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Minnesota Mom Blog | Humor | Parenting | Writing | Lifestyle|Fitness| Tracy Morrison

How To Make A Vivienne Westwood Hat And Be Happy

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I may have mentioned once or twice the magic that is made at our preschool. Each week the kids learn a new song, and that songs becomes their ‘heading home’ song and it also becomes forever ingrained in their hearts as memories are made like lyrics to paper. These songs are not sung by Raffi or The Wiggles or even the fabulous Laurie Berkner. No these are songs by Bob Marley, Shakira, Michael Franti, The Beatles, Katy Perry and more.

 

Last week the song, the video, the dance, and the message was Happy by Pharrell Williams.  It’s been with us since watching Despicable Me 2 this Summer – and now it’s forever with us.

And who doesn’t want to be happy? And if you need 24 hour of Happy– Pharrell can get that for you too…And I DARE you not to clap along.

 

But just listening, dancing and singing along wasn’t enough for Astrid.

 

“Mommy, but I need to look like Pharrell. I need his hat! I can’t do the dance properly without the hat.”

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Source

The hat. Oh Astrid, Mommy doesn’t do crafts nor have several gazillion dollars to buy the hat.

 

“I know you can do it, Mommy.”

 

Oh the trust of children.

 

So I summoned up my little bit of craft knowledge – which is basically from watching my mother-in-law play with my kids, because SHE is amazing and creative – but sadly 2000 miles away. And something she loves to do is make paper bag hats. Someday I will write a post about these lovely hats with flowers that are proper enough for an adult tea party. You will be impressed.

 

So I quickly fashioned a Pharrell Williams via Vivienne Westwood hat out of a grocery bag for Astrid to wear.

 

The girl has barely taken it off and cannot stop smiling. And I admit I did a quick and shoddy job – but Astrid is four and to her the hat is perfect. And Mommy made it.

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A few simple steps – turn a standard grocery bag inside out and trim to height and shape it how you want it. Draw and cut-out a cardboard ring that will fit well around your child’s head. Glue or staple the bag to the ring.

 

Give to child. They will freak from excitement.

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Wear and dance.

 

And she did…

Now just try NOT to be HAPPY!

 

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Speaking of last minute crafts – do you have your Valentine’s done yet? I’ve got my easy personal photo Valentines on The Twin Cities Mom Blog. It’s not too late to get those done!

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What Do You Learn In Preschool

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I vaguely remember preschool. I remember it was in a church basement; Lutheran, even though we were Catholic. And my teacher wore her hair high up on her head in curls that were neatly pinned like flowers. She also wore a tan, ribbed turtleneck top, a huge smile, and sensible shoes most days. I remember playing with various toys, reading books, signing songs, and learning the importance of sitting quietly on a carpet as we all faced the teacher. My teacher, in 1972, wore a miniskirt as she sat on a chair facing us. We could spy her undies every day. We loved her. And her undies and how they made us giggle.

 

Preschool was a place to go and socialize with other kids, a place where you learned a little body control and how to listen to a teacher, and a foundation for getting you ready for your adventure to bigger and better learning.

 

Preschool should be magical. It should be a place where unicorns graze in rainbow colored fields under a jelly bean sky. Preschool teachers I believe are hatched from pastel colored eggs that have been dipped in fairy dust before being carried down to earth by white swans wearing tutus.

 

This is how I want my daughters to feel when they go off to preschool. I want them to feel like they are wrapped up in magic at every turn.

 

And we’ve found that spot with our preschool.

 

Don’t laugh at me, but I have tears running down my face a I type this. And when Astrid’s teacher hugged me hello this morning I cried then too. Just feeling her warmth and by knowing how safe and happy Astrid is there. Each day her teacher hugs or touches me and tells me words that are reaffirming. “We love Astrid so much. She’s a delight. She makes my heart happy. Her smile lights up a room. She’s a lovely friend. I don’t want her to ever go to kindergarten…”

 

And I cry again. I’ve warned them that I plan to just come and sit in the classroom next year for a few hours even though Astrid will not be there. Because I need more unicorns and fairy dust in my life. Everyone should have a place that makes you feel this good.

 

Astrid’s school focuses a lot on music and art. Each ‘lesson’ or monthly plan is about a band or artist. They’ve studied The Beatles, Bob Marley, Michael Franti, Taj Mahal, Claude Monet and more. They learn all of the songs or paintings, have dance parties, and explore the places and cultures where the artists are from. This is her preschool curriculum, and I melt over it each day I enter that happy place to drop her off. And I linger longer there than I have at any other school.

 

We’ve spent months singing along with Astrid as she continues to appreciate the arts at home – and teach us what she has learned. And I love it so hard that no one is pushing phonics or math or early reading books on this child. This child with a song in her heart.

 

Her favorite song from the year is Cakewalk Into Town by Taj Mahal… and she sang a few versus for us. And I think if we all listen and watch this just a few more times, well no one will get the blues ever again.

 

Guaranteed unicorns, rainbows, swans and jelly beans if you watch this….

What do you love about your child’s preschool?

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Smartie

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Astrid and I were watching a goodnight show on TV the other night. There is this giant stuffed star(seriously, you watch this show don’t you?) that goes to sleep in a hammock each night. Typically I don’t really watch this show. She enjoys her 15 minutes of it before we read books for bed and it gives me 15 minutes to try to get past level 125 of Candy Crush(How do you get past level 125?).

 

But on this particular night I had gone through my five lives on Candy Crush quite quickly and found myself watching this Star go to sleep. And my goodness this big yellow star has HUGE, BRIGHT, ORANGE eyelids when he closes his eyes and drifts off to sleep.

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So I said startled “Whoa, look at his huge orange eyelids. I had no idea!”

 

“Um, Mom he’s had those forever, don’t you watch?”

 

Busted.

 

“Of course I watch – I just didn’t realize they were SOOO orange.” I said to cover my tracks. And then to be playful “They are super orange just like your eyelids, Astrid.”

 

“I don’t have orange eyelids.”

 

“How do you know since you’d be sleeping when they are closed, so you could not see them, so how would you ever know the color of your eyelids?” I challenged. “They are bright orange, trust me.”

 

“Well duh(she has tween sisters), Moommm, I just have to look in the mirror and close one eye while I leave the other eye open and then switch eyes. I will always know the color of my eyelids and they are currently not orange. Only stars have orange eyelids.”

 

I don’t like not being able to trick four year olds. It’s like she’s ripping me of my guaranteed rights as a mother.

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I Believe In Magic

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“Mommy, I think I’m ready to talk to Santa this year.” Astrid says very quietly one evening after dinner when all of us still gather around the dining room table doing homework, writing, paying bills, and if you are only four years old – coloring.

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“I mean, I will talk to him – but I’ll be standing next to him. Not on his lap. I don’t want to touch him. But I’ll say hi maybe and tell him my name. I want to tell him that I only want a talking scale this year just like the one in Costa Rica so it will yell out “31.2 pounds” all day every day if I want it to. I need to tell him about the scale so I get it. That’s the only thing on my list.”

 

“Maybe it’s a good idea for all three of you to get your Santa lists ready!” I suggest after Astrid’s announcement that she is “Santa-talk ready” this year. “I’ll make reservations for us to visit him this Saturday.

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Eloise looks up from her algebra – stopping mid-problem that has something to do with coefficients and rises and runs and things I no longer understand – and says “Yeah okay Mom, let me get right on that. Ha!”

 

“Ha!?!” I stand and hold my hands up to my heart as if shot and take a deep breath in before responding with a “Santa is watching and he heard what you just said!”

 

“Oh, okay Mom. Let me just get right to that list after I finish my algebra and type-up my endangered animal study paper….”

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I look to Astrid and Esther who have already gotten out plain paper, red markers and stickers and are happily making Santa Lists.

 

And I sit back down hard as I realize she no longer believes. And the hurt takes me by surprise.

 

I mean she’s 11 and all – and maybe you’re thinking “Geesh, it’s about time!” Because maybe that’s what I was thinking a few years back when at eight and nine she still did believe while I figured the whole ‘Santa’ thing out by the time I was five.

 

I continue to sit quietly at the table and glance over my coffee and then I meet Eloise’s eyes. She gives me a quick, small knowing smile and wink before getting back to her work.

 

And I cannot help from almost crying as our eyes meet because I know she gets it. Because even though she may no longer believe in the actual Big Man himself, she still gets the magic of the season and the importance to not give her new found knowledge away to her little sisters.

 

Later that night she hands me her Santa List – which even starts with “Dear, Santa” and ends with “Love, Eloise” – and as she hands it over to me she says “You know just in case you’d like to know what’s on my list too.”

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I smile as she walks away and heads up to bed.  I carefully unfold her letter and read the first two items on her list…

 

-I would like to raise at least $100 to adopt a Panda from WWF to help stop their endangerment.

-I would like Astrid to get the talking scale she wants

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And I know that she still believes in magic because she continues to wish for very good things.

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Do you have a Holiday outfit planned for your little girl for Christmas? I was thrilled to receive the Twinkle Party Dress and matching dress for Bitty Baby from American Girl to review.  Astrid pretty much doesn’t go anywhere without her ‘Baby Anna’ and now they can match when we have breakfast with Santa this weekend. And they can ask for the scale together! In fact Astrid has refused to take her party dress off for the past three days because she feels like a ‘special princess’ and has told me that ‘Baby Anna’ will never wear anything BUT her fancy red dress. So there you go. They love their matching dresses and I about died from the cute. I think Santa will be equally impressed this weekend and now we don’t have to stress about what to wear on Christmas eve.

