Merry Christmas

I hope everyone is having a lovely holiday. We're still in lounging around in pyjamas mode, the kids playing with their toys while I try to coax a cappuccino out of mine. It was a zoo here for a couple of days, but a wonderful one, and Hubs cleaned the house yesterday while I lounged on the sofa watching 'Up' with the kids. What more could I ask for?



I love kiddos in matching jammies.

The presents were a success. Hubs built the train table and he did such a good job, I was afraid to paint it...but I think it turned out pretty well in the end.

The kids and I made a buche de noel with meringue mushrooms for Christmas dessert. I made one last year, but I didn't know what a jelly-roll pan was, so I guessed....and I guessed wrong. This year's attempt was much more successful.

I'm looking forward to a few more days of family fun, the Olympic Torch is passing near us on Tuesday, so we're going to go see that, and if the weather co-operates we'll do some tobogganing and skating. Other than that we've no plans beyond hanging out by the fire.

Happy New Year!

Cookies for Santa

Okay, I know it's a little late in the game to be suggesting a craft project, but this turned out so well that I just had to share it. I had all the supplies I needed when the inspiration struck me, but even if you have to go out and buy the glass plate, it's an easy project and your kids will love it. You'll love it. Santa will love it.



Supplies - clear glass plate
- acrylic paint
- acrylic gloss medium (this is your glue and sealer, any art store should stock it, though you could probably thin out some white school glue and use that....try 3 parts glue to 1 part water...both will go on cloudy but dry clear.)
- colourful pages ripped from old magazines

Step 1 - cut out your letters and any other decorations from your old magazines. (Most other paper will be too thick.) We made a simple tree, and used a single-hole punch to make perfect circles for the ornaments.

Step 2 - paint the underside of your plate with the gloss medium, and stick on your letters and decorations, so the good side is in the glue. Remember that your writing needs to go backward, so that it will be in the right spot when you flip the plate over. Brush more gloss medium over the back of your letters and decorations.

Step 3 - let it dry

Step 4 - paint the underside of your plate with acrylic paint in the colour of your choice. Go right over your letters and decorations.

Step 5 - let it dry

Step 6 - repeat steps 4 and 5

Step 7 - add a few coats of gloss medium to seal, and you're done! Because all the paint is on the underside of your plate, this is totally foodsafe. It is not, however, waterproof. So wash carefully, the bottom won't take more than a gentle wipe with a damp cloth.

The gloss medium and acrylic paint both dry pretty quickly, so you can complete this in an afternoon. Just let it dry well overnight before setting it down right-side up.

I hope Santa's good to everyone....Merry Christmas!!!



xo Badness

'Tis the Season....

...for the HO-HO-HOUSE TOUR!!!



...to send happy wishes to friends. Thanks Jen, for sending a card that co-ordinates so well with our silver tinsel trees! I love it when a plan comes together.

....to count down the days with anxiety, or impatient glee. Depending of course, on which side of the generation gap you fall.

....for sweet little elves to march in parades.

....and whisper secrets to Santa.



....for sugarplum fairies to welcome you in. I'm loving this addition to my favourite wreath. Genius? Why yes I am!

....to cut down big-ass lopsided trees and dress them up like a drag queen.

...for new stockings, hung by the fire. And just so you know, I'm much better with puffy fabric glitter than I am with MS Paint!

...for jolly old elves. My dad made this one for me for Christmas last year, and from now 'til forever it will be my favourite ornament. You know you love it too.

for pinecones and disco balls and candy-canes.

I love me some disco glitter. What do you want? I was born in 1975....

...for secret workshop projects. Bad asked Santa for a train table for Christmas, but Hubs and I had a few reservations. They're generally ridiculously priced and only sturdy enough to withstand average children. While we will encourage Bad not to jump and dance on it, we do try to live in the real world. Also, we were worried about Santa getting it stuck in the chimney. So Hubs built a tank of a table, and I painstakingly painted the storybook topography that no one will ever see under all the trains. Then I rearranged all the furniture in the living room so there will be somewhere to put this on Christmas Eve.

Merry Christmas everyone, I hope that wherever you are, it's filled with Christmas cheer. Here's last year's post if you want still more...and don't forget to check out all the other stops on this year's tour.

Family Portrait

The Scene: Bad, muttering to himself, while drawing intently at the kitchen table. Me, face in the neck of my shirt, trying not to laugh out loud.

"Hmm...there's Grandma...what does she need? Yes! Hair! (ed. note - in real life the rest of us have hair too.) Hmm...there's Sally (ed. note - that's our dog) what does she need? Booger holes! Yes! Sally always needs booger holes!"





Booger holes indeed. We've all got them, we all need them. And I think it's a pretty good drawing from a boy who only just turned 3. Biased? You bet.

Captain Nudie-butt

That's what the Princess has started calling Bad - and she's chasing him around the house trying to dress him by force. I'm afraid to intervene.

Ring Ring!

Phonecall 1

Hubs: Hello?

Me: I can't find the ground turkey! I think I'm losing my mind!

Hubs: What? (At least he didn't need to ask who was calling)

Me: I thought I took it out of the fridge, but I can't find it!

Hubs: Did you look IN the fridge?

Me: Yes!

Hubs: There's a lot of crap in there....did you look behind the crap?

Me: Yes! I took almost everything out!

Hubs: Did you look in the freezer?

Me: Yes! I thought maybe you put it there...

Hubs: Did you maybe put it in a cupboard or something, when you were looking for something else?

Me: I've looked in all of them! It's not there! It's not on the counter or the table, or in your office....it's disappeared!

Hubs: Well, there's not much I can do from here. We'll find it tomorrow when it starts to stink.

Phonecall 2

Hubs: Hello?

Me: Bad had it. He was taking it for a ride in his dumptruck.

Is it me?

I just got off the phone with Hubs and he's feeling all pissy because I mentioned that Bad went to the Princess's school wearing her tights under his shorts. I thought it was funny, Hubs patently did not. He intimated that I let the boy get away with murder, and when I didn't respond he came out with the "maybe it's my fault for not being involved enough". Whatever. Bad's 2. He wanted to wear shorts. I wanted him to be warm. I said he could wear tights under his shorts, and although I was joking he thought it was a great idea and put some on. I didn't care - and I needed the laugh. So....am I an overly permissive parent? Scarring the boy's psyche for life? Or, heaven forbid, could I possibly be in the right?

Farewell, sweet smile.

She's always been self-conscious about the gap in her teeth, but I loved it, and am I ever going to miss my baby's smile.

Then again, this big girl has a pretty cute grin...and I'm really looking forward to getting to know her.

And then light shone down from the heavens and the angels sang....

So. That last post was a wee bit negative, wasn't it? (Thanks everybody for your supportive and encouraging words!) I wasn't a happy camper, and I let that mood follow me around for a long time. This week, however, I had an allelujah moment. Bad's been on the waiting list for a speech assessment since his 2nd birthday (11 months ago!) and on Monday the clinic called me. They'd had a cancellation for Thursday, and did we want the appointment? YES we did. On Thursday morning I used all my evil mommy powers to trick Bad into wearing matching, season appropriate clothing. (Gotta make a good impression!) We dropped the Princess off at school and headed off to the speech 'doctor'. (Boy loves doctors, go figure.) While we were sitting in their toy-filled wonderland of a waiting room, I spied the following title on their bookshelves:






The title caught my eye, because when I try to explain Bad to people, I always say "his spirit is just too big for his little body to control." And the subtitle on the book? A Guide for Parents Whose Child Is More Intense, Sensitive, Perceptive, Persistent, and Energetic - MORE. That's what Bad is! He's MORE. I plucked it down and started reading, and wow. I managed to read the introduction, and skim through some of the chapters before being called into our appointment, and just that little bit has helped me reframe his behaviour and deal with him more effectively. I am going out to buy a copy today.

And his appointment? He's got a lateral lisp and some articulation issues, but he scored in the 98th percentile for his language skills. The speech pathologist couldn't believe how well he did (the test she used is for 3-6 year olds). He's going to start articulation therapy next week, and as were leaving she said, "Karen (the therapist he'll be working with) is just going to eat him up." I've always known he was awesome, but I'll admit that the preschool incident really shook me up, and having a stranger recognize his charm and potential really helped me shake off the blues. I'm should be back to my regularly scheduled crazy in no time.

Ugh.

On Tuesday I posted "Happy happy me!" on my Facebook page. I hate to follow that up with "I'm not getting back out of bed until July" so I guess I'll bitch and moan here instead. Bad got kicked out of nursery school. I'm miserable.

Here's the thing. The nursery school is wonderful. It's right across the street, and it's owned and run by a couple that are (were?) our friends. They had a baby at the end of August and we were thrilled for them. They'd hired a wonderful teacher to cover the maternity leave, but because they live above the school we knew they'd be around a lot, and it really put our minds at ease.

We're idiots that way.

Bad's first day was great. They were amazed at his colouring - hey, I'm his mom, he comes by his talent naturally! Ha! They were all, "He did GREAT! We have no worries about him." But then it started to go downhill. He started crying for me, and they had a hard time engaging him. The thing was, as soon as I picked him up he was cheerful, and he'd talk happily about school and his friends. When the Princess was having a hard time at her first daycare, that distress carried over into her behaviour and disposition in the evenings and weekends. With Bad there was none of that, I wasn't really worried about him, because when he was with me he was his usual happy self.

Then one day they called me to pick him up. At 10:00. After barely 45 minutes of school. We brainstormed ideas. (Well, I brainstormed ideas and typed them up into a very polite letter.) We switched him from full days to half days to help him transition. And then. Yesterday. I dropped Bad off in his class and as I was leaving, one of the couple, let's call him Dick, pulled me into the kitchen and said, and I quote, "This is it. If he doesn't snap out of this after Friday that's it. We can not tolerate him any more." Excuse me?

You can't tolerate my child? I'm not saying he's perfect - his nickname isn't Bad for no reason....he's stubborn and willful and wild, but he's also smart and funny and talented and affectionate and wonderful. And it's not like he was hitting or biting the other children - he was crying for his mommy. He's TWO.

So. I've been crying for 36 hours. I'm angry and sad and my feelings are hurt. I'm defensive and confused. And really? There's nothing I can do. I can't rant and rave at these people, they live right across the street and I have to pass their house twice a day taking the Princess to school. Unless I take a ridiculously long detour, I pass their house going to the grocery store, the coffee shop, and the post office. Plus - I like them. I get that they're tired and sleep-deprived with a newborn, and I'm sure I'd get sick of listening to someone's child cry all day too - but here's the thing. I don't run a NURSERY SCHOOL. I don't get paid to do that. They do.

And make no mistake. They are the ones that failed Bad - not the other way around. And they are the ones that will ultimately lose out. But in the meantime? This is crappy, and I kind of hope their baby is colicky and cries for the next 3 months straight.

Underwear.

He's not completely there, but wow does he want to be.

Will the Bathroom Humour never end?

Gah! It's been 2 months since I've posted. Life has been crazy, happy, sad, full. I don't know if I'll ever catch up, but if anyone is still interested in our adventures, my 2-year old has an imaginary friend named POOP. Fifty times a day I have to listen to a story that begins, "My best friend POOP...." and ends with him slapping his forehead with the heel of his hand and laughing like he's just told the best joke EVER. Hubs laughs right along, but then he's still telling the same jokes and using the same lines as when we met 12 years ago. I'm doomed.

