socks on a November day anyway!
Three things that thrill...
1. Going to the doctor being 87.9% sure that I know what is wrong with my child and finding out that I was actually 100% right. Being right. Always a thrill.
2. Being told that there is no room for Oakley in Preschool today and then being called back because, VOILA! A magical spot has opened up and there will, in fact, be space for him today, space to play, run, create and run amock with other like minded boys. In the morning AND the afternoon. Which leads to the third things that thrills...
3. Naps! A nap. A glorious, peaceful one hour nap taken by yours truly while the sick babies were also sleeping. Then an entire shower, head to toe, all alone. And a spankin' hot batch of pumpkin chocolate chippers. I did not do it yesterday, but after that glorious nap I just knew today was the day. And (good job self) I had only a few.
Wednesday, November 04, 2009
Wherein Far too Many Sentences Begin with "And"...
The bed is cold... so very cold. It forces one to bundle up, put on extra blankets, rub their hands vigorously and then, finally, to cuddle up to the estranged spouse on the other side in a desperate attempt to absorb warmth. Then one remembers that they rather like the estranged spouse and they wish the estrangement never happened. It is water under the bridge, thanks to the marriage saving coldness. Not so sure if this works with a King or not as they are rather large and one can forget that one even has a spouse when inhabiting a King (as per P-Cute). But I have no King, just a wondrously cold Queen.
Cold can be good.
So can rehab.
Rehab can be very good, not just for the participant, but the onlooker as well. For my friend's mother is in rehab as we speak. Not the rehab of meth addicts or alcoholics. Medical rehab, rehabilitating after serious injury or illness.
And the friend, while discussing this rehab for her mother, mentions things like Speech Therapy and Swallow Rehab and then the part of my brain buried in diapers and 3 1/2 dozen jars of apple sauce canned while sick children orbited my being... that part of the brain starts to wiggle and jiggle, it wakes up, does some Sun Salutations and Warrior Ones, maybe even jogs a mile or so, then infuses the rest of my laundry-littered brain with daydreams of Modified Barium Swallow studies, of viscous liquids, of Apshasia, Dysphagia, Apraxia and Fluency. My brain remembers that it knows something, that it has, in fact, BEEN TO SCHOOL.
And for a brief imaginary moment, my brain is the therapist at the Rehab center helping my friends' mother, and the mother gets better and goes home for Thanksgiving. And my brain gets a plump little check at the end of the month, and the check is stored in the the sock drawer to be saved up and spent on a destination vacation with the afore-mentioned-no-longer-estranged spouse.
I tell my brain: "There there, little brain. Be still. Soon, my brain, soon".
Actually, not very soon at all. But someday.
And I chase the boy around the house, take the two-two to the doctor and fill prescriptions for antibiotics. I stack blocks, play Uno, snuggle the crying, diffuse the fighting and enforce naps. And I seriously consider eating an entire batch of pumpkin chocolate chip cookies by myself.
And I still don't know what to make for dinner.
And so it is Wednesday.
Cold can be good.
So can rehab.
Rehab can be very good, not just for the participant, but the onlooker as well. For my friend's mother is in rehab as we speak. Not the rehab of meth addicts or alcoholics. Medical rehab, rehabilitating after serious injury or illness.
And the friend, while discussing this rehab for her mother, mentions things like Speech Therapy and Swallow Rehab and then the part of my brain buried in diapers and 3 1/2 dozen jars of apple sauce canned while sick children orbited my being... that part of the brain starts to wiggle and jiggle, it wakes up, does some Sun Salutations and Warrior Ones, maybe even jogs a mile or so, then infuses the rest of my laundry-littered brain with daydreams of Modified Barium Swallow studies, of viscous liquids, of Apshasia, Dysphagia, Apraxia and Fluency. My brain remembers that it knows something, that it has, in fact, BEEN TO SCHOOL.
And for a brief imaginary moment, my brain is the therapist at the Rehab center helping my friends' mother, and the mother gets better and goes home for Thanksgiving. And my brain gets a plump little check at the end of the month, and the check is stored in the the sock drawer to be saved up and spent on a destination vacation with the afore-mentioned-no-longer-estranged spouse.
I tell my brain: "There there, little brain. Be still. Soon, my brain, soon".
Actually, not very soon at all. But someday.
And I chase the boy around the house, take the two-two to the doctor and fill prescriptions for antibiotics. I stack blocks, play Uno, snuggle the crying, diffuse the fighting and enforce naps. And I seriously consider eating an entire batch of pumpkin chocolate chip cookies by myself.
And I still don't know what to make for dinner.
And so it is Wednesday.
Monday, November 02, 2009
Halloween ... Check (part 3three)
Treats... check!
Having friends and family over for our Halloween 'party' is always the best treat for us. (I use the term 'party' loosely. Simple dinner, a game or two, then off to beg dessert from the neighbors). We had a nice showing this year with the addition of Kenneth's parents and one of his sisters (Grandma and cousin Ashleigh are on the top left).
I hope everyone in blogville had a nice Halloween. I am now drowning myself in Milky Ways and leftover salsa, so I consider the whole experience a slammin' success.
Having friends and family over for our Halloween 'party' is always the best treat for us. (I use the term 'party' loosely. Simple dinner, a game or two, then off to beg dessert from the neighbors). We had a nice showing this year with the addition of Kenneth's parents and one of his sisters (Grandma and cousin Ashleigh are on the top left).
