I have a guest post up at Missy’s blog today. Back before we had a million kids, we were labeled “infertile.” Two years and two miscarriages later, we were pregnant with the twins. It wasn’t nearly as long as some people’s journey, but those labels and those sorrows, they never leave you. I’ve written about our amazing, happy ending before. But for some practicalities on how to help a friend who has a miscarriage, head over to Missy’s.
Thanks for all the shameless plugging, y’all!
Our winner is number 19, Sarah! (Email is on its way.)
Thanks to all of you for five lovely years of Vitafam Verbage. Here’s to many more…
We’ve finished our first unit of school so we’re taking the week off. This gives me a chance to catch up on chores I’ve let slide (i.e. cleaning bathrooms and making granola) and the kids get to play more, but it’s not really much of a vacation for us. I still expect the kids to do their chores, even if they don’t have to do their schoolwork.
I did, however, let them have cookies for breakfast and they didn’t have to do chores until 11 am. I believe that is what is known as “benevolent dictatorship.”
To help motivate them while they swept the dining room, I put on our “dance party” mix.
And, suddenly, it really did feel like we were on vacation.
She Boogies Alone from Lora Fanning on Vimeo.
I have no idea where she got her moves, by the way. Or her rhythm. But I am one lucky “vacationing” Mommy in the presence of her Boogie Genius.
What with all the navel-gazing we did last week, I’m a bit behind on all the normal bloggy fodder. (Thanks for the positive feedback. And make sure you read the comments for more food for thought.) However, I’ve got some prep to do for school tomorrow, so you will have to be happy with this video. And, let me tell you, it makes ME happy.
We have a fountain in the backyard. Willa adores the backyard, but has steered clear of the fountain until this weekend. For some reason, she just never thought to climb into the rocks. But Saturday, she hoisted herself up and over into our mini-waterpark and made herself cozy. And when Willa discovers she can do something, she goes at it whole hog (note the muddy shorts from where she crawled through the mud around the trampoline).
I love her sweet little jabber and her total commitment to splashing. But what really cracks me up is Ellen in the background. Listen all the way to the end and you’ll hear one of those classic moments of parenting that will haunt all of us until we’re dead. And will end any movie shoot in a heartbeat…
Willa Discovers the Fountain from Lora Fanning on Vimeo.
I thought I’d share some links that have lived up in my Firefox tabs a lot lately. Since my little laptop is the hub of The Vitafam, you can learn much about us just by seeing what I’m reading and researching.
Letter of the Week - I’m getting ready to start back to school with the boys, which means lots of planning and scheduling and Excel spread-sheeting is going on around here. Oh, my head. But I nearly cried tears of joy when I ran across this little beauty of a blog. This dear, sweet, precious soul has done all the preschool work for me this year with her letter of the week curriculum. Ten bucks and a printer, plus NO thinking on my part? Sold.
This will take care of a set of workboxes I’m doing for Ellen to have her do with one of the twins while I work with Adam. She tends to think that if Adam is included in something, she should be, too, so I needed to find something else for her to focus on. She’s my first girl to teach and I love the idea that I can give her a worksheet and some crayons and she’ll Stay. In. One. Place. It makes me want to cry more tears of joy…
The Tale of Vaseline Vs. HopeSuds - I may have bragged a time or 80 that I have some of the best neighbors on the planet. One of my neighbors recently put this story on her blog. She’s got three boisterous boys at her house and I can SO RELATE. Anyway, I’ve kept this on my tabs today to make me smile whenever I see it.
Homemade Protein Bars and Baked Apple Steel Cut Oats - I’ve almost always got Tasty Kitchen open somewhere in my browser. My go-to place for recipes. These protein bars are even better with cooked quinoa instead of rolled oats. Taste like rice krispie treats!! And the steel cut oats? My kids didn’t speak for ten minutes because they were so busy stuffing and chewing around all those hearty oats and peanut butter. That, my friends, is recipe perfection.
My Brother Got Engaged - And my sister took pictures. (My sisters were sent along with Noah as “chaperones.” I envision them more as Paprazzi, based on the pictures I’ve seen. I can totally see Grace in the bushes with a telefoto lens going, “Hey, Noah! Can you say that a little louder? I didn’t quite catch that on this here tape recorder!!”) We’re all absolutely over the moon, no matter how old it is making me feel. I couldn’t be prouder of my little brother turned BIG and these pictures make me beam every time I pass them in my browser. And if you’re feeling brave, you can read the first part of their love story, as told by my sister. Uniquely beautiful doesn’t even begin to describe…
How To Cut Apart A Whole Chicken - This is just one of several videos open in my tabs. You all know I have a hate affair with chicken. But I’ve been bravely de-necking them (bare handed!) and roasting them for several years. Since our neighbor gave us his old grill, I thought it would be fun to grill some chicken. Well, fun for Andrew, anyway. I’m going out to dinner with the girls in my culdesac (rubbing it in here, I know).
But before I go, I’ve got to prep dinner for The Masses. Hijinks and gