parented.

Homemade Playdough with Real Mom Vlogs

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So, I’ve never made playdough before.  I’m basically a stay at home mom of two girls who love any sort of sensory play more than anything else.  How can I not have made playdough?  Well, I haven’t, okay?  UNTIL TODAY!  Megan and I had plans to do a different crafty project with the kids, but it didn’t work out.  Luckily, Megan had everything on hand to make playdough, so we did.

Here’s a recipe I found a few places online.  One thing I love about this one is that it doesn’t need to cook or use hot water, so the kids can actually help mix it all up.  Also, like I said, Megan had all these things in her kitchen already.

  • 2 cups flour
  • 1 cup salt
  • 1 cup cold water – bonus if you use hose water like we did
  • 1 Tbs oil (we used fractionated coconut oil)
  • A few drops of essential oils (we used Peace and Calming, and Peace and Calming II)

Directions are pretty easy.

Mix flour and salt.

Add water and oil.

Knead well.  Add more flour or water if needed.

Mix and knead until it comes together and is smooth, like playdough.

Add some Essential Oils.  We picked Peace and Calming II for half the batch, hoping it would turn everything orange, and Peace and Calming, hoping it would turn bluish/green.

As you can see, the colors in the oils didn’t really color the playdough, but the smell certainly came through!  These two three-year-olds played nicely with this playdough for close to an hour.

I think I’ll do this again.  It was easy, quick, and the kids really had fun playing with it.

Megan will post a vlog posted a vlog of the kids playing with the playdough if you want to see more about this whole thing!  Here’s a behind-the-scenes photo of Megan making the vlog.

 

Mom Monday

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Megan has a thing on her vlog that she calls Mom Monday.  Usually it’s with her sister, Hannah, and they talk about motherhood and other random stuff and they do a challenge, but today it was with me!  So…. if you want to watch me be super weird and awkward, watch away!

Let me clarify something here.  My least favorite time of day is the evening, and that just happens to be when Jesse’s home.  In fact, I hate it even more that the worst time of day  is the main time that Jesse gets to spend with the kids.  It bums me out that he misses their sweet mornings and silly afternoons.  At least there are weekends!

Also, Megan just posted her pregnancy and birth story for her newly turned one-year-old, so you should go watch those other videos if you’re into that sort of thing.  I can’t read or hear a birth story without crying (and I’m not a crier).  Good stuff on her channel.

Playgroup Camp-out

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Earlier this month we rented a whole group campsite for our playgroup.  It’s the perfect place for so many small people.  It is a place to run, to get toes wet, to roast things over a fire, to sing songs, to play on pirate ship logs, to stay awake too long, and to make some fun memories.

Two other families ended up joining us for the camping, while two other families camp up for the day.

I have loved watching these kids grow up together.  This fall, a huge number of them are starting kindergarten and that’s sort of unbelievable and really exciting.

 

Playgroup Pumpkin Patch 2016

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This was our 5th Annual Playgroup Pumpkin Patch trip!

Oh my, how we’ve grown!

2012
2012

This year we were back at Northern Lights Christmas Tree Farm, but it didn’t feel the same.  For one thing, they more than doubled their prices, so we ended up not doing the hayride at all.  We were lucky with a warm, non-rainy day.  It was also Henry’s birthday, so we all dressed up and had cupcakes.  It was fun, despite the fact that we didn’t get to do the hayride.

I have already gone on and on about how much I love these people.  Let me just say that I’m so incredibly happy to have them as my tribe and how happy I am to have my girls grow up with these fantastic kids.

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A Day in the Life – October 6, 2016

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8:23 – I want to remember these girls and the cuddles in the mornings.  Now that they share a room, it’s more likely that they will stay in their beds, or at least their room, and chat and play before they come into our room.  We do all, usually, end up in bed together for a few minutes.

8:47 – I want to remember how the girls love to play with new things.  They made this goo the night before at a Science Fair at the university and were really excited to play with it first thing in the morning.

8:56 – I want to remember this view, with the gorgeous yellow birch, the flaming red dogwood, the landscaping growing up and getting bigger.  The junky car that’s been parked across the street for a few months, I’m happy to forget that, if only it would go away.

9:03 – I want to remember how great it feels to wake up to a mostly clean kitchen.  I never want to do it at night, but it’s always worth it in the morning.

9:08 – I want to remember these autumn breakfasts.  Oatmeal with frozen blueberries for them, tea with orange oil for me.

9:14 – I want to remember how Harriet says “hot cococo” for hot chocolate.   I don’t want to remember how she threw a huge fit because I gave it to her in the wrong cup – I’ll just choose to remember that she eventually accepted the cococo in the Santa mug (the one she usually wants).

