Cutest Towel

My neighbor, Patricia, dropped by today with the cutest darn towel for Caroline.  She made it.  She made one for Spencer too and I love it so much but I didn't want to ask for another one.  Luckily she must have read my mind--and this one is pink.  I'm trying to convince her she needs to sell them.

The Week in Photos

A visit to Farmer Rasmussen's pumpkin patch is an annual perk included in preschool tuition.  Who would have known.  Matthew wanted to know how long the pumpkin would last after we carved it.  I now have an answer.  One week. As it now looks as old as Farmer Rasmussen.

Not a huge fan of the guts.  It was his first time on guts.

And because no week is ever complete without going down the slide on a plastic 50 cent garage sale sled . . .

Or trying to break a limb on a surf glider.

While the real stunt man in the family looks on thinking. . .  "If I can only get a lucky break I'll leap off this table and over the railing at the speed of light.  It hasn't occured to me that I'll land head first in a hedge but I don't care.  I drive my mom nuts and I LOVE it."

"The plot thickens but I'm so darn cute they'll forgive me."

"Oh well.  If I'm busted at the railing, I'll just move on and scale the castle wall.  It's a good workout to rescue the Princess Caroline."

Who smiles happily ever after.

The End.

Fun Giveaways

I have some pet peeves. I have a lot of issues but we're not going to discuss them right now.

One of my more recent irritations has to do with using Facebook (or FB as the locals like to call it) as free advertising--it just kind of grates on me like nails on a chalkboard when my "friends" every post is about selling some porcupine-scented hair tonic or inviting me to become a distributor in their latest MLM dream. Tell me about it once in a while but golly--every post. I'd rather know what you ate for dinner every night or how many times you changed a poopey diaper that day--at least I can relate. Sometimes I don't want to be "friends" anymore but I don't know how to unfriend someone.  Do you know?

In general, I just don't work well that way. You'll get the mention from me every now and again but don't worry, I'm still years away from recruiting and you can stop reading whenever I become like nails on a chalkboard to you. Most of the time I mention what I'm up to just because right now quiet books and soft toys are in high season and it's pretty consuming--so hence, it may get a mention. Do me a favor though and let me know when you're pushing me over the friend cliff.

With that long-winded lengthy introduction safely behind us, the real reason for this post is to say that there are some fun giveaways taking place on the sites where we will be doing boutiques this year. Check out Oh Sweet Sadie, Tom and Lucy's Art Shoppe, and Charla and Lauri Present. 

No, rest assured that I am not getting .10 for every hit on the sites I plug or advanced rankings at shows. In fact, I'm not getting jack squat except for letting you know that there are some fun things being tossed around that I'm not even eligible to win.  If you like boutiquey types of things, and I'm not talking Tupperware type stuff, check out these sites every few days and register to win.

**I will insert a disclaimer in here now, lest I lose friends, stating that My Growing Season will be doing giveaways on these sites too but that's not why I'm sharing this dirty little secret with you. Pass it along to anyone else who like free stuff.  I learned how to use the email icon at the bottom and I'm feeling pretty proud.

But now I just can't resist--you can check us out at My Growing Season or My Growing Season Blog.

A Real Party

So what do you think my odds are of squeezing my tushy into a Thomas the Tank Engine costume?

It's sort of a one size fits all apron kind of deal. I've always had my doubts about the one size fits all racket. Once when I was pregnant with the News Anchor (Matthew's latest obsession--he does the nightly news with Spencer, his oblivious co-anchor, at his side and the NBC peacock taped to the wall with painters tape) I purchased a lovely polyester blend nightgown from Walmart. By the time I had the Little Lady the same gown barely fit, so no, I don't believe the one size fits all lie. Regardless, I'm up a creek without a paddle.

My fondest dream came true. I was actually invited to a social event that doesn't require me to bring a diaper bag, although who am I kidding, Little Lady will be coming with. One of our friends invited Corbin and I to a grown up Halloween party. I almost felt popular again. My party days have really wained since I left DC. I suppose that holds true for all of my fellow party goers as well since time and money were on our side back then. My party dishes cry from neglect most nights but I kiss them and tell them someday we'll be together again, this is just a temporary separation.

I was all excited until I read (yes, it actually was a bona fide invitation) the part about coming in costume. My heart sank. I must confess I'm not a lover of all things costume. In fact I could almost use the word "hate" but that's probably a tad strong. Would it be inappropriate to don my Walmart one size fits all lie and go as a pregnant lady? Well, I have to figure this out quickly and my creative juices are drunk right now. I don't have a clue what to show up in and it's an anxiety producing experience. And what in the world will Corbin wear? Do we go as a unit--like a Captain and Tenille type duo--or be our own person? What about buying a costume or digging something up that we don't wear anymore? Corbin just got rid of his Boy Scout shirt that stretched the buttons to ultracapacity upon dressing. I suppose I should have let him keep it like he wanted. I could go as an 80's chick because I probably still have the real life clothes. I still have my slippers from the 8th grade so I'm sure I have a pair of bright green preppy pants with a pink polo somewhere but those weren't one size fits all and I'm not that one size anymore.

