Chalky Hands

The girls used to love to draw on the sidewalks with chalk. Colorful hands were a common occurrence. What is so interesting about this is that Ash, my youngest, doesn’t normally like to get her hands dirty. Here though, she was proud of her multi-colored artwork.

Young girl holds up hands with chalky fingers. Not So SAHM

Chalky Hands – ProjectEdit365 – 13 Jan

The original was too warm, so I cooled it down a bit. Check out what other edits I did over at Project Edit 365! Thanks!

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Tea Time

Time with Daddy is always special. Now that they’re older, the girls go on Daddy Dates. When they were younger though, play time was special time with Daddy. And he’s good at playing with them too. I don’t have a great imagination and am just not very good at doing that kind of play for very long. He, on the other hand, always knew how to get down on their level and be a kid with them. I still say that dads are just kids in adult bodies.

We got our tea set in Poland. Polish pottery is expensive in America but was reasonable when bought in Poland. The factories had started making patterns that would appeal to Americans, thus the patriotic looking print.

A young girl sips tea during a tea time play date. Not So SAHM

Tea Time – ProjectEdit365 – 08 Jan

The yellow was tough to deal with while editing. Hop over to Project Edit 365, the blog I set up to chronicle my year-long challenge, to see how I edited the pic. Thanks!

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Blue Eyes Pouting

She wasn’t happy about getting dressed up to go out in the snow. Who knows why. But once we got her out there–building snowmen; on the sled; building a snow fort–she had a great time. Me, on the other hand–I was out just long enough to get some snaps and then I ran back inside to the warmth!

I’m posting this in honor of my friends up in Georgia and Alabama who are prepping for a few flakes tomorrow.

Young girl is not happy about being all dressed up and out in the snow. Not So SAHM

Blue eyes pouting – ProjectEdit365 – 05 Jan

I cropped in quite a bit from the original photo to really focus on her face. Head over to Project Edit 365 to see all the edits I made! Thanks so much!

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How To Imprison Your Child

Ashlyn under stool

How in the world!

Ashlyn has begun not to climb onto things, but to crawl underneath things. And she tends to get stuck in those places she tries to crawl under. Do you see the baker’s rack in the background of the photo? Notice that there’s only a 4 or 5 inch clearance from the floor to the lowest rack. She tried to shimmy underneath there. Twice. She got stuck. Twice. She screamed. Twice. Just like in this picture. Unfortunately I didn’t get a picture of the baker’s rack crawl. I really was a little more worried for her head…and shoulders…and torso. I thought I would have to unload everything off of that darn thing to lift it off of her, all the while with her screaming like she’s getting a finger sawed off. But somehow her body relaxed and I was able to free her. Twice.

Now, with today’s photo. Reagan and I were doing school in the kitchen. Minding our own business, we were eating a snackdeep in discussion, when we heard the familiar shrieks. Looking down we saw this. Ashlyn had shimmied underneath the stool and stood up inside it. AND she had gotten her rather large head (which we’re quite certain from these stunts isn’t all brain) stuck between two of the legs. I got her head free and then couldn’t resist. I had to get photographic evidence.

After taking the picture I tried to get her to bend her legs to sit down so I could remove the stool without her falling over. She was having none of that though. Her legs were as stiff as boards and she was not letting go of the legs of the stool. Somehow I prevailed and our daughter is now free to explore once more. Maybe I should have left her in there.

Guest Post from my better half

I’m handing over the blog reins to my husband for a post. Many of you have seen his handywork in the comments of some of my posts, setting the record straight where I “obviously” needed to be corrected. Now, without further ado–unedited, unfiltered (obviously, since there are glaring half-truths about me):

Our Saturday (through the eyes of the man of the family)

     After working for 12 days in a row, I was looking forward to a weekend. Time with the family, time to catch up on some chores, some reading, maybe even go into town. Well, Fri night I tell Vicki, “let’s go to KC Sat.” She says “great” but I can tell by the look on her face that she really wants me to do the planning. OK. No problem. A few internet searches and between Fri night and Sat morning I have 3-4 places to go. Sat morning, Reagan throws out two more. OK then, flush my ideas. We’ll go to Paradise Park. It’s a kid focused “edutainment” center that has activities where kids play and learn at the same time.