9:25 – I want to remember that this was not a normal day for us.  My To Do List isn’t usually a bunch of chores around the house.  We usually actually leave the house.  I don’t usually spend the entire day cleaning the house.  I do want to remember how good it feels to clean up our messes and be able to have such a wonderful home to take care of.  I also want to remember how using the essential oils to clean the house makes it all so much more fun.

9:48 – I want to remember how the girls are actually eager to help me these days.  Harriet loves to help me cook dinner.  Alma likes to help with the dishes, dusting, and sweeping.  I’m working on giving them daily and weekly chores.

9:52 – I want to remember these eggs and these chickens.  I love that my chores include getting eggs, taking out food scraps, and giving them water.

10:07 – I want to remember the corner of our kitchen where things build up.  Art projects from school, mail that needs attention, empty shoe boxes.  These are the things that show our busy existence.  I especially love when this corner of our kitchen gets sorted and put where it all goes.  That was my job this day.

10:12 – I want to remember how these girls play together.  They use their imaginations and really work well together.  They used these boxes as houses, horse stalls, tunnels, who knows what else.  I also want to remember Harriet’s love for her new boots and her tutu.

10:25 – I want to remember the imaginations in these girls.  They had a full conversation between these two candlesticks.

10:31 – I want to remember these candlelit meals and snacks.  Candles, while eating, are pure magic.

10:49 – I want to remember the love and care that goes into keeping a house.  These wood floors shine thanks to me and my care for them.  And essential oils.

11:56 – I want to remember these plates and the little hands that made them.  I want to remember these peanut butter sandwiches – honey for Harriet, homemade strawberry jam for me and Alma.

12:59 – I want to remember all the sewing.  I haven’t sewn in a couple months, so it feels great to get back to it.  I finished Alma’s witch dress, fixed my sweater, and got started on Harriet’s much needed big bed quilt.  I love giving my girls quilts so they can always be wrapped up in my love – and a tangible representation of that love.

2:03 – I want to remember how much I love Christmas and how much I love making good things for our family.  These blend perfectly when I use Christmas Spirit oil (Orange, Cinnamon, Spruce) in my homemade hand soap.

3:13 – I want to remember how Harriet is the queen of the pout.  She will sit down and pout, or just stand in the middle of the room and pout.  Here, Alma is her horse who ran away.  The pout went away once the horse came back.

3:20 – I want to remember these colors and snacks.  Pink and honey for Harriet.  Blue and jam for Alma.

3:52 – I want to remember these slow, cloudy days when I don’t get around to taking my shower until well into the afternoon.  And my old Cal Young tie dye t-shirt that I use for my hair after my showers.

4:15 – I want to remember these days of forts, and make believe, and reading corners.

5:31 – I want to remember how our friends came over, bringing us a fake Christmas gift for an upcoming music video, and how it was fun to wish them Merry Christmas in October.  I also want to remember how they all came inside and hung around for a little bit.  Surprise guests and good conversations fill my bucket in a big way.  Even if I forget to take any photos.  Especially when I forget to take any photos.

6:11 – I want to remember this season and the comfort food that it brings.  This was a baked potato bar, using lots of things we happened to have on hand.

6:18 – I want to remember “Come Lord Jesus, be our guest; let this food to us be blessed. Amen,” and how Alma and Harriet say “Come Lord Jesus, be our guest; let this family to us be blessed. Allmen.”

6:49 – I want to remember the chaos that falls at bedtime.  It is a constant battle to get them going in the right direction to get their teeth brushed, jammies on, and everything else that needs to be done when there are so many other things that they’d rather be doing.

7:03 – I want to remember the calm that settles when we’re all in our bed, reading a story before they head to their own beds.  A few final cuddles and they race to their room.

7:04 – I want to remember how the girls need just a little bit more chaos before they can settle into their beds and eventually fall asleep.

I want to remember the time that Jesse and I get after the kids are in bed.  We watch shows, get stuff done, clean up a little, read books, and eventually fall asleep ourselves.