Garbage Picker

Our municipality is having a 'large item pick-up' this week, and in preparation every third house has placed piles of old appliances, furniture, etc., by their curb. I know that we live in an age of consumerism, that we're excited by the new and the shiny, but I am appalled to see what people are just throwing out. If I were having a baby, I could easily have outfitted myself with a stroller, high chair, crib, change table, bouncy seats and ride-on toys yesterday. All in good condition, and barely needing a wipe down. If I were furnishing a house I could have picked up antique wood dressers, sofas, chairs, tables....obviously some were things were junk, but a lot of it just needed a lick of paint or a steam-clean. I thought we were having a recession, people?

I drove past all of these things, and then I saw a flash of pink metal. A bike. The girlie needs a new bike. I stopped and got out. The bike was too small, but right beside it there was a wagon. We've almost completely abandoned the stroller, but we've thought that a wagon would be great on day trips to the zoo and such; I just haven't wanted to spend the money. The wagon was in great shape except for one broken wheel. But it was a Little Tikes, and their phone number was right there! Surely I could just order a new one. I stuffed the wagon in my trunk, and took off home, eager to consult the oracle Google.

Let's just say this. Little Tikes can bite me. I won't be purchasing any more of their products if I can help it. They do have a parts department, but it's a joke. They don't want you to fix their products...they want you to dump the massive plastic carcasses in a landfill and buy a new one. I was so disappointed, but Bad was convinced that even if Mommy had failed him, Daddy could fix it. Daddy can fix anything. I told Hubs all about my experiences with the Little Tikes website and "help" line over dinner. "There were a couple other wagons around with missing parts, but they weren't the same kind....I can't believe that you can't even order a wheel from these people!" I lamented.

"Go get the other wagons. The kids and I will meet you in the backyard."

So I went back out garbage picking and my resourceful husband built us a Frankenstein wagon with a Little Tikes body and Step 2 front wheels. I hosed it off and gave it a quick scrub and the kids hauled it to the front for a test drive. It works great, and as Hubs and I sat on the front steps watching our little ones running and laughing, giving each other rides up and down the street, I counted another one of my blessings. I have a talented husband who can fix anything, and he loves me for being a cheap-ass garbage picker. Does it get any better than that?

I'm in love with my boy....

How could I not be? Here are just a few of the giggles he's given me this week.

*****

Bad: "GRRrrrrr....GRRrrrrr"
Me: "What's wrong baby?"
Bad: "My superpowers make me mad!"

*****

Bad (picking up a naked doll and dancing her across the windowsill) "Oh hi Barbie! I have boobies too!"

*****

At breakfast the other day, after being admonished to not call everyone 'poopy-heads'

Bad: Poop on potty, Mommy.
Me: That's right.
Bad: And poop on toilet. Never poop on girls.

I think that's advice everyone should live by.

More Happy

It's been such a busy week that I'm almost glad it's over. It was pretty wonderful though. Ballet is finished for the year, and the Princess' recital was very sweet. My MIL came with us, and spent the night, and I managed to make homemade pizza and cupcakes for dinner since her birthday was the next day. (I also had to change sheets, wash the floor, and pick up wine - she doesn't drink, but Hubs and I find her hard to take without alcohol.)

Also the next day was the Princess' class trip to Puck's Farm. I dropped Bad off for an extra day at the sitter so that I could go along. Farms aren't really my thing, (My dad constantly shakes his head at my squeamish, girlie ways. "I can't believe you grew up on a farm!" he moans) but I'm glad I went.



The Princess rides a pony!



The farm I grew up on didn't have kiddie rides!



The Princess milks a cow! Guess which mommy DIDN'T want a turn. After years of nursing I just felt too much empathy for poor Bessie.

The best bit was that the Princess wanted me with her. She walked beside me and held my hand. She made sure to sit with me for lunch. Some of the other kids were already acting 'too cool' to hang out with their mothers. I'm so glad I made the effort to go on a trip while she still loves me best.

Happy Weekend Everyone!

Sometimes the world sucks.