 

If you haven’t purchased your Holiday Dress yet and you have a little one who loves AG – I for sure recommend these cute sets! I am a HUGE fan of American Girl as you know – for celebrating girls and sending a positive message to our kids…so having these special dresses for Astrid and ‘Baby Anna’ is just a bit of sweet icing on the cake for us.

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The Birthday

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Astrid went to her first ‘friend’ birthday party today. It was the first time she entered a toy store and shopped for a special something to give to a friend. To choose the wrapping. To make the card. She carefully printed the letters “Happy Birthday” and “Love Astrid” and she only made one of the Ps an R instead with that extra leg. But she crossed it out when she figured out her mistake, and she also drew two girls holding hands – and they each had a belly button, and a cake with five candles.

 

And I remarked “I think you are too young to have friends turning five. I mean you just turned four a few short months ago, perhaps it’s time to consider younger friends. Because you know what happens after five…KINDERGARTEN!” And I said it like it was college or marriage or something equally foreign and faraway-off to a preschooler.

 

So I drove her to the party and walked her to the door. I was awkward with the mom because even though I’ve had two “4s” before, I’ve forgotten etiquette and age and things over the last five years and I said “I guess I’m assuming this is a drop-off party, right? I mean I know Astrid will be fine and have fun without me and here’s my number just in case?” And the mom assured me that dropping off was just fine. I kissed Astrid and reminder her to use good manners and I walked away with a smile that I did something right.

 

But when I picked her up Astrid told me that I was the only mommy not there. Instead of beating myself up about that point I asked Astrid if she was okay without me, and she said “Yes, it was fun and I didn’t need you to have fun with my friends.”

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Which is typically true. And a goal.

 

So I think we did okay today.

 

She came home with a balloon and a bag of candy and memories of her first birthday party by herself. And I had two hours for a latte and spent some time catching up on tween business and shopping for cheap mood rings with her sisters. (Green means kooky by the way – which Esther always is).

 

And I tried not to be sad about the ‘5’ birthday that is next..because ‘4’ is just so perfect. And I had forgotten that. I don’t remember Eloise at four because I was busy with a toddler and by the time Esther turned four I was pregnant and then had a newborn and I honestly was happy my ‘4’ was at school quite a bit.

 

So I’m glad I’ve been given another shot at four with Astrid. Because if you don’t already know – there isn’t a better age(well except maybe 24 when everything is still tight). A four year old is full of wonder yet is wise. Can converse and understand. Can go potty by themselves. They can do big-kid things, but still snuggle like a little-kid. They can clean up the messes and make amazing and inquisitive discoveries. They hear everything and question and discover and pretend. Their thoughts are complex but their needs are still so simple. Their books are bigger and they put on their own shoes. They sleep in their own beds yet still have blankies for snuggles. They sing long songs, tell jokes and still crawl up on your lap. They make the sun just a little brighter and the moon even more interesting.

 

So I hope to remember this year of ‘4’ as a time we all sat still in appreciation just a few moments longer as we rushed from place to place each day.

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Three Little Birds

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Astrid started preschool this week which means that I now have seven and a half hours a week to myself. Which means I have time to do nothing really. And I wonder who invented the two and half hour preschool day idea? Because it wasn’t a mom.

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So I’m going to blame preschool on men. Maybe white, Republic men who also try to take away reproductive rights from families.

 

OMG seriously, I’M KIDDING! Don’t send me hate mail.

 

Okay, quick – LOOK HOW CUTE SHE IS!

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And as much as I’m not religious or spiritual or even sane sometimes, I believe things do happen for a reason. I had hoped that Astrid would get into a public preK program this year – which did not happen. And I spend a few(many) days(months) upset about that.

 

But after just three days of preschool, I know she is right where she is suppose to be – in a classroom on a very part-time basis, having fun, learning about Bob Marley and dreadlocks and singing Three Little Birds while coming home to me for lunch and only spending seven and half short hours away from me each week.

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Because next year she’ll be gone for seven hours A DAY – so why rush it. Instead of worrying that she is not in preK, I’m going to worry about did we snuggle enough yesterday, did I tickle her belly and hear that deep laugh, let’s have chocolate for lunch and take a walk in the afternoon and wear silly shoes to the bus stop to pick-up her sisters.

 

And I’ll completely enjoy this last year before Astrid really starts school and has to stress about tests and homework and friends. Which really makes me sad right now. I received and email from Eloise’s 5th grade teacher about math placement tests and how stressed all of the kids are about them – as in our school they move kids around for ‘just right math’ so kids move to different grades for math…and everyone knows your math abilities. I don’t remember knowing this a kid. And my heart sunk when I got this note and I’m angry for these kids and angry as a parent if I’ve ever sent my kids a message that I care what grade math they are doing – because I just want them to be happy(and also, I cannot help with 7th grade math).