Other Days In The Life:
May 12, 2015
September 9, 2015
November 11, 2015
January 3, 2016

Our Third First Day of School

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Today was different than other first days.  The girls were excited.  Our time at home was relaxed and slow.  We got out of the house a few minutes later than we’d wanted.  We showed up to a very full parking lot.  We got some rushed photos near the school sign.  We went into Alma’s classroom, where the circle time had already started.  I told her to go find her name on the floor without a hug or a kiss or anything.  She sat by her teacher and got to be the first calendar helper.  We waved and exchanged some excited, nervous smiles.  We took a grumpy Harriet out to the playground, where her class begins their day.  We dropped off bike helmets and extra clothes.  We showed Harriet how she can still look in Alma’s window to wave to her.  Then we left.  On our way down the hallway, we could see Harriet, peeking in at Alma, no longer grumpy.  We walked back to campus together.  Now I am sitting at a table in near silence, enjoying the solitude, looking forward to nine whole months of time that I know the kids are being enriched, socialized, educated, and loved.  And looking forward to nine whole months of time that I spend by myself, thinking, planning, writing, reading, walking, or with teenagers, working, teaching, talking, learning.  Man do I love the first day of school.

 

Forest Fairies

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Sometimes, when you go camping in the forest, the fairies find you.  I mean, this probably usually happens, but sometimes you see the evidence.

During our camping trip, the girls found beaded necklaces hanging in a tree by the fairy log.  As Alma put it, “This is AMAZING!”

Alma and Harriet wrote them a thank you note and let them know about our fairy door.  Lately Alma’s been pretty sad that the fairies have never visited us in the door.  I suggested that maybe the fairies just didn’t know about the door.  Alma had me write our address and that they should fly safely since it’s a long trip from Wind River.

During our trip, Alma lost her necklace in the rocks.  Luckily when we got home, the fairies had been there.  They left a note thanking Alma and Harriet for telling them about the fairy door and even returned Alma’s lost necklace.

There’s always time for a little bit of magic, right?

Parenting is Not for the Faint of Heart

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There is nothing worse than seeing your child’s blood on the outside of their body.  If there is one truth about blood, it’s that it belongs on the inside.  But, sometimes thing happen that destroy that truth.

This weekend, while camping, it was a rock that destroyed that truth.  A small rock in the middle of a path, directly in front of another rock that stuck out of the ground just far enough to trip my oldest daughter.

All the kids were running laps on a path that was alongside our campsite.  They ran and ran and ran.  Then one of them fell and they all stopped.  I don’t remember getting to Alma, but I do remember the blood.  It was already pouring down her sobbing face.  I scooped her up, said, “JESSE.” and don’t remember getting down to our picnic table.

I do remember exactly what went through my head:

  • Don’t overreact.
  • Where is a hospital?
  • Head wounds bleed a lot.  It’s not necessarily a big deal.
  • Don’t overreact.
  • Head wounds bleed a lot.  It’s not necessarily a big deal.
  • Head wounds bleed a lot.  It’s not necessarily a big deal.
  • Head wounds bleed a lot.  It’s not necessarily a big deal.
  • Head wounds bleed a lot.  It’s not necessarily a big deal.
  • Don’t overreact.

Everyone rushed to help.  Devon got the ice.  Heather got the band-aids and wipes.  Jesse, somehow, miraculously had a pocket full of paper towels.  Antonio and Drew got the lollipop.  Harriet got Sarah Bear.

Thankfully the bleeding stopped pretty quickly, and we were able to see that it was more of a puncture wound than a cut.  It clearly didn’t need stitches, though, in my opinion, it looked crazy how deep the wound went.

I also remember exactly the things that Alma said as I held her in my arms, bleeding:

  • We never should have come camping!
  • I don’t want a lollipop!
  • My sister is the best sister in the whole world.
  • I want to go see where I fell.

The rest of the evening was spent sitting in laps and getting extra cuddles.  I watched Alma carefully for signs of concussion, even though I had no idea what the signs of concussion were.  I only cried once, and not where Alma could see me.

We stayed two more nights and Alma bounced right back.  The bump has gone down and the cut is healing nicely.  The only wound that remains is the piece of my heart that broke along with the skin on Alma’s forehead.  But that’s the thing about parenting, and that certainly won’t be the last bit of my heart that will feel my daughters’ pain.

Family Camping Weekend 2016

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This year our Family Weekend consisted of 3 nights in tents, countless s’mores, a perfect river, campfires, fairy houses, one head injury, games, biographies by Grams, 10 kids under 10, 10 adults over 30, a surprisingly pleasant vault toilet, one Trump pinata, a beautiful forest, nice weather, fun, and, of course, family.

The kids spent so much time moving rocks and sticks around in this area.  They worked so well together building fairy houses and houses for all of the action figures. 

The Wind River was perfect for us.  We had a great beach right next to our campsite, with lots of big rocks in the shallow, warm river. We all worked together to reroute the river to create waterfalls and a wading pool for the little ones.