One day a week I send Bad to a babysitter and I run some errands and do a little filing for Hubs' company. I also make his collections calls. I hate it. I'm pretty friendly and laid back about it (which no doubt makes me less effective) but despite that, today I made a grown man cry. The economy sucks, and a lot of Hubs' customers have been especially hard hit. This was a good guy who wants to pay his bills on time, but he can't pay his bills until he has been paid; and everyone seems to be sitting on their money. It's a vicious merry-go-round and I want to get off it.

Birthday

Just when I thought I wasn't going to get any presents, I opened the front door to find a double rainbow.

And it doesn't really matter that my camera isn't up to the task of recording it; because this moment will be forever etched in my memory.

They're too smart for my own good...

Hubs was in Buffalo last night, leaving me to fend for the kiddos alone. After a supremely nutritious dinner of no-name mac & cheese and easter chocolate I took them upstairs for an abbreviated bath. (It was supposed to be a loooonnng bath, during which I would flit in and out of the room while simultaneously cleaning up and doing laundry, but they splashed half the water out of the tub onto the floor and I had a temper tantrum.)

I had heaved Bad's futon mattress down the stairs and set up a big bed in front of the telly so that we could have a cuddly sleepover downstairs, but my monsters were more inclined to use it as a landing pad, jumping repeatedly off the sofa. After admonishing them repeatedly to "just lie down already!" I threatened to make them sleep upstairs in my bed.

"NO MOMMY! NO! We want to have a sleepover!"

"But nobody is being good!" They both immediately fell into bed beside me, and Bad climbed on my chest, looked into my eyes and said, both earnest and straight-faced, "Yes Mommy! YOU is bein' good."

From there the night dissolved into laughter, and tickles, and cuddles, and sleep.

E-mail from my MIL

and I quote:

Sarah, According to today's Toronto Star, women, who have morning sickness during pregnancy have children with higher I.Q Thought you might just want to know that it was worth barfing for. Love Judy

How exactly am I meant to respond?

@$*&%# Murphy!!!!

I had the snow tires taken off my car this week, and yesterday Hubs and I spent a couple of happy hours raking the yard and hauling lawn furniture out of the shed while the kids ran around us, joyously reunited with their bikes and swings.

So you can imagine the string of swear words with which I greeted the day upon peering out the window this morning to see this:

I wonder if I could convince my health insurance to pay for a week in Mexico....I've got a severe case of latitude disease.

April Funnies

In the interests of not posting anything that could lead to my children not speaking to me in later life, I can't tell you the whole story. I hope, however, that you'll be able to infer most of it from the punchline.

Me: "You have private parts too. Where's your private part?"

Bad: (turning around and grabbing it) "My cute butt!"

Is there anything better for the soul than new shoes and a latte?

Good-bye, old friends! Shoe heaven awaits.

I've been wearing the same pair of black flats for the last four years. I wasn't sure about them when I first bought them, but they were the most comfortable shoes I'd ever owned. They saw me through months of aching, swollen feet in my last pregnancy, and despite becoming quite decrepid I haven't been able to replace them.

Until today. I promised the kids a trip to Starbucks after swimming, and on the way we popped into Winners to pick up a birthday present. (E - I hope that A wants a giant blow-up whale for his birthday, because that's what the Princess INSISTED we buy him.)

And there they were. Just waiting for me to take them home and love them.



Hello my darlings, I think we're going to be very happy together.

Die Happy.

The kids and I met our favourite friends to go sugar-shacking yesterday. We ran around in the woods, went on a horse-drawn wagon ride, warmed ourselves by an outdoor fire, ate pancakes and syrup and even learned something new. (Did you know that the native Americans collected sap in a hollowed out log, and dropped red hot rocks in it until it evaporated into syrup?) We caught up with people we love, ate maple syrup lollipops, and bought maple butter. We couldn't buy syrup because Hubs and I have strong syrup prejudices. We'll get there soon.

So, the question this morning was what to have for breakfast.

The answer?

Maple Biscuits. Die happy.