I hope everyone in blogville had a nice Halloween. I am now drowning myself in Milky Ways and leftover salsa, so I consider the whole experience a slammin' success.
Halloween ... Check (part 2two)
Trick... Check.
Ahh yes. The traditional Halloween breakfast, Monster Pancakes (if I were a good blogger I'd put a link to a recipe here. I am sure Pioneer Woman has one on her recipe site. She has everything). The children love to gather in front of the oven, waiting for the big pancake to distort and puff into a monstrously delicious, syrup smothered, sticky mess.
Please note, however, that failure to add milk to the recipe equals one flat, buttery, cardboard-esque pancake dumped in the trash.
I can't decide if I'm a good Mom because I made them a new one or a wasteful, entitled North American who can blatantly throw away enough food to feed an entire starving family for three days.
Really, the trick's on me because the I did a 1 1/2 recipe for the second batch since we were all starving. And guess what? It doesn't puff if you put more in.
Ha.
Well... we ate the second one regardless. Better luck next year, eh.
Sunday, November 01, 2009
Halloween ... Check (part 1one)
Costumes... Check.
Where? Where? Where? You ask was I this past week? Why could I only supply my faithful 7 with an off color joke and some floor sweepings?
Well, I am here to justify my absence.
You see... the Fairy Princess brigade threw up all over my kitchen table.
Below is concrete evidence supporting the theory that I like Ivy the best of all my children...
Being that I have never put this much effort into a Halloween costume before and that I would rather clean up after Thanksgiving dinner all by myself if it meant I could avoid using my sewing machine ... I would say that the theory is true. I like my little fairy the best.
Of course there were other costumes...
A rather reluctant flower,
(This little flower number caused a certain red head great grief, she spent most of the time pulling at it and complaining so she went without for the bulk of the Halloween festivities.)
A skinny Superman and a Pink Witch.
Or was that a Veterinarian?
Well, good thing I have a decently stocked dress-up box. Veterinarian, Witch.... whatever floats your boat! Even Kenneth threw together a costume from the dress-up box.
As for me... well... I put on some earrings and mascara. Very rare.
Where? Where? Where? You ask was I this past week? Why could I only supply my faithful 7 with an off color joke and some floor sweepings?
Well, I am here to justify my absence.
You see... the Fairy Princess brigade threw up all over my kitchen table.
Below is concrete evidence supporting the theory that I like Ivy the best of all my children...
Being that I have never put this much effort into a Halloween costume before and that I would rather clean up after Thanksgiving dinner all by myself if it meant I could avoid using my sewing machine ... I would say that the theory is true. I like my little fairy the best.
Of course there were other costumes...
A rather reluctant flower,
(This little flower number caused a certain red head great grief, she spent most of the time pulling at it and complaining so she went without for the bulk of the Halloween festivities.)
A skinny Superman and a Pink Witch.
Or was that a Veterinarian?
Well, good thing I have a decently stocked dress-up box. Veterinarian, Witch.... whatever floats your boat! Even Kenneth threw together a costume from the dress-up box.
As for me... well... I put on some earrings and mascara. Very rare.
Friday, October 30, 2009
Tuesday, October 27, 2009
At 1:26 pm...
...the following things are on my counter top...
A pile of randoms from my pocket. Each of these items was extracted from the mouth of a child from between the hours of 8am and 1:15pm. (Surprisingly only two of the items were from Georgia's mouth)
A pile of apples being chopped by my boy. The same boy from whose mouth I extracted the rest of the above listed items. The same boy who was bouncing off the walls and needed something to do that did not involve a TV or computer screen. Now I suppose we will have apple crisp for dessert.
A pile of reading homework for Eden. If it's not where I can see it, it's not going to get done, and then my kid will be the one without the reading prize at the end of the week and hers will be the folder with a big red flag on it come parent/teacher conferences. So best get that reading homework done.
A crock pot full of taco soup. Easiest meal on the planet and beloved by all. Extra cheese please.
So. Yes. I am home from the hiatus. Life just keeps tick-tocking along, piles and apples and homework and dinner to be served. Dishes to be done, children to save from choking. Diapers to change, little bums to pinch, cheeks to kiss, floors to wash, children to tickle and naps to be taken (sadly not by me).
Life is good (and would be even better with a nap).
A pile of randoms from my pocket. Each of these items was extracted from the mouth of a child from between the hours of 8am and 1:15pm. (Surprisingly only two of the items were from Georgia's mouth)
A pile of apples being chopped by my boy. The same boy from whose mouth I extracted the rest of the above listed items. The same boy who was bouncing off the walls and needed something to do that did not involve a TV or computer screen. Now I suppose we will have apple crisp for dessert.
A pile of reading homework for Eden. If it's not where I can see it, it's not going to get done, and then my kid will be the one without the reading prize at the end of the week and hers will be the folder with a big red flag on it come parent/teacher conferences. So best get that reading homework done.
A crock pot full of taco soup. Easiest meal on the planet and beloved by all. Extra cheese please.
So. Yes. I am home from the hiatus. Life just keeps tick-tocking along, piles and apples and homework and dinner to be served. Dishes to be done, children to save from choking. Diapers to change, little bums to pinch, cheeks to kiss, floors to wash, children to tickle and naps to be taken (sadly not by me).
Life is good (and would be even better with a nap).
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