I can tell this is going to take some doing.

Odds & Ends

No earth shattering info today just a few random going ons.

1. Spencer's cold is better but he gave the gift to Caroline. She slept in the swing last night so she could breath better. Poor little lady. Babies are amazingly content in hard plastic.

2. Our long indian summer is coming to a close I'm afraid. Rainy and chilly today but we sure did love the weekend weather.

3. Much to Matthew's dismay, his soccer team the mighty green Soccer Monsters did not score even one goal at the last soccer game of the year. His wounds were easily bound by the soccer ball trophy with bendable arms and legs. Come on, who wouldn't want one?

4. The formal dining room table is about to find love with a new family but we haven't told it yet. I've decided that in our stage of life a formal dining room is just a big ol waste of precious square footage. Do you know how many train tracks would fit in the same space? Well we're about to find out. Besides that, we've used it all of three times since we moved into the house. So know if you ever come to eat we'll just set you up in folding table style. You'll still get china if it's a holiday at least until I decide that there's no use for it and unload it on ebay. Actually I won't because I like the pattern and now I have a congested daughter to pass it along to.




5. We are about in full swing for quiet book season. I'm excited because I think we're booked at some good shows this year. We've tweaked things a bit and hopefully made some improvements here and there and I want to see how it all plays out. We're online now at http://www.createdbymom.com/

6. I somehow switched into Html mode on my blog which was driving me nuts and just figured out how to switch it back. I have not been blessed in the technical genius area.

7. Spence can now climb out of his crib. And the crowd boos. Luckily he's still small enough that he will only do it when he's mad and has enough adreneline pumping through his 10th percentile body to project himself over the edge and land with a thud.


8. For my treat to myself this week, the cleaning lady comes today. Bless her heart. I'm looking forward to a clean toilet.

And that's pretty much a wrap at Casa Sly.

Hooray for Love & Logic

Back in the spring Corbin and I attended a five week Love & Logic course at Matthew's preschool. We were determined to be the best darned parents ever bygolly cross our hearts and hope to die. Well, not really the last part so much. Despite that we have miles to go before we sleep, figuratively and literally, we are blazing forward and curbing some annoying childhood behaviors by applying the dandy techniques acquired in the course.

I've formed some opinions over the years on overscheduling but that was all before I actually had real life application. It was back when I was the perfect parent because I wasn't a parent--you know when I got sleep, bought clothes and ate out.

I want my kids to develop healthy social skills, excel in programs they enjoy and overall love being a kid but that leaves me with the "when is enough enough" question. I suppose that is the $64,000 question which will haunt me all of my parenting career and why I loved this week's Love & Logic tip from Dr. Charles Fay. As for me and my house, we will hold steady with current activities and add no more until there is a vacancy from the termination of another activity. It's what works for us. I love that Matthew is so creative and makes "shows" for me to watch that seem to go on for hours but I'm afraid all of that may come to a halt if I don't listen to Dr. Fay. So enjoy his words of wisdom which if you want my two cents don't only apply to kids.

Does Your Family Suffer from Over-Scheduling Disorder (OSD)? Dear Michele,

For many families, parenting has become an F-4 tornado, characterized by a frenzied whirlwind of activity.

This is not good for kids…or anybody else!

Much of this chaos has evolved out of the misguided belief that children must be entertained or "stimulated" each and every millisecond of each and every day. While pop psychologists may think this is wise, the rest of us ought to know better. Kids who never have an opportunity to rest, relax and get a bit bored, come to believe that life and relationships should always be exciting and fun. They also miss opportunities to develop creativity and problem-solving skills.

If you answer "yes" to any of the following statements, you and your kids probably suffer from OSD:

You're completely worn out from trying to help your kids participate in all of your activities

Your kids appear anxious, irritable, stressed, exhausted or hyperactive

Your kids don't have enough time to contribute to the family by doing their chores

Your kids complain about being bored any time they aren't being entertained
Although there's no medicinal cure for OSD, we can protect our families by giving ourselves permission to say "no" to too many activities. My personal advice as someone who's experienced this debilitating disorder is to trust your gut.

If you have any sense that your kids are overscheduled, trust your intuition.

Also be prepared to repeat, "I love you too much to argue" when your kids complain about being bored. In our book Love and Logic Magic: When Kids Leave You Speechless, we give specific tips for kids who are going through withdrawal from the drug of over-activity.

Thanks for reading!
Dr. Charles Fay

The Brothers aka Cheech & Chong

Caroline

The little lady was blessed at church on Sunday by her dad. She was absoultely striking in her white dress with pink smocked flowers. I could just eat her up.

