Yellow is the New Orange

Last Thursday night, my Sensei told me she wanted to test me for my next belt.  This was after the class had gone through every Kata they knew.  Talk about an exhaustive 45 minutes, and I only did the first four kata, then watched/practiced my four for the rest of the time.  I knew she had my number as I could see her out of the corner of my eye when performing.  Once she even nodded her head as if to say "Yes!  You got it!"  I think I actually started twitching that instant in fear, and she saw it and she giggled.  "Are you sure you are ready?"  Absolutely Sensei, I think I managed to say, because in my eyes she is in charge.  If she thinks I am ready, then I am ready.  My own brain can catch up later.

[DadOfAllTrades chided me for not focusing on the Kata, but Sensei has this long black hair and one can tell when she is looking at you because either one sees light or dark.  I saw only light every time the twists and turns of the Kata had me facing in her general direction.]

So it is now Sunday (well not really, but I am just setting the mood here) and I have had two nights of dreams about my Kata.  Two kinda restless nights.  As I am getting ready for class I even throw on some eye makeup.  Damn, I am vain, I think;  but I don't really care.  One must look good when they are humiliating themselves.  This is not to say that I didn't know what to do or expect.  I just know that I get really nervous when put on the spot and my brain stops functioning.  Seriously. I have been known to stumble on my own name when under pressure.

I am sitting in the line up of those who are testing and am watching the youngin's ahead of me (Sunday is open mat-any age, any belt)  Some knock it out of the park, some falter and then get it.  As the testing gets closer to me, I start to hear my heart beat.  Real quiet at first, then by the time I am called, it is like thunder.  Seriously, I can barely hear her tell me what to next.

After a pause or two it is over.  Even though it seemed like it took roughly the time it took to birth my first, then the next thing I remember is my little one coming up to me and congratulating me for getting my yellow belt.  Then Sensei tying it around me waist and muttering under her breath "Were you nervous?  'Cuz I have seen you do those Kata better that that."

But I am now a yellow belt.  That is the third of numerous belts and I have many to go.  But I did it!!!  I am getting officially dangerous, as DadOfAllTrades pointed out to me.

40 Bags Update

I wanted to put a photo here each week of my effort in the 40 bag challenge.  But I turned out to be lazier in the publish photo department than I thought I would be.  However, I have gotten down to business as far as filling bags goes and have gotten these things put to the side to sell and discard.

Week one (that is one week after Ash Wednesday):

Not bad for seven days of work.  I do remember that one day was an actual bag full of trash, so there you go.  I am not selling he dining room set as of yet.  The idea has crossed my mind though.

On to week two.  I did miss the day the dog died. I had a family to take care of (and I did pray for forgiveness for not fulfilling my promise.  Amen.)  Just look at this:

And quite honestly, I have 5 or so boxes in the basement that I am going to leave there until the day of the garage sale because they are not getting in the way.  At least not yet.

Whew, I am tired.  In a good way, though.

This Parenting Thing #4: Talk of Death

Sorry about the morbid title.  Since we have just experienced one here, it seems foremost on our minds.

Even before the dog fell, Buzz had been asking haphazardly if the dog was sad that he was going to die.  Since I am not a person who dwells on strong feelings, this was something I wanted to avoid talking about with him.  Not because I felt he couldn’t handle talk of death.  But because of me.

In my 40+ years I have rarely forced myself to deal with life’s strong issues.  I have had to put a pet down before.  But being me, I avoided it.  That is, I wasn’t there.  My horse colicked and in the wee hours of the night I decided that his 23 years were enough and I was not going to spend over $2,000 for him to have emergency surgery.  Then I left the barn.  I don’t think I could have watched him drop after receiving the injection.  Part of my brain knew it was right, the other part wanted to deny letting it happen.  So I retreated into myself and pretended I was OK.  Avoid. 

My cat had a huge tumor in his stomach/intestines and had dropped a huge amount of weight.  I opted for exploratory surgery this time, but had just moved homes with two children under two.  I got to say goodbye to him the night before, but not right before he was put down.  The busyness of my young-kid-mom life let me not think of it.  I felt guilty, oh yes, but it was easy to put it aside because I had mouths to feed, bottoms to wipe, and a house to unpack.  Sometimes he still walks through my dreams, but less and less anymore.  That makes me even sadder. Avoid.

I had trouble with the dog’s death because I knew there was going to be more to it this time.  

The dog is DadOfAllTrades’ first born.  He is and will always be very attached to that animal, and rightly so.  The unconditional love of a dog is nothing to shake a stick at.  I know the dog was a constant when other things in his life were in turmoil.  There is some sweet satisfaction of coming home to an animal that is just so excited for you to be home, no matter how dirty or tired you are from the day’s work.  No judgment, just a “great to see you, dad!  Let’s go out!”  I knew that I was going to have to play the support role, something I unusually shy away from because I feel like I can never say the right thing.  But I had no choice, DadOfAllTrades needed me and I needed to deliver. 

I also had to learn how to explain death and funerals and cremation.  I never had to do that before.  Not that I didn’t know what they were, or could not explain them.  I had been around folks who know what they are.  Now I have two little ones who have not had the experience of knowing, so I must make them aware.  I could not anticipate questions, but had to handle them straight on when they came. 