We spent lots of time cooking, eating, talking, and singing around the campfire.

One of the highlights was the pinata.  Each family was asked to bring some sort of entertainment.

Of course, the kids had a wonderful time with their cousins.

And I always love when I get to spend so much time with this handsome man.

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Rape Fallacies

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Rape Fallacy #1: Alcohol causes rape.

False.  Obviously.  Here’s my anecdotal evidence.  I have been drunk.  I have been around drunk men whilst being drunk.  I have never been raped.  I understand that this is untrue for many people, but this is my story.

We cannot blame alcohol for rape.  We just can’t do it.  Sure, sometimes people make horrible, terrible, life-changing decisions when they are drunk, that is true.  Lately, the conversation has been taking things to the extreme.  It feels like this is what I’m reading in the media:  Men can’t control themselves when they are drunk.  Men will rape and assault women when they are drunk.  Men can’t be held responsible for things they do when they’re drunk because they’re drunk.  What?

If I were a man, I would be outraged by this notion.  I would be angry and fighting the media on this.  Do we really believe that men are so weak and powerless that they can’t control themselves at all?  What kind of a message is this sending to our children?  To our sons, we’re saying two things – 1. don’t ever drink because if you do, you’ll probably rape someone. 2. it’s okay if you rape someone, just be sure you’re drunk when you do it.

The idea that this is just something that everyone does at parties isn’t a defense.  It’s an excuse, and a horrible one.  And it’s entirely untrue.  I know that this behavior is pervasive, but I refuse to believe that every single man has assaulted a woman, and that every single boy will grow up to assault a woman.  We can’t teach our children that this is the case.  We have to teach our children that they can be better than this, and that they should expect better than this.

Rape Fallacy #2:  Alcohol invites people to rape you.

Do I really even need to write about this?  It is so obviously untrue and unfair and absurd.  When a woman is so drunk that she can’t agree enthusiastically to having sex, the people in her company refrain from having sex with her.  Period.  End of discussion.

In fact, nothing invites rape.  Nothing at all.  There is no such thing as non-consentual sex because, that, by definition, is rape.  If someone is inviting sexual contact, then it is just sex.  We need to erase the terms ‘consensual sex’ and ‘non-consentual sex’ from our vocabularies and replace them with the terms ‘sex’ and ‘rape’ because that more accurately describes what it means to invite sex and to be assaulted.

Rape Fallacy #3:  Kids are too young to hear about consent.

No, I am not telling my 2 and 4 year olds about what’s in the news and all over my Facebook feed.  They don’t need to hear about that.  It won’t help them.

Yes, I am teaching them about consent and good choices.  Since birth, we have been teaching our girls about consent.  When I am playing with my kids and tickling them, the moment they say “no” or “stop,”  I stop.  When my kids are playing together and one of them says “no” or “stop,” I make sure that the other kid stops.  If they are doing something to me that I don’t like, even if it’s just poking my arm, or grabbing my belly, or climbing into my lap at a bad time, and I ask them to stop, I say, “This is my body and I don’t like what you’re doing to it.  You need to stop.  You need to respect my body.”  I use the word consent.  I use the word respect.  I am clear and firm.  I tell them to respect each other’s bodies, and to respect my body, and to respect their own body.

I have friends who have sons who are doing them same thing, and I appreciate it more than I can even express.  I know little boys who know the word consent and understand what it means.

If we wait to teach our kids about consent until puberty, or high school, or when we drop them off at college, it will be too late.  It has to be something that is ingrained in them from birth.  It has to be second nature.  For both boys and girls.

Rape Fallacy #4:  Privilege has nothing to do with this.

If this rapist were black, or Latino, or anything other than white, he would be spending much more time in prison.  We wouldn’t have seen his smiling, successful photos all over the internet – we would have seen his mugshot within hours of his arrest, or other photos of him that represent him as a ‘thug’ or some other derogatory term.  The conversations would be different – the media wouldn’t even care what his friends and family had to say about him, the media would be digging up dirt, not presenting excuses.

If this rapist wasn’t wealthy, his lawyers would have presented the evidence (actual evidence) that would have told a very different story than the one that was presented.  If he, and the judge, hadn’t both been Stanford students, the punishment would have been different.  If the rapist hadn’t been a golden boy with a bright future, the judge wouldn’t have been as worried about ruining that future.

Do I even need to say anything about male privilege?  The whole rape culture is built on and sustained by male privilege.

 

Truth: I refuse to raise my daughters in a world where their physical and emotional wellbeing can easily be thrown away – literally and figuratively – behind a dumpster.  

Let’s change it.