3 cups all-purpose flour
1/4 cup white sugar
1 T baking powder
1/2 tsp salt
3/4 cup chilled unsalted butter (but I regularly use salted, because I regularly have it)
1 cup milk
1 tsp vanilla
1-2 T maple syrup

Preheat oven to 375F. Line a baking sheet with parchment. Mix the flour, sugar, baking powder and salt in a big bowl, and then cut in the butter. Add the milk and vanilla and mix just until coming together. Turn out onto a floured surface and roll out to a 1/2 inch thickness. Fold in half, then roll it out to a 1/2 inch thickness again. Fold in half, then roll to 3/4 inch thick and cut into desired shapes. (I just use a small juice glass to make rounds) Place on your baking sheet and brush the tops lightly with maple syrup. Bake 15-18 minutes until lightly browned.

Cool just enough to handle, and serve with maple butter. Bask in the grateful praise of your family.

Who says romance is dead?

Hubs came downstairs in his robe at 8:05 this morning and swore as we heard the garbage truck trundle past the house.

Him: "Oh Fack. I forgot to take the garbage out."

Me (with a world-weary sigh): "Don't worry. I did it."

Him: "I don't care what they say about you. You're alright." And he kissed my head.

Who needs roses when you've got devotion like that?

It's a bird....it's a plane...

We made superhero masks after dinner tonight.



Bad is cute, but when I saw the eyebrows the Princess added to hers I laughed so hard I almost peed my pants.

It's Super-Groucho-Girl to the rescue!

How much is that doggie in the window?

Do any of you want a dog? Cheap? She's a gentle 8 year old black lab-Shepherd cross with selective listening. She's a maniac, but she's good with kids. Look, I'll pay you to take her.

OK, not really, but I was seriously thinking about it after our drive home from the city on Sunday. The kids were in the backseat, and Sally was behind them in the back. (It's a hatchback, so it's not a trunk...what do you call it?) I stick a laundry basket between the seat back and the roof, so that the dog stays put, which had always worked, but as we went over the rumble strips on the ramp from the 401 onto the 400, (one big highway to another) the dog went berserk. I'm assuming that the noisy grooved pavement is there to wake up sleepy truckers and keep them on the road, but I hate it. Anyway, the dog got scared and went insane and overturned the laws of physics to squeeze herself through a space she certainly didn't fit. She howled and squealed and got stuck halfway through, waking up the Princess when her nails got stuck in my baby girl's hat. Thank God she was wearing that toque, because without it she would have been scalped. So there I was, alone in the car with the kids, on the ramp between two major highways with no where to pull over, a psycho dog on top of my daughter's head, and nothing I could do about it.

By the time I got to the next exit, the dog was sitting happily on the Princess' lap. The Princess was still sobbing loudly, not surprising really, considering the way she'd been woken up and the fact that Sally outweighs her by half, but I was afraid to open the car door on the side of the highway in case the dog bolted and I couldn't hold her. I was mad as hell, but I didn't want to watch her get flattened by a car.

I cooed to the Princess and drove as quickly as I could to the first parking lot I found, which was thankfully attached to a Timmy's, and struggled to lift 80 lbs of madly squirming dog back in the trunk. (Wishing it WAS a trunk!) I tied her leash to the anchor strap of Bad's car seat, giving her no room to maneuver back over the seats (or more than 3 inches in any direction), cuddled the Princess until she was calm, and went through the drive-thru for much needed coffee (for me) and tim-bits (for the Princess). With his usual aplomb, Bad slept through the whole thing. Then I went home and googled kennels, because there is no way I am taking the dog with us on a car trip ever again.

Free advice? If your kids want a pet, spring for a goldfish.

That Mean Old Fairy Came Back....

See those two teeth? I remember the day they came, Easter Monday, 2004. I bemoaned the loss of my baby's gummy grins, but I loved them. I must've taken 50 photos, trying to get a picture of these first beautiful pearly-whites. They're both with the tooth fairy now, in baby-tooth heaven; and my baby's smile is very different than it was here, but it still captures my heart.

How to catch a thief...

The Tooth Fairy is coming tonight....time to set out some traps.