“Where so we go when we die?” Easy one-Our body stays here on earth because we don’t need it anymore.  Our spirit, or soul, our stuff that makes us who we are, goes to play with God and Jesus.

“Why don’t we need our body anymore?  Will the dog need his body?” Um-because in heaven there is no pain.  If our body was sick, then we had pain and God loves us too much for that.  He wants us to have a heavenly body.

 “Are our heavenly bodies lighter?  ‘Cuz the one I have would fall through the clouds.”  Giggle-Yes, our heavenly bodies are lighter.

“What happens to a real dead body?”  Yucky one-One could be embalmed and buried or entombed.  Or one could be cremated and the ashes kept in an urn.

“Are we going to use the wood burner to burn the dog?”  Hard one-No, honey.  One needs a stove that can get much hotter than ours.  And besides, how would we separate the ashes of the dog from the ashes of the wood?  Their stove keeps those things separate.

“Is the dog sad that he is going to die?”

Back to the beginning again.  And then around the circle of questions again.  I realize that each time they ask, they may understand just a little more and I am glad to be the one that can do this for them, no matter how hard it is for me to force myself through it.

Because I tend to avoid, I have never worked this out in my own head.  I have found myself thanking God recently for giving me my two boys so that I could become more.  Not 1+1=2 more, but more me.  My thoughts are more.  My feelings are more.  My body is more (but that can be fixed<wink>) in a sense that I am amazed at the life it can create without needing directions.  The fact that I must explain the process to them has allowed me to finally come to peace with death.  I no longer have the option of avoidance.  And I thank God for that.

My relationship with God is more, too. 

How does one teach a child that the hard times are when you get closer to your God?  It is so easy to walk away from Him when a tragedy happens- even the death of a dog that one saw coming- and be mad at Him for letting it happen.  But this time it has been different for me.  I have noticed that my prayers for strength to support DadOfAllTrades pain have been answered.  He has allowed me the right words when it is time and has shown me when to keep my mouth shut.  God has answered my prayers for “the right words” to help my boys through this and my prayers of “help me recognize when they are struggling”.  He has held my hand through these last weeks by having us grow closer before the death.

All this talk of death has made me grow stronger, made me more.  Thank God for that.

Sad News

Ok, so I have to admit that I am pretty sad right now. 

Just after my last post, the dog fell down the stairs and I found him at 4am whimpering and lying in a pool of his own urine.  I knew at that moment he was not going to be around much longer.  He is old and does not get around very well anyway, let alone after a scary fall.  He was stumbling around and not using his hind legs very well once I got him upright.  Turns out he probably had some degenerative nerve problem in that his brain knew what it wanted his rear end to do, but it could not tell it what it wanted.

After a day of my heart being pulled out of my body watching him try to walk, DadOfAllTrades also knew that this was it.  We had to euthanize him to end his suffering.  That is the worst, worst, worst thing I have ever had to decide in my life so far.  My horse and my cat, who I had to do the same thing to, were not so hard to take.  They were both really sick, loosing lots of weight and in pain. 

The dog still wanted to play.  Ugh.

I really am writing to tell of some things that have made this whole process easier to take.

I had to tell the boys right before they went to bed the night before.  LegoMaster, in the past, appeared that he could take or leave having a dog.  He did look like he had been punched in the gut once he knew, but he didn’t ask a lot of questions.  Typical of his stoic self.  Once I got into his room after he had gotten himself into bed I noticed he was staring at the ceiling.  I asked “What are you thinking?”  What I wanted to do was let him express his sorrow or anger or whatever it is that little boys think when they hear their dog is about to die.  What he said was “I am thinking that I have to do some subtraction.” 

It took every ounce of my being not to laugh out loud, to help him gather the materials he needed to “do subtraction”.

Second, Buzz has made this time livable by giving hugs and saying that he knows we are sad.  DadOfAllTrades had to put a stop to it, however, when Buzz started saying it every five minutes.  The boys spent the afternoon playing outside.  They shot marshmallows (If you have not done this before, it is totally worth it.  One does not shoot a marshmallow with a gun.  One uses their own air to launch a mini marshmallow out of a pvc fashioned launcher.)  They got out the basketball hoop and re-filled the bottom so they could shoot baskets.  They got out their bikes and zoomed around.  Here is when Buzz had a problem.

Buzz misjudged how long it would take to stop the bike and he ran into the garage, but not at full speed.  He shot forward and hit his ‘junk’ on the bar.  It was not an injurious hit, but enough to make him wince and run inside for his cup and athletic supporter.  Buzz has not been unprotected ever since.  Really, he has been wearing the thing 24/7.  Even when he sleeps.  I would imagine this is not that comfortable, but when one wants to protect…

This has made me focus on what is right in front of me rather than where my mind might wander.  Under these circumstances in the past, I have laid down in bed and stayed there away from phones, others, distractions, until I feel ready to face the world without tears.   I don't have that luxury this time as I have two little boys who are watching.  I must 'put on my big girl pants' as a friend of my says, and act like an adult.  Sometimes being the adult sucks, though.

Now, if you will excuse me,  DadOfAllTrades has brought me a stack of photos of the dog that he wants in a scrapbook and I must go cry.

Let's Hear it for the Boys

Since I have yet to tell you about my boys, all of them, I decided it was time.  You may feel you know them already from what has been written, but read on.  You may learn more. And if you don't, oh well.  I got some words out of my head that have been floating around for a while.

DadOfAllTrades
I met My Love in August of 1999, the 1st to be exact.  We were set up by his sister and my friend.  Our first date was on a Sunday afternoon to a Red Lobster.  We talked and ate for about 2 hours.  Then, when we got back in the car, he asked what to do next.  I said take me home, I need to do laundry.  And the truth is, I really did.  You see, someone wise once told me that you need to have an "out" on the initial dates.  Like, I need to meet my grandma for our once a week visit or I need to go help the orphans.  But since I am me, the only thing I could come up with is that I had to do laundry.  DadOfAllTrades called his sister after the date and said he was not sure how the date went because I made him take me home so I could do laundry.  Believe me when I tell you that the subject of laundry causes much laughter on his side of the family to this day.

I call him DadOfAllTrades  because he just knows how to do stuff, not because he has had numerous professions.  Ask about installing a dishwasher and he will give you the minutest details of the job.  He knows how to put a huge wrinkled gasket in a '76 Trans Am engine.  He knows when to weed/feed the grass as if he has a twitter account with Mother Nature.  He knows how to build a mammoth, hurricane proof tree house without plans.  He knows about hot water heaters, sump pumps, snowblowers, hedge clippers and wood drills.  He can make a wooden race car after looking at a picture of one for about 20 seconds.  His sisters (of which there are four) call him for help in their houses.  I usually giggle at this because as they are trying to describe the problem, he gets frustrated and asks them to "hold the phone up to it" as if he could see through the phone like Superman.  He is the guy you call.



LegoMaster
My seven year old started his life in a slow way.  He did not want to leave the warmth of momma, so he got stuck.  He is a quiet, thoughtful, stoic young man.  I remember him sitting up on a blanket with toys scattered around him, just waiting for me to hold something up with witch to play.  He is the type of kid who watches the 'goings on' before he commits to play.  He is my kid to help out because he wants to.   He has a new fascination with painting and I have roughly 10 canvases with buses on them, one of witch I received wet at 6:15am.  He makes me smile!

This kid is a great builder.  He received his first Lego set on the Christmas right before his sixth birthday and fell deeply in love.  He very much enjoys spending a day (really, an entire day) sitting on the floor with one of his bigger builds just taking it apart and putting it back together again.  I am astounded at his math skills and have high hopes for his future in engineering.  I am just making that up, but seriously, the kid has such an analytical, logical, left-brained mind that it would totally not surprise me if he becomes an architectural engineer.  He loves his daddy and will jump up and down when DadOfAllTrades gets home from work.  Really he does even though he is seven.

Buzz
My kindergarener is a goofy kid, not in a bad way.  He just makes us laugh with his over-the-top gestures and animated facial expressions.  He entered the world so fast the doctor had to throw the bottom part of the bed across the room so that he could catch Buzz.  He is whip-smart, and needs help organizing his thoughts. Have you ever seen the cartoons where the dog is sniffing a trail and thinking "rabbit...rabbit..gotta find the rabbit..ooh, a deer...deer...deer..gotta find a.."  That is my Buzz.  He wants to get something done, but gets distracted on the way because something else catches his attention.

He is usually in a costume of some sort.  This is how he got his name.  One summer he wanted to wear his Buzz Lightyear costume every stinking day.  Now, this costume is a white vinyl material and does not breathe.  You can just imagine how red-faced and sweaty this young man was for about two months.  Currently, he is Anakin Skywalker but I have not changed his name because the good-hearted, willing and kind Buzz Lightyear is more like my son then the brooding and angry Anakin.  Oh, I almost forgot about the chaps, boots and cowboy hat of this past week; another memory making costume.

The Dog
The dog came with DadOfAllTrades.  Even though the dog hovers around me near feeding time, he does really know who his master is.  He is a curmudgeon.  Look it up if you don't know what that means, because the definition fits him to a 'T'.  He is getting old and can't hear worth a darn, but he still has some fiestyness left in him.  Oh, and if he is sleeping you must stomp on the floor as you pass him because he does not act kindly when you surprise him awake.

Project Cre8ing-Crazy Weed Costume

Recently, LegoMaster brought home a letter from the music teacher.  It described how one needs to make a “costume” for their first grader for the upcoming choral concert.  The theme is Garden Party.   If I remember correctly, she said something like “a hat with leaves or a headband is OK.”  While making a costume is truly my idea of fun, the next sentence made my heart skip a beat.  Each class was assigned a category in which to dress.  

Categories included flowers, vegetables, rabbits.  Easy stuff.  Matter of fact, I currently have corn and tomato costumes in the closet. 

This won’t be that difficult, I think.  And then I continue reading.