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And sometimes I wish my almost 11 year old could just stay home with me too and listen to some Bob Marley and visit the park and not stress about math tests. Because I’ve never used calculus to do my job and make my life more fulfilling, but some good music(and maybe a good twirly dress) – damn that makes me happy.

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“Rise up this mornin’,

Smiled with the risin’ sun,

Three little birds

Sittin’ by my doorstep

Singing’ sweet songs

Of melodies pure and true,

Saying’, “This is my message to you-o-o.”

“Singin’ Don’t worry about a thing,

‘Cause every little thing gonna be alright”

Singin’ Don’t worry about a thing,

‘Cause every little thing gonna be alright!”

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Back To School

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The big kids went back to school this week.

First Day Of School

And I miss them.

 

Or Astrid misses them. And Truffle – dang Truffle cat misses them a lot because now Astrid has no one to play with, so Truffle has to wear stuffed animals on his back and try to put together puzzles. And he’s really bad at puzzles because he doesn’t have thumbs. So he was fired yesterday as Astrid’s playmate and she asked me to step-in.

Save me!

Save me!

I also suck at puzzles. Also, I’m horrible at playing Little People. And her dress-up costumes don’t fit me. She also doesn’t think I’m very good at reading. You see she and Eloise were trying to get through all of Roald Dahl’s books this Summer and they didn’t quite finish The BFG yet – so she asked me to read a chapter. And I guess I really suck at reading…so Astrid told me to stop because Eloise does voices better and I’m super boring.

 

So I’m apparently not good for anything but fixing snacks and wiping her butt.

 

Other than that – Astrid wishes that her sisters never had to go to school.

 

I’m feeling that way too. I miss them. We had an amazing Summer. From roadtrips, to camps, to days at the pool, and cool nights of riding our bikes to ice cream – this Summer might go down as one of the best.

 

Which just means that I am going to plan for The Super Sucky Summer of 2014 – because I don’t want to miss my kids next Fall when school starts again.

 

Because it hurts.

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But the girls are back in the school-grove and seem crazy happy just living their fancy school lives without us. They missed their friends I think. And maybe they were sick of me nagging them to clean their rooms.

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(Eloise is wearing jeggings and booties from Justice, a top from Nordstrom and we hand-painted her panda nails)

Eloise loves fifth grade and has an awesome teacher. In Eloise’s words – and in one really really long run-on sentence “Seriously, my teacher is amazing – she is super strict – which is so awesome because you know I love class control and someone who is organized and structured and keeps the crazy boys inline – and she’s is totally that kind of teacher…AND the best part is that we get homework every night – even weekends and we have to write a three page essay the first night of school – this is like crazy amazing and I really love my teacher and it’s going to be the best year ever and I’m going to my room now to do my homework so don’t bother me and I hope we get even more homework tomorrow and I’m going to work on some extra math tonight because I am going to try to get placed in 7th grade math this year because I want more work and to learn more and always be challenged.”

 

Mon Dieu.

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(Esther is wearing a dress and jacket from Justice. Sandals are Lelli Kelly)

Eloise loves third grade and her teacher is also super amazing. Esther didn’t have much to say except that she had two recesses and they had grilled cheese and tomato soup for lunch. Also, her old boyfriend is in her class and she giggled a lot about that because she still likes him, but he likes Ruby better now, but Ruby is Esther’s friend – so it’s okay that he likes her. And she played with lots of friends at the playground and they chased and stuff and she needs to wear bike-shorts under her skirt tomorrow because she wants to climb on top of the monkey bars. Also, they had popcorn for snack and Maggie got cool new shoes and she’s looking forward to music class.  Also, a boy said bad words on the bus, so she moved seats. Obviously.

 

I think maybe Esther also had math, reading and other such school subjects – but those were not mentioned.

 

So happy school year everyone!

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Finish Strong

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“Did you win, Mommy?” Were Astrid’s first words as she walked in the door Saturday at noon and immediately reached up so her arms could wrap around me. “I missed you.” She whispered as her mouth met my ear.

 

“No, Baby, I didn’t win.” I answered. “But I wasn’t trying to win. I was just happy to finish strong.”

 

“Oh Mom, that’s too bad.” Esther said as she hugged me around my waist and I kissed the top of her head.

 

Eloise gave me her typical kind of ‘lean-in to touch shoulders with me, almost a high-five, bend her head down to meet mine, and then turn away quickly’ pseudo tween hug and said “Good job anyway, Mom. Do you know the person who won?”

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Their innocent faith in my abilities made my heart grow 50 sizes in that short, shared moment. Because honestly winning was never in my game-plan, training plan, mind-set, physical abilities or truthfully even a pipe-dream that I’ve ever had.