I don't really mind her taking the tooth, but couldn't she leave me my baby?

Pull those heartstrings, boy-child

Bad dumped all the baskets of toys into one big pile this morning. I heard the noise and came stomping into the living-room with the LOOK on my face. But before I could even open my mouth to begin a rant or lecture, he looked up at me with a cheeky grin (MY grin) and said:

"Sell me gypsies?"

What could I do but scoop him up and cover his whole body with tickles and kisses?





You're yummy, bad boy.

I love and covet

these. But we are trying to avoid frivolous purchases, at least until the spring, so I can't have them. I'm showing you the link just in case some of you aren't quite as constrained by greedy governments demanding INCOME TAXES shortly. If I can't have them, someone I love should. (and Jen - don't you think these have Ellie's name written all over them?!)

Cupid made me do it....

All week I've been seeing darling Valentine's crafts all over the internet, and I've mocked them to myself, because it was that or feel guilty about not doing anything with the Princess beyond the requisite class cards. Then, this morning, Cupid hit me with an arrow right in the middle of my jaded black heart. There's no other explanation.

It started when the Princess was playing with a set of paper dolls that some eejit (that would be me) bought her for Christmas. It came with all sorts of supplies for designing your own paper doll clothes, including a set of textured pieces of cardboard. It was these that the Princess came running over with, forcing me to abandon my coffee to peel a crayon, and show her how to do a rubbing over the textures. As she struggled to roll the crayon without crumpling or moving the paper, I decided that a better tool was needed. And that's when my heart gagged and bound my brain.

I got out our enormous box of crayons and while the Princess fished out all the broken specimens, I peeled them. Breaking all my fingernails in the process, I might add. We sorted them by colour into a heart-shaped silicone muffin tin, preheated the oven to 375 F, and picked 3 268 crayon fragments up off the floor. Twice. Thanks Bad.



I boiled the kettle, and made those crayons their very own little bain-marie.



We turned on the oven light to make it easier to peep, and after catching Bad opening the oven for the second time, I took up a guard post in the kitchen. About 20 minutes later we had this:


Pretty!

By the time lunch was finished they were hard again.



I'm such a sucker. But at least they'll be easier to clean up this way.

Oh! And yeah, they work great for the rubbings!

The Prodigal Chair returns!

Remember this? The world's ugliest chair?





It didn't make it home for Christmas, but better late than never. Now if we can just get rid of that carpet.....

The Longest Month

February may technically be the shortest month, but it's so spectacularly crap-tastic that the misery it inflicts on me makes it drag on forever. The days are cold and grey and ugly, and while they linger, so am I.

I've been trying to pull myself out of this funk, to make myself write to you about good things, but really I only want to complain. I want to complain to you that my husband refuses to fold towels the way I've shown him. Complain that no amount of expensive cream or Vaseline will stop my hands and heels from cracking. Complain that I've been putting on weight since Bad was weaned and I don't know how to make it stop.

I'd pushed all these half-written raving blog posts out of my head and started to list my blessings; but then, this morning, the unthinkable happened. We ran out of jam.

Now, I've never been big on jam before; but this summer, on the most beautiful June day, we took the kids to pick strawberries. We bounced along on the wagon ride out to the field, and the berries were tiny and firm, jewel-bright and bursting with forgotten strawberry flavour. Within minutes we'd picked 10 pounds. And if they'd bothered to weigh Bad along with our containers on our way in and out, they may have charged us for a pound or two more.

Strawberries are disgusting frozen, so 10 pounds of berries meant jam. I googled recipes, and then I googled for help understanding the recipes. And then the kids and I sliced berries and boiled them up with nothing but sugar and fresh lemon juice. We bottled it up, and printed some labels.



Just taking the jar out of the fridge made me smile, and the jam itself was amazing. Every time I spread a little on a fresh muffin or scone it took me back to that day. Like a little bit of sunshine for breakfast. Bad wanted to eat it with a spoon. And now it's all gone and I'm kicking myself for giving any away. I blame February.