{I am starting to learn that the thought of “not difficult”, in and of itself, is a warning of something bigger heading my way.  It has taken me 40-something years to learn this, but finally it has sunk in.}

LegoMaster’s class assignments were as follows: girls are flowers and boys are weeds.  WEEDS?  My first reaction  is why the boys are assigned something that has a unspoken meaning of bad, but I don’t want to be “that mother” so I hesitated in calling the school immediately.  I went to my handy-dandy computer to Google weed costumes.  Go ahead-do it yourself.  I’ll wait.

Not what you thought, huh?  Me neither.  Thankfully I had not yet called LegoMaster over to the computer for a brainstorming session so he did not see the images of Maryjane that showed up.  I quickly closed the window and casually asked LegoMaster what he thought a weed was. 

“Like a dandelion” he says “the fluffy white kind.”

OHHH.  Well that I can do. 

I searched the stash and found some white polar fleece and some green felt.  I zipped up a quick white hat.  Actually it wasn’t that quick because I grossly underestimated the size of my boy’s head.  The first edition barely fit on his head.  “Mom, that is a little tight.”  King of understatements, he is.  So I had to put a gusset in it. If you see too many seams, that is why.

I freehanded some big green petals or leaves.  They are to represent the covering of the seed pod that peels away once the white fuzz is ready to go.  I made the front pieces shorter so he could see the music teacher’s direction.  I’m thoughtful that way.

I didn’t sew a complete round with the leaves as the hat will need some give for getting on and off.

As an aside-my machine does this to almost every thread I have tried and almost every tension setting I have.  Anyone know how to fix this problem?

Now we have a hat with leaves.

At this point I must go to the local craft store as I do not have anything white and fuzzy, like feathers.  I cannot use feathers, mind you, because LegoMaster is allergic and would have red itchy eyes almost immediately if I put a feather hat on his head.  So I must wander the aisles in search of something white and fuzzy that may or may not look like a dandelion fluff.  Not really torture as I could spend hours in a craft store examining the possibilities.  I come up with some really great ideas for the front room we have just redone…….oh, I must get back on track.  Why was I here?  …………….Yep, here it is.  I am supposed to be looking for white and fuzz.  I find some really cool extra fuzzy pom-pom balls and some white floral wire and I head for home.

LegoMaster wants the fuzz to stick up.  That really is the only request other than “Remember how I am allergic to feathers?  Don’t get those.”  Ok, got it.  So I think these white floral wires will help me in the stick up category. 

I figured I needed to glue or sew the inside somehow so I wrapped a loop around my finger …

and stuck the pointy end through the hat.

Then I used hot glue to hold it in place.  I am of the opinion that hot glue is to crafting what Jesus is to the world.  Please take no offence.  If it weren’t for hot glue all crafters would be struggling, just like we all would be struggling without Jesus.  It, and He, definitely makes us complete.  Amen.

Here is the finished product.  Modeled by Honey Bear as LegoMaster got mad at me for constantly putting it on his head today.

Now, here is the kicker.  After I had made this crazy beauty, LegoMaster brings home a note saying the choral concert is put on hold until further notice because the Gym is flooding and they are unsure when it will be back to working order.  Sigh.  At least my job is done for when the concert does happen!  

Seven Quick Takes Number 6

1. Buzz has earned his chaps this week.  He saw these black suede kids size chaps when DadOfAllTrades purchased his for the Valentines Day Costume Party.  He wanted them B-A-D, but we saw no reason for him to have them asap.  So DadOfAllTrades and I devised a plan.  Buzz had to work for them.  He had to do extra chores until his check list was full, then we could go to get them.  We honestly thought he would loose interest in them and there would be no little boy chaps in our home.  However, he did truly want them and worked hard to get his check marks.  He walked into the store and said he "earned them and he wanted them".  Cutie!

2. Buzz wore his chaps to school.  I walked him in to make sure the teacher thought this was OK and wouldn't disrupt the class.  She told him they were "Great!"  and grabbed my arm to take me into the hall- where she burst out laughing.   Thank goodness she can appreciate Buzz the way that I do!

3. Snow has once again hit our neck of the woods.  Hooray.

4. I am on day 3 of the sugar fast.  Not really much of an issue yet.  But coffee isn't as much fun when it isn't all sweetened up by sugar and flavored creamer.  And one cannot even order fast food without a sugary drink.  I ordered bottled water and had to pay more.  Sheesh-no wonder why folks don't make an attempt to eat healthily.  It costs too much.

5. We are going full steam on our Lent/Easter study.  The boys are taking to it well and seems to settle into their chairs at breakfast when I read from the Word.  I am loving the big blue eyes of LegoMaster when he asks questions. Buzz wants to hear how Jesus was "kilt", but I told him that cliffhanger was for a later date.  He sighed.

6. The planning for the end of the school year has already hit.  I attended a Carnival planning session today.  My baby is NOT going to be a first grader next year.  He is way too young.  What’s that you say?  He is the right age?  I guess that makes me how old?  AHHHHHHH…

7. I have been trying to do a “Ten Best” list of lists for myself, maybe for posting at a later time.  However, I can only come up with five or six for some of my categories.  Either I am way picky-er than I thought or I don’t get out enough.

This Parenting Thing #3-Letting the Inevitable Happen

LegoMaster and Buzz are not in the habit of putting things away.  

Not for my lack of trying. 

I have attempted to organize their lives:  They have see-through bins for toys, some even labeled with not only words, but pictures.  Said bins rest comfortably on shelves that came with the house (and will probably be the last thing standing after the Apocalypse they are so strong).  The bins match and stack, just like I like them. 

There are large enough compartments for the board games.  I have even come up with using underbed-storage boxes for the mountains of Legos, probably not my own idea but it works for me.  The bottom of the box is large and one can push around the miniscule pieces of plastic to search for just the right piece without having to dump the entire bucket.  My eyes light on fire when I see the waterfall of pieces when one of my boys dumps the entire bucket.  It makes me instantly a crazy mom because I know that I will be the one helping to pick them up, or vacuuming them up, whichever comes first.

I have weeded out the toys they no longer use.  Less to organize and pick up.

We have designated clean up times.  They are usually at the end of the day and, now that I think about it, are sheer torture because we are all tired.
 

But the toys always end up in a big pile in front of the fireplace on the hearth.  We don’t use the fireplace with a chimney in this house because it is fueled by gas.  Kinda like throwing money up the flue. 

But I degress..

The fact that things do not get put away has not yet begun to affect my boys.  They will whine and complain for roughly 20 seconds while rifling through the stack of junk toys, then get distracted by another toy they have just unearthed in their search.   Myself, and DadOfAllTrades, have tried to use words to teach them that if they put things back where they belong, they are easier to find at a later date.

And I usually do some kind of search once they go to bed then put the ‘lost’ toy in a strategic place so they feel that they have found it.  I’m a sucker for my kids.

So, today I have asked LegoMaster to get his new mouthpiece.  You see, he had to purchase a new one from Sensei because he lost his first one.  Apparently, he just let it fall to the floor (or should I say, was distracted enough to not realize it had fallen to the floor) and it was thrown away.  To tell the truth, I was quite happy with Sensei for doing that because I have had to send him back in the dojo many-a-time to grab it from the floor.  I wanted to say “See-I told you so!”  but I didn’t because I am an adult and I know that that would have been mean.  So I gave him a hug and reminded him that he needed to use his own money to purchase the new one.  He did that on Sunday, four days ago.  He used that mouthpiece exactly once before today.

We were going to form it this morning (I know, one should form a mouthpiece before using it.  But I am lazy and I did not do it Sunday night.)  I put the water on to boil and asked my dear, sweet boy to get his mouthpiece.  He brought me the case and stood back.  We opened it and…………….it was empty.  LegoMaster looked as though he had been punched in the stomach.  His stare of disbelief was priceless, in a bad way though.  I wanted to grab him up and tell him it would be ok.  But I couldn’t as I was reeling myself.

How in the world could it be gone already?  He JUST got it.

He just went dejectedly to search his bag and clothes from yesterday in the hamper.  No luck.  I told him that he had to once again use his own money to buy another one.  He was bummed.  He was broken.  He was practically crying.  “I am using up way too much of my own money!!”  He wailed.  All I could do was hug him and say that I was sorry this happened to him.

Here is a time when I wanted to shout “I told you that things should be put away as soon as you are finished with them and then you will be able to find them when you want them.”  Or I could have gone off on the fact that this sorrow was brought upon himself by his lack of focus.

But, as a mom, I realized that those spoken words would not have been helpful.  They would have been hurtful.  Motherhood has done a good job at teaching me how to shut my mouth.  In the days of old, I would have spouted off.  Now I have learned that there are some situations in which the mouth must stay shut.  This has taken me a long time to learn. 

There is this huge part of me that wants to be the fix-it-up mom.  If I see my boys hurting, I want to remove the hurt.  I once confronted another child on the playground who was being mean to others, including my kid.  The mom was none to happy about it, but geez, the mama lion in me kicked in and I had to fix-it.  There is a fine line between helping your children with their hurts and doing it for them.  I am afraid all the times I got in the middle of a dispute have not helped my boy learn how to take care of his seven year old self.

This is where I need the help.  When do I stop and let the inevitable happen?  When do I just sit back and watch my son get chastised as school because he still sucks his thumb? (And please don’t go there yet.  I will write about that situation at a later date and you can get on my case about thumb-sucking all you want to then.) When do I let the mouthpiece lay on the floor and walk out the door of the dojo rather than remind him to check for it before we leave?  And will I have the guts to know that he will be devastated again if I ‘do nothing’ by letting him forget?

There is a wise woman in my Bible study who told of watching her son date an objectionable woman for four years and how she saw the spirit in him crumble.  FOUR YEARS!  A mother watched her son be taken apart for four years because she wanted to let him make his own choices.  She had fears that he would run towards the mean lady, rather than away, if she opened her mouth and told her son what she saw.  Now, she did faithfully pray every stinking day for his eyes to open, and they finally did.  What patience that must have taken.  How her heart must have broken each time she saw them together.  But she kept her mouth shut and her eyes on her God.  I can only hope to esteem to half of that!

This time it was just $1.50 worth of mouthpiece, but what about next time he is disorganized?  Will I have the strength to keep my mouth shut again?  I certainly hope so.  I hope the learning I have had this time will bleed over into the next time I can see a train wreck about to occur.  

Day one of Lent, and the struggles begin

I have this grand plan of teaching the boys about Lent this year.  It is similar to a Jesse Tree from the Advent season where one would read a verse and apply a symbol to the tree daily.  They get to learn more about our God and I get in the Word daily.

As we all know, it is one thing to read and comprehend what you are reading. It is a total other realm to try to explain it to someone else.  I figure if I have to explain this totally abstract concept to my 7 and 5 year olds, then maybe I will understand Him better.  My theology is not super and I am an attack-it-with-gusto type of learner so I am sure this experience will be an interesting one.

Enter Ash Wednesday.  I have "written" my own progression through the last of Jesus' life for the 40 days and I am ready to begin the teaching.  My boys enjoyed doing the Jesse Tree readings in the morning with breakfast and so did I.  They were a captive audience, so to speak, and Buzz especially would focus on the verse to guess what the symbol was going to be.  He was the one that said "When are we going to read our verse to guess?" on December 26, and he was genuinely disappointed when we I told him that the Jesse Tree was done for this year.

I grab my Bible and sit down with them.  Wouldn't you know it that Buzz pipes in "Oh no!  Not again!"  Criminy, this is going to be a long 40 days if that is his first reaction.

I read the dust-to-dust verse from Genesis 3.  I had plans to use ashes from the wood burning stove for the wall poster.  I look over at the stove and realize that DadOfAllTrades has cleaned it out.  Not only removed the ash pile, but vacuumed it out.  I could possibly eat off the bricks they are so clean.  All I need is a finger-full of ash for this lesson.  None.

I am hoping this is not the way Lent will go.  Ugh!

Surprise for a Friend

Just this week, Buzz asked for an impromptu play date with his BFF, Aquaman.  Because I had only 537 things to do, it was a slow day, and I said OK.  Onward West, and we arrived at BFF’s house.  Play dates like this are cool, because I can get together with a friend, talk about nothing all afternoon, and say it was for the benefit of the kids.  Not so much as for the benefit of me being moderately lazy, but FOR THE KIDS.

So, we are chatting and I randomly look around at the stacks of neatly folded laundry. I am in awe that my friend not only folds her clothes right out of the dryer, but that she trusts mounded clean laundry to stay that way.  She has two boys, just as I do, and my neatly stacked laundry most definitely does not stay that way even though I put mine directly into baskets.  Hers is scattered on chairs, couch, coffee table, and is staying put.  Wow.  I think.

Then I see IT: a wool sweater that has been put in the dryer.

 

Those without trained eyes are probably wondering about my sanity right now.  Those who knit and know the pleasures of a fantastic, non-itchy all wool yarn are gasping.  Let me open those non-crafters eyes.  Wool fiber has these little barb like thingys on it.  When the fibers are rubbed together a lot, under heat, the barbs grab onto one another and hold tight.  If the rubbing continues, the fibers hold fast and become felt.  It is a fascinating process (to me, at least) and yields all sorts of interesting fabrics.

 

So, I see this sweater that has been accidentally felted and begin to mentally salivate.  Do you know all the things one can do with a felted sweater????   I have wanted to try some of them.  Now here is a sweater that fits the bill and it is just laying there.

“Ah..Friend?”  I say calmly.  “Wow.  This was shrunk.  What are you going to do with it?”

 

“You can have it if you want.  And here is the one DH shrunk.  You can have that too.  You got ideas?”  She knows I have the creating gene and sometimes is interested in what I can make.  I say sometimes because she so does not have the creating gene.  She would not mind me saying this as she has often declared such things herself.  Even has gone as far as screaming that she can’t even roll a tape ball.  But in reality, there is so much more to her that is creative.  Like her words-not everyone has something tangible for their efforts- and her sweet dough-on my stinking heck, good stuff.

 

So I just say “Yeah…”  and put the sweaters by my purse even though I really want to jump up and down hooting and hollering,  “Do you know the gift I have just received????”  But I don’t.  Because I don't want her to think I am weird, even though I really am.  And I know she knows it, and I know she knows that I know...

For the next hour I am barely able to concentrate as my mind is a-spinning with ideas.  I am mentally going through my craft room inventory of ribbon, buttons, fabric, and my mental pictures are almost too much to bear.

Now you know how I came upon the sweater.  Here is how I made it into a really cool bag.

First one has to explore options.  I laid out fabrics and ribbons with the sweater to see what struck me as great. 

I decide on the purple tie-dye looking bandannas, the polka dot ribbon and the purple button.

Then, the deconstruction:

I cut the arms and neck off the sweater.  I now have a tube, and a funky shaped piece of sleeve and collar.  I take the tube and stitch the new bottom as the old bottom is now the new top of the soon-to-be-bag.  Whew, that sounds harder than it really is.

So I sewed the bottom edge, and now I need to give the bag some shape.  I make the corners a square by folding the opening that is left.  I have put the seam that was the underarm against the seam that I just made and stitch away.

Now the bag has shape, but no handles or lining.  I cut strips from the sleeves that are slightly wider than the ribbon.  It took me some time to play around with the placement of the handles, but I finally get them where I want and I use a ton of pins to secure before stitching.

The handles are secured with a few rows of stitching.  This is no biggie as the stitching will not show on the outside-I will cover it up with the ribbon.  I stitch the ribbon on.  

Now for the lining.  The two bandannas get stitched together on the sides and bottom.   Then I do a corner triangle just like the bag itself.  

This piece is placed inside the bag inside out so that all the seams will be hidden.  I fold over the edge and pin the lining in place.  All that is left is hand-stitching the lining to the bag. 

 In the end, I decided not to use the purple button for a closure as the original sweater had a rolled edge.  It felted as a tube along the opening of the bag and any attempt to put a clasp in did not look "right".

So, now she will have a bag worthy of library books, toys, groceries, whatever.  No longer will she have a "worthless" shrunken sweater.  I hope she likes her surprise!!

As for the second sweater, here is my thought:

Happy Tuesday!

The Valentine's Day [Hair] Massacre

In the middle Of January, our family went to my brother’s house for my SIL’s birthday gathering.  Informal, just our family and her family. It a good time catching up with those kinda-in-laws, and kinda-BIL’s and kinda SIL’s.  I say this in the sense that they are my brother’s wife’s family so there is really no relation whatsoever.  But since we see them often, it is like they are really in-laws.  I am sure you have one or two of these yourself.  I hope.  Maybe I am just crazy.  

Oh well.

So we are sitting around, chatting, and my kinda BIL and fiancé-of-kinda- BIL jump up, grab a flyer from real SIL’s fridge and ask if we can get a sitter for February 12.  My first reaction is “Yeah,  that is four weeks away.  I hope I can get a sitter with that much lead time.”  So I say “yeah” and he invites us to a couple’s costume party for Valentines Day.  Oh, to be young, in love, and without kids. Bliss.

So for the next hour the conversation revolves around ideas for couple’s costumes.  He gets a little testy when we say we are going to come as ketchup and mustard.  That’s famous for being together, right?  I guess there is some technicality regarding real people.  My eyes light up when they suggest Dog the Bounty Hunter and his wife, Beth.  I used to watch that show religiously.  For some reason it fascinated me to no end.  This guy, who was once in jail, is now a bondsman and a darn good one at that.  He doesn’t judge his captures, just tries to reform them and bring them to Jesus, who saved him.  And seriously, how does Beth walk in stilettos with a bosom as large as that?  She can hardly drive because she can’t cross her arm across her chest to turn the steering wheel.

There is one twist to this couples costume party though.  One must bring food that “goes with” your character.  OK, so Dog the bounty hunter could bring hot dogs?  Or onion rings –like handcuffs?

 

A couple of days pass and I ask DadOfAllTrades if he can see himself as Dog.  He kinda mumbles something.  I have known this man for going on 13 years now and I am well aware of the fact that costumes and DadOfAllTrades usually are not found together.  Not that he doesn’t like them, but he doesn’t like them.  He sees no point.  He does not object to the kids dressing up, and finds it funny in fact, but he has no interest in doing it himself.  I somewhat figure that there is no way this party is going to happen for us and that is Ok.  The conversation about it was fun and got my creative juices flowing.

I randomly search for other ideas, but not with any amount of enthusiasm. 

The following weekend I am making cinnamon rolls for Buzz from this blog that I read regularly.  He loves him some sweet breakfast and I am, for once, going to oblige.  DadOfAllTrades and I are discussing nothing in particular.  Then it hits me like a ton of bricks.  My face lights up and I state “We can be The Pioneer Woman and Marlboro Man!!!!!.”  DadOfAllTrades looks at me questioningly, then gets it.

 

The Pioneer Woman is a blog that I follow.   She has a fancy-dancy site with info on her life, cooking, photography.  She is a LA-fasionista-vegetarian-high heeled wearing person who spent six months or so at home in between grad school and undergrad.  Then she met a cattle rancher and fell in love.  Her blog is entertaining, to say the least.  I have spent way too much time reading there when I should be doing something else.  She calls herself “Pioneer Woman” and her husband “Marlboro Man”.  Since my SIL is the one who turned me on to the cooking part of the site, she will totally know who we are.

“You already have a cowboy hat and boots!   All I would need is a red wig and I could wear regular clothes.  We can bring her cinnamon rolls [the ones she made on the Today Show]!!”  DadOfAllTrades seems intrigued.  Now THAT is the kinda costume he can get into.  Just regular stuff.

I order the wig and DadOfAllTrades tries on the hat and boots.  Sa-weet.  He’s a cutie!  Then he disappears into the bedroom and comes out with a western belt and big buckle.  He will never cease to amaze me!  This is getting fun.

Over the next week or so, DadOfAllTrades checks out the blog for photos of Marlboro Man.  I personally have not seen one, but then again, I have not searched.  I do know that the photos I have seen are him from the back or the top of his cowboy hat.  He does not like the spot light like she does, so he does not allow her to photograph him.  At least from the front full-face.  DadOfAllTrades is seriously studying this blog site.  He notices that Marlboro Man has short grey hair and a goatee.

 

The week before, DadOfAllTrades calls me from work and asks me to search the Wrangler site to see if they list retail stores in the area.  He wants to get the same kind of jeans this dude wears.  This is getting more fun.

Enter a few mix-ups with babysitting (of course, I thought it would be easy) the week before and some weird reactions to my wig try-on session.  It is Friday before the Saturday party.  At dinner, DadOfAllTrades asks if I can cut his hair short so he looks more like Marlboro Man.  Sure, I shrug.  Nary another thought.

 

Coffee brewed, breakfast eaten, and we are sitting in our pj’s and robes enjoying the morning.  Then the real bomb drops.  “So, are you going to color my hair or what?  You better do it before I change my mind.”

WHAT?!? 

Is DadOfAllTrades toally and completely embracing this idea?  Is he really going to go all out and COLOR HIS HAIR?  I darn near spit my coffee out and agree to run to the local Drug Mart.   In the hair color aisle, I am getting frustrated with the hair coloring choices because all of them want to cover grey, not color it grey.  We have many phone conversations with his sister who was a cosmetologist at one point regarding the look we want.  I eventually settle on a bleach-it-all- out type of color and run home.

The rest of the day is a blur:

DadOfAllTrades on the phone with his sister discussing weather hair had to be dirty or clean when coloring it.

DadOfAllTrades with a REALLY blond test patch above one ear.

DadOfAllTrades’ hair looking like Guy Fieri’s hair.

Me buzz-cutting the yellow spikes.

The dog looking at DadOfAllTrades funny-like.  If there was a word bubble over his head it would have read something like “I think I know that guy.  He smells like my human dad, but he sure doesn’t look like my human dad.   I think I will stare at it from this other room over here until I am sure.”

The boys giggling at the hair change.

DadOfAllTrades shaving off his beard to leave a goatee then deciding that the goatee is too dark and bleaching it.  [Side note: I have known DadOfAllTrades for going on12 years now and I have NEVER seen him without a beard.]

DadOfAllTrades wanting to go to the secondhand tack shop to see if they have chaps.

It was fabulous!  He looked like the Marlboro Man from Oklahoma.  I am hooked on DadOfAllTrades for doing this.

In our years together, DadOfAllTrades has given me a fair share of flowers, candy, etc.  He has come to know me well and realized that, while I love flowers, I have this little voice in my head that wonders what else can be done with the money he spent on something that is just going to die anyway.  To me it is akin to throwing out a ten dollar bill.  So, each and every Valentine’s day he kindly asks “What are we doing for this holiday.”  I usually let him off the hook with a “lets just buy some really good steaks and grill out.  No cards.”  And truthfully, that is the way I like it.  I would rather have his attention than any card.

 

However, this Valentine’s Day gift is something more.  He went outside his comfort zone: no costumes.   Not only did he dress up, he did it with such gusto, the likes of which I cannot describe.  It is difficult for me to put into words how touched I am and how lucky I feel.  He took it upon himself to get into the idea of the party instead of me just going out and buying a costume for him to wear.   He carefully thought out every detail.  He studied his subject.  He went to new stores.  He called his sister to ask about coloring hair.  He walked into a room full of strangers, dressed as a cowboy (chaps and all) with bleached blond hair and no beard.  He, who is usually quite happy to blend into the woodwork, was the center of attention all night with many explanations of “Wow dude, you look so different.”

I will never forget this Valentine’s Day!  I have my own Marlboro Man.  He is my shining light! 

Seven Quick Takes Number 5

1. I love the L.E.A.P. room in Buzz's school. It is like a cross between a library-play room-imaginarium.  Mrs LEAP Room is fabulous resource in and of herself.  The books are leveled and all play things are imaginative.  nary a Disney product to be found.  Every Friday afternoon has become a joy.

2. No offence to Disney-I am currently watching Toy Story 3 (or should I say Buzz is) and I truly think I can rank it as one of my top ten movies of all time.  I do think that children copy the story lines of a movie they have seen instead of being creative and imaginative in their play.  So, we only watch Disney occasionally.

3. My intent to give up refined sugar for Lent is becoming less appealing.   I am about to loose my nerve.

4. Vacation is not booked yet and I am somehow not worried.

5.  I have to create a "weed" costume for LegoMaster.  He wants to be a fuzzy-type dandelion.  I think I have a good idea, but I have yet to create it.  It involves white polar fleece, feathers and white floral wire.  Let's see where that goes.

6. I have 10 lessons  written for the Lent Bible study for the boys.  I am pretty proud of myself.  My thoughts are to do 4-5 a week so that the 40 days do not seem so tedious.  Frankly, I feel like a bumbling fool with the Bible and teaching it to the boys so I am letting Him guide me with his grace.  So far, so good.  Thank you Lord!

7. Sump pumps are good things.  I, however, have not realized how much they function.  You should see the pile of laundry that has been accumulating over the last three days.  Our pump has been failing so DadOfAllTrades has asked me not to use the washer as not to stress out the pump during the last days of it's life.  So, I have obliged and the pile is huge. 

Ta ta for now.