 

I just wanted to finish the race with a decent time, not last, and without poop in my shorts.

 

Kind of like I just want us all to reach bedtime each day alive..and maybe clean. My goals are small, short-term and I hope doable.

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That’s how I tackle motherhood, because frankly the daily defeats would leave me frustrated and depressed.

 

So my mantra each day of motherhood is just to finish strong.

 

I mean sure we want good things each day – a favorite meal, a new book, to run around outside in the sprinkler with friends and to go on a bike ride. Maybe we got to watch our favorite show, taught our cat a new trick or went out for ice cream.

 

Good things happen along the route each day of our race – the fans clap, we get water, someone yells our name tells us we are doing awesome. But that still doesn’t make me win or even give me the will to want to win.

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It just gives me the will to keep going – even on those very hard days and miles that I just want to quit – one foot in front of the other, waffle toasted, one more dish put away, shirt folded, bo0-boo kissed, pictured colored, lunch packed, lap snuggled, tooth brushed, goodnight kiss.

 

Because this motherhood road is long and winding with finishers medals that look like clay hand-prints for Christmas trees and smudges on light switches..and juice boxes remains that we drink instead of champagne.

 

And I will never be a winner in this race – but for my children, I vow to try to always finish strong for them each day. Because they believe I can.

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And to hopefully I will do it without poop in my pants.

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Free At Last

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I sat on a playground bench on Sunday for one hour and thirty minutes.

 

One hour and thirty minutes. And my children were there too. But none of them needed me.

 

It happened.

 

I didn’t need to hold, left, catch, push, brace, hover, or really even look up if I didn’t want to.

 

Did I mention 90 minutes.

 

I’ve arrived. I’ve arrived.

 

If I had known I was going to arrive, I would’ve brought a latte and People Magazine. But I truly did not know I was going to arrive on Sunday. We really never do know when the big moment will happen in motherhood.

 

Do you know what I mean by ‘arrive?’

 

That day at the playground when all of a sudden you are one of ‘them’ – the moms who can just watch quietly from the bench instead of getting sand in your sandals and fitting your ass down the slide.

 

I’m one of them now. We need pins.

 

Do you remember three years ago how I wanted to know them? And Astrid looked like this…

..but now she’s four. And she tells me she is big and four and the biggest girl of all and can no longer be my baby and she can do everything all by herself and doesn’t want help and just helps herself to snacks in the fridge and lets herself out of the door and would rather just keep the door closed when she pees.

 

Well now she owns the whole.damn.playground.

And those three years since I wrote that post. Well, they went by in a snap. A half of a snap. A snap of a snap. In fact I barely remember any of those days…except maybe the ones with lots of sand in my shoes.

 

And soon I won’t have to get in the pool anymore(unless we’re at a water park of course…we are heading to Chula Vista resort in Wisconsin Dells next week and I’m all about the lazy river!). And then they will go around the block by themselves. And then to the store. And soon they will get themselves to school and drive a car and then leave for college and travel the world.

 

And I’ll drive by the playgrounds and see the moms pushing their sweet babies in the swings and I’ll miss it.

 

No matter how much I don’t miss it now. I know I will miss it then.

 

Because that’s how motherhood goes.

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Four

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I’ve been dreading this day for awhile now. Which is strange, as I’m not one of ‘those’ moms. I love watching my kids grow and change and learn and discover. I love the wonder that each year brings, just like we are standing on the edge of the teen years – and while I’m admittedly a bit scared, I’m also excited. I love life even more(and I never thought it would be possible) as my kids get older, because they can finally understand humor and sarcasm, the power of a well-timed punch line and that knock-knock jokes are ridiculous – and they can also make their own lunches and mop the floor without missing too many spots.

As kids get older they also read more interesting books – books that you can share, conversations become more adult-like, and they are welcome in all public places and have good manners. They also like to give you fashion advice and will quietly point out that piece of spinach in your teeth. They are truly like miniature girlfriends. Pocket friends that I can still put to bed early.

But this last Four has hit me hard.

 

You see, when they are three and under – they talk in that cute voice – comical almost and cannot pronounce all of their letters. It’s adorable. When they are three and under they have a bit of baby fat on their thighs and cheeks and the remnants of a toddler belly. They still cannot run very fast. When they are three and under, they still tuck neatly into your lap, can wrap around your hips when carried, and still need your assistance to get into the car.

But everything changes at four.

 

Their hair is suddenly long..and styled. Their words become clearer and sentences long and complex. Their vocabulary goes crazy and soon their sweet baby voice will be gone forever.

 

I’ll never hear again from one of my children “Mommy, I wuv you fowevah!” While they curl up on my lap with their blanket.

I mean sure we will snuggle and love, but their legs start falling over the edges of my lap and their baby fat has been replaced by angled joints that poke my ribs as we try to find that comfortable place that was like an easy puzzle put together just a few short months ago.

 

And this Summer, my Four will run fast down the sidewalks as she can nearly keep up with the big kids instead hanging back with the moms as we chat.

 

And I let her go.

It’s the same for all of us, even though I know I don’t want more babies and won’t have more babies – Four is letting go of all of that babyhood stuff and stages and I feel a catch in my throat when I think about the finality of it all.

 

So I think of the videos I need to capture – to hear that voice again when she is 15 and 25 and to see her three year old chubby cheeks and perfect line of baby teeth in her innocent big grin.

 

Because it’s ending here – this babyhood – and moving into big kid land with Four. How bittersweet is this age. Even though three was just yesterday, and Four is today, and more is yet to come – I find myself grasping to time with this last baby of mine, because truly – we all know there’s plenty of time to be a grown-up.

So I think I’m going to let her be a baby just a bit longer.

 

Because Four is really not all that big, right?

Happy Birthday, to my sweet baby girl. FOUR!

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Rainbow Birthday Party

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Astrid turns four on Tuesday – so I’m saving some very poetic, thoughtful, and mushy stuff for a post for her special day. Or maybe I’ll just tell you about how damn bossy she is getting. My gah, four year olds know everything!

But today, we celebrated her birthday. We decided to do it in true Midwestern style and have a garage party since the temperature was suppose to be ‘cool’ and by ‘cool’ I mean below 85 degrees.

Did you ever have garage parties when you were little?

I’ve attended and we’ve hosted many of these. And nobody in the Midwest would ever question it. You see, instead of using linen tablecloths, putting out your fine china, cleaning your home, and decorating your dining room with flowers and fancy stuff – you just put up a few shower curtains to hide the tools, ignore the work benches and lawn mowers, move the rakes out of your way, use the blower to get rid of the big dirt, tape up a few streamers, set-out the folding tables,\ and baseball watching chairs, get out some vinyl tablecloths, and paper plates and napkins and maybe a bit of sidewalk chalk for fun – and BOOM – GARAGE PARTY!

And I’ll tell you this, there’s not one four year old in the world that would care if they were in your greasy garage versus your fancy dining room. In fact, I think Astrid would tell you that this was one of her best birthdays…because she got to spend it with her cousins, and her birthday was completely rainbow – which was her only request.

I mean of course with the rainbow party request I had to make a layered rainbow cake because Pinterest made me do it.  I followed Betty’s tried and true instructions and it turned out perfectly. I think everyone but my mother could probably make one. The gummi bears were Astrid’s only decoration request. And I think she may have just taken a few extra to eat while we were decorated.

And I had to buy a few rainbow dresses(and shorts for Eloise – because, what’s a dress?), because what’s a party without an excuse to shop for new clothing? I could never pass on that opportunity. In case you are wondering what the dresses are – Esther’s is here and Astrid’s rainbow dress is here.

We put Astrid through the spanking machine(does your family do this?), and she promptly played with every toy she received. Her rainbow Play-doh was brown within just a few minutes because the girl just loves to mix her colors. Next year I might just make her a brown cake and tell her that I decided to mix the colors all together, so too bad!

But for most of the garage party we just ate and talked and giggled with a little girl turning four. And when you are with good friends and family, well ignoring a few power tools behind your shoulder is pretty damn easy to do.

And with that, I highly suggest a garage party of your own.

Happy Rainbow Birthday Party, Astrid! xoxo

 

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Me Myself And I #girlsaretrippin

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We just drove 800 miles. It’s amazing how much easier the driving gets each day. I feel like I could pack my kids up and make it to California within a day or two. And in case you’re wondering, my kids have never complained during the almost 4000 miles that we’ve now been in the car. In fact, sometimes after a silent three hours or so I actually call back to them to make sure they are there. Did I forget someone at the last rest stop? Did they choke on an almond from the snack bag? True story – a certain panic can set-up when you haven’t heard another voice in so long.

 

Okay, there was a complaint/whine registered yesterday when Queen’s Bohemian Rhapsody came on the radio and I turned it up ALLTHEWAY and started screaming along. My kids didn’t like that so much. “Mom, that is awful music!” “Mom, you’re embarrassing us!” “Mom, that’s too loud!” “Mom, I cannot focus on reading when you act like this!” Stick in the muds much?

 

Anyway, they mainly read in the car. Eloise and Esther read nonstop and Astrid reads, plays some games on the iPad and watches a movie here and there. I honestly don’t know what they do as I’m driving and they seem quiet, alive and happy.

But on Sunday during a particularly long pull through Pennsylvania, Eloise started asking trivia questions to all of us – from history, facts about the presidents, music and movies, and facts about The States – she asked them all and we had a fun game. So, when Eloise’s questions stopped, Astrid decided to make-up her own trivia game for us. Astrid’s game was called “Panda Trivia” and all questions were about Pandas and the answer to ALL of the questions was “Bamboo.” So, if she were to ask “What food does a panda eat?” You would answer “bamboo!” And if she were to ask “What is the panda’s favorite color?” You would answer “bamboo!”  So, Astrid asked hundreds of questions about pandas – from allergies to favorite swimming places, to articles of clothing and vacationing spots..and if you are following along, you just always answer with “bamboo!” And then Astrid would say “You are correct!”

 

Although adorable, this game got old after about 20 minutes and soon Eloise and Esther dropped out of the game and returned to their books. I made it about 10 more minutes and sadly, I also had to drop-out of the game..because “BAMBOO!” And a building annoyance called parenting a preschooler and their games just don’t stay exciting for very long. Also, a Carol King song came on the radio and I was in the mood for a soulful singalong.

 

At first Astrid sadly said “But who will play with me now?” But then after a few moments, she just continued asking the questions, responding with “Bamboo!” to her own questions and then praising herself for getting the question right with a “Yes! That is correct!” She did this for almost another hour. Then she said “I think I’m done with that game now, and I’m the big winner. Who knew that I knew so much about pandas, but I seem to know everything!” Then she quietly went back to looking at books for two more hours.

 

I don’t entertain my kids. Sure, I’ll play a card game and make a hopscotch course on the sidewalk, and get out the art supplies for a project..but I encourage my kids to make their own games and learn to entertain themselves.

And after driving nearly 4000 miles in dozen of hours in almost complete peace and quiet with not-a-one “Are we there yet?” or “I’m bored?” or “How much longer?” or a fight for “My turn for the iPad!” – I guess my kids have developed the life-skill of MAKE YOUR OWN FUN! – because I’m able to listen to the radio with the music that I LIKE in the car, and nobody complains – unless it’s a Queen song of course.

 

I win.

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As Your Are

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A gentle reminder….

 

Your children don’t care if your hair looks nice, if your clothes are ironed, if you showered this morning or forgot to wear deodorant, if your belly jiggles or again you left the house with one black sock and one brown one. They don’t care if you applied make-up or did school drop-off again in your jammies or if you haven’t exercised all week or that your favorite show right now starts with words “The Real Housewives.”**

**Please note that once your child turns about nine – all bets are off and you are typically  to be kept at home, or at least walk 10 paces behind your children as certain things do make you an embarrassment to all tweens at all times –  even if you do look nice and have showered, you could become a liability at anytime. Do not question the authorities.

 

It was pouring out this morning when I took my run. I took a longish eight mile run and when I returned I was soaking wet from rain and sweat. As soon as I walked back in the house at barely dawn and had just starting pouring my coffee, I heard Astrid call out “Mommy, Mommy, come get me from my bed, I’m scared.”

 

I admit that at first I sighed and frowned as I took a sip of my hot coffee and walked into the hall to find a dry shirt. I admit that the last thing I really wanted to do was trudge upstairs and grab her out of bed. It was 5:30am, I just finished my run, I was wet and drippy, my coffee was hot, and my typical Sunday morning routine was to now get dry, get warm, drink a pot of coffee and read the news on Facebook in my quiet early morning house all.by.myself. This would not be my perfect morning.

But she kept calling for me “Mommmmyyyy..”

 

So I quietly walked up the stairs as to not rouse another soul and quickly snatched her out of her bed and into my arms.

 

My first words to her were “I’m sorry that I’m so wet and now I”m getting you all wet and cold, so let me grab a dry shirt before we snuggle.”

 

Astrid’s response, “You are just the way I like you, Mommy.”

 

“You like me wet and cold?” I asked as I laughed at the thought.

 

And she replied “I’ll take you anyway I can get you. I just wanted you. Now let me rub my hands on your goose-bumpy legs to try to make them warmer for you.”

And then I realized that my morning was perfect. Just the way it was.

 

Happy Sunday.

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Great Expectations

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Astrid is slowly trying to kill me. My first two girls were beautifully agreeable to everything that I’ve ever said or asked them to do.

 

Astrid(thankfully) has a mind of her own – and she’s not afraid to use it on any of us.

She is the clear boss of the household and we are just her humble servants.

 

I’m not sure how this all came to be, but I’m currently too tired to even fight her anymore.

 

Also, she’s so damn cute that I let her get away with it.

 

Today, I’ve written a guest post about Astrid and her waiting game – and how turnabout is fair play.

 

Please come visit me today at Greta’s Place.

(comments closed here)

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City Girl

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I paid $8 for parking today which really doesn’t seem like much for a big city, but I only needed to park there for 10 minutes so I could pop-in somewhere, and the only street parking I could find was beyond my parallel parking capabilities, which are slightly diminished in the winter when you have to heave your vehicle up and over a wall of ice, slush and snow whilst spinning your tires trying to back into a damn spot while some asshole honks as you are now taking up a lane of traffic in the ‘oh so get out of my way’ busy, busy metropolis of Minneapolis, and then you roll down your window and a goldfish cracker falls to the road as you scream “I’m just a simple housewife from St. Paul and I’ll just be a minute!”

 

And then you fret that you just littered a cracker onto the street and you try to remember exactly where it is because you will for sure risk your life in just a few minutes trying to recover your offense because you will not be part of that problem. Traffic halter=yes. Litterer=no.

 

So you give up and drive around the block to a pay lot and tell the guy that you just need 10 minutes to drop-off some papers and really don’t need the full-day $8 rate and he just looks at you like you are crazy. So you pay him $8 in dimes, pennies, goldfish cracker dusts, and with $5 that you took from seven year old’s tooth fairy savings stash, and you park in the smallest spot known to man just knowing that there is no way in hell you will even be able to back out your van without hitting that 3-series BMW that probably belongs to a 26 year old man with a small penis, so maybe you should just leave him a note now to apologize for the slight scratch down the side.

But wait, you haven’t even walked across the parking lot yet and it’s the perfect temperature in Minneapolis today – you know 30 degrees and bright sun that causes the ice and snow to melt into a 6″ deep ocean of gray slush that you now trudge through in your cute brown wedge boots while carrying your three year old as she would for sure get swept away.  So you trudge the two blocks to the building and hand-out your last $2.78 in coins and your remaining goldfish to the two homeless people leaning against the building around the corner. And you do this with your third arm that all mothers come with because your other two are holding your child, holding your skirt down from the wind, and clutching your handbag for dear life.

 

And as you round the corner you see that the damn goldfish cracker that you dropped on the street is still there and intact and you debate on whether or not the birds will eat it, a car with smash it, or is it your civil duty to save the fish and avoid littering while dodging traffic.

 

So you get the fish out of the sludge and put it in your pocket to throw away later. It’s still there.

And you complete your errand and go back to your car and give the parking attendant a dirty look while making up more stories about the gentleman with the small penis who must own the BMW as you take 10 minutes of back and forth and back and forth to finally squeeze your minivan out of the parking space and back into downtown traffic while muttering under your breath “I’m just a simple housewife from St. Paul.”

 

And you get back on the freeway towards home with ‘Happy Feet’ playing on your DVD system in your minivan and your three year old is in the back singing along while snacking on goldfish, and you cannot help but smile for some of the beautifully absurd things about a simple life.

 

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Breaking News – Girls Pass Gas!

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Conversation from the couch…

Eloise: Ohmygosh Astrid is that your butt I smell.

Astrid: Probably, why?

Eloise: Well that is just gross – I don’t want to smell that – go to the bathroom!

Astrid: Well just stop smelling my gas then!

Eloise: Well just making gas around other people!

Astrid: Well just stop smelling for a few minutes.

Eloise: I can’t help but smell it because I have to breathe!

Astrid: Well just stop breathing!

Eloise: But if I stop breathing I will die!

Astrid: But there won’t be gas!

*********

I’m thrilled to say that I’m a contributor at Scary Mommy – and my “Dear Daughters, Why I Blog” post is live over there today. I’m honored to write for Jill. She’s what I love about blogging.

 

I’m also writing twice a month for EverydayFamily and you can find my articles about tweens over there every other week!

 

I’m also still getting my fashion fix by writing for the amazing Savvy Sassy Moms.

 

If you are visiting here from Scary Mommy – HI! I’ve been blogging here since 2008 while parenting three girls and drinking red wine. Not necessarily in that order.

 

Some of my most popular posts are:

Ode to a Minivan

Shades of Gray

5 Reasons why you should attend your class reunion

In the Interest of Community

Voices in my Head

 

Thank you!

 

 

 

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This is Childhood – Three

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We are continuing the This Is Childhood series today with three.

I have one of those right now. A three year old. Three is hard. But three is beautiful. And three is truly one of the most magical ages, so don’t ever wish it away.

 

Nina writes with such heart, honesty and love as she tells us about THREE. Please visit her today and share some love with her. Comment are closed here.

 

Let’s all take some time today to really celebrate the wonder that is Three.

..Please come back each week for our amazing stories as we count up for ‘This Is Childhood’

TWO – Kristen Levithan
THREE – Nina Badzin
FOUR – Galit Breen
FIVE – Allison Slater Tate
SIX – Bethany Meyer
SEVEN – Tracy Morrison(me)
EIGHT – Amanda Magee
NINE – Denise Ullem
TEN – Lindsey Mead

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