     Like the good driver I’m trying to be, I have a blue tooth hands free set for my cell phone. That’s what I use when I drive so I don’t get distracted with all of the button pushing and holding it up to my head while driving. Well, it’s an hour to civilization so I decide to give my mom a call to use that time efficiently. Good idea, right? Wrong. As soon as I connect with Mom, Ashlyn starts coughing up a lung. Then she works on the other lung. At the same time, Reagan, who now sits in the 3rdrow of the truck because she thinks its cool, is trying to ask Vicki 101 questions on anything and everything. I also had to make a few turning decisions as the coughing and questions were going on. Then my mom was asking me questions on politics and it was making me actually think of policy positions on very complex matters. All of that put together caused what some would call a “snap”. My blood pressure goes up, I start flashing the “quiet down or I’ll whoop you” hand signals to Reagan and not so kindly ask Vicki why Ashlyn hasn’t been to the doctor again. Ahh, a stress free weekend… And I am known for my awesome stress management J

     After talking with my Mom, I apologize to Vicki, Reagan, Ashlyn, the Dodge, the next door neighbor, anyone else I can think of and then take a deep breath and get a grip. We get to Paradise Park and it was not very crowded. The kids had a great time and it was nice. Reagan painted her face. She also painted a “flower” on Ashlyn’s forehead which really looked like a yellow bruise so the “looks” from other parents already started. After the pretend bank, pretend grocery store, the cooking class, eating lunch, playing in the plastic ball pit and more it was time to go.

     Off to where you ask? A civil war battlefield? A sporting event? No. Shopping it is. Woohoo! I drop Vicki off at Jo-Ann fabrics and per Vicki’s request, I can take the girls anywhere I want, just not to Jo-Anns J. OK, Just kidding. She does want me to take them though so we head to the Christian bookstore. Awesome. I drive over there, open the hatch to get the stroller and …. no stroller. Vicki has taken the “permanent” stroller out of the truck. No problem, right? It’s only two kids. Well, it’s a 6 year old that asks more questions than Jeopardy participants and a 1 year old, I mean octopus, that loves destruction. I held Ashlyn most of the time but when I was picking up an item to put in the hand basket, I would put her down. Boom, off like a shot. Reagan says, “Ashlyn”, I look down to see books, a book display, wire frame and all strewn across the ground. I look around, “nothing to see here, move along” as I quickly try to reassemble the display. I needed to put Ashlyn down to look at the back of a t-shirt, she pulls everything out of my basket, then proceeds to the bottom shelf of CDs; those don’t need to be there, they look much better scattered all over the floor. “Nothing to see here, move along” as I realize my welcome, even at this fine establishment is probably wearing thin.

     So, it’s off to Target. We get there and yes, they have carts. Woohoo! Ashlyn’s now in a cart. After a bathroom mishap that made someone else think they were in the girls bathroom instead of the guys, the girls and I have an uneventful time perusing every toy aisle, outdoor activities aisle, game aisle, video aisle in Target. It was a great time and after another 6 hours (just kidding), Vicki says she is ready to be done at Joanne’s and I can go pick her up.

     Now, it’s off to dinner. TGI Fridays. A nice place. Vicki and I were feeling a little cocky as Ashlyn hadn’t acted up in a few weeks at a restaurant; surely we can handle her at TGI Fridays. Boy, were we wrong! The food takes a while to get there but when it does, Ashlyn woofs down over half of Reagan’s oranges. She won’t eat any macaroni, potatoes, or anything else. When the last orange is eaten, she points at the empty dish and starts screaming her head off. Not the “hey, I’m hungry, dish me up some more food” scream but the “hey, I’m having my nails pulled out by these torturers” scream. Half of the restaurant is now looking at us. OK, then. I pick up Ashlyn and try to comfort her. No joy. The waitress comes over and asks if the police need called (just kidding). We order another thing of mandarin oranges (contrary to what we would do at home) but we couldn’t let her scream her head off in public and ruin everyone else’s meal, could we? I pick her up and head for the lobby. It doesn’t even take 3 steps and she’s acting totally normal. I hang there for about 3 minutes and think, she’s OK, let’s head back. Bad move. As soon as I sit down with her in my lap, the “help me from these evil people” scream comes out. Back to the lobby. Another baby is yelling somewhere else in the restaurant. A staff lady looks at the smiling Ashlyn and says, “you wouldn’t do that, would you?” I look her straight in the eye and say, “that’s why were standing here.” She obviously doesn’t believe me that this “angel” could holler like that. Just then, I see the oranges arrive at the table. We go back, set Ashlyn down and she eats the entire thing of oranges in about 2 minutes. She’s smiling, laughing, pointing. Good old Ashlyn. Then, she eats an entire thing of mashed potatoes. I tell Vicki that this is the other Ashlyn, the first Ashlyn isn’t ours.

     We have an uneventful trip home. It was a great day with the family! I hope you enjoyed reading about it.

Du