It was enough to move me to tears--but not in a good kind of way

The kids annual photos were scheduled for Oct. 7. Six weeks plus on the calendar.

As you know, Spence is blessed to be a hair chick magnet and has quite a following. In fact, if his hair had a Twitter account, it would have hundreds, maybe thousands of followers. The curly-q's were in need of a little TLC so we thought it best that he go in for a TRIM before the photos. A family member volunteered to transport him to Cookie Cutters, where we pay the same amount as a year of college tuition. And that's when something went dreadfully wrong. I don't know if the stylist (if I can be so bold to call her such) was smoking low-grade crack that morning or what but when she concluded I could have knitted a scarf from the fruits of his yearly shearing. I knew there was an issue because I was on the phone with my mom when my dad (oops, my dad was the family member) brought Spencer back to their house and my mom's reaction was "his hair is so flat." Flat has never been his hair in a word. (Let's just clarify here that we do not hold Grandpa accountable since he wasn't actually holding the shears)

Upon return that evening, my little lamb was ushered in for me to see the work. I wanted to cry (as did the rest of the family after an official poll was taken). I was sick to my stomach. I'm not sure why I had such a violent reaction but I couldn't shake the hairdo. Perhaps I fear that the curls are forever gone and only time will reveal his fate. I decided to cancel his photos and just have Jane of www.cjaneshoot.com take Caroline. I stewed over it for the next day and then reversed my decision because I am a female and can do that if I choose. I figure I will use it as ammunition when he's older and starts firing off the "you don't love me" rounds and then I will say "of course I do. I let you in the family photos with that terrible haircut because I love you no matter what."

Jane arrived yesterday carrying her satchel of photo props and snapped away. I wonder if it's possible to Photo Shop hair on someone's head? Just a thought. His bright eyes and remaining hair will be darling in the photos, no doubt, but I've learned my lesson. No haircuts before photos.

p.s. I must confess that the reason I had the photos scheduled for six weeks out was because I was waiting for Matthew's hair to grow out from a horrible weed whacker cut administered by someone without a license. Someday he will forgive me. Caroline is counting her lucky stars that her's is too short to cut.

I can't concentrate so I might as well blog

Perhaps it's because I didn't sleep much (an even lesser quantity than my usual not much) last night but I can't concentrate worth a plug nickel. I feel really disconnected on days like this. Sort of useless here in my chair. Maybe/hopefully tonight will be better.

We still have sleeping issues over at Casa Sly. It's getting better but not good enough. I ushered Spencer back to bed several times and broke his little heart when I wouldn't lay with him. I did give him a bottle to keep him company in my absence.

Matthew was over once at the same time as Spence and the only thing that got them moving in the direction of the Choo choo bed was me loudly announcing in sheer desparation that I had had enough and EVERYONE back to your beds NOW!

And all the while I have Corbin's sleep apnea machine humming away beside me. When the nasal pillow gets misaligned it sounds like wind coming through the crack of a door. I usually nudge him in desparation and tell him to fix his thing.

And they wonder why I'm grouchy.

Then Caroline was up at 4:45 for a bottle and always goes back to sleep, except for this morning. Bright eyed and bushy tailed. She's still small enough that I can't get mad at her yet. So I did what any good mother would do--put her in the swing in the family room and closed the blinds in case any kidnappers were in the area and went upstairs to take a shower. She was content and still awake when I checked her an hour later.

In the meantime the boys were back in my bed with Spencer fussing a fussy song for me to lay with him again. Then it was time to go to work. And I still can't concentrate after being here 8 hours. Maybe I should go home and hope for a better night.

Tonight we are going to talk about good manners at Family Night. This should be good.

Unexpected.

Thump. Thump. Thump. One of my men was about to cross the threshold of my late night office santuary. I gambled that it was Matthew--and I was correct. He looked dazed, whimpered a little and climbed up on my lap at the computer. Within seconds he had returned to the Land of Nod nestled against my chest.

I struggled to hold on to the strapping young man who was once a petite 6 ouncer. As I perused the type before me, I held him close and that's when it hit me. A website that I was visiting was belting out some country western tune about how fast life goes and holding on to childhood and the moment. (That's what the songs are about when they're not lamenting the loss of a trailer or a lover) I held him tighter and started to cry but I didn't want to rouse him in the flood.

Moments like this are quite rare these days. Usually my two little babies are vying for my attention and Matthew has forfeited the former affection in which he liked to bask. I wanted to hold him forever. I wanted to stunt his growth. I wanted to let him know that he would always be my baby no matter how old he got and where he went or what he did.

Then with all the energy I had left at the end of a long day, I hoisted his limp body into my arms and headed up the stairs to return him to his nocturnal nest. I laid him in bed. Then I left with my legs aching and heart pounding like I had just finished an aerobics class. He's one solid mass but he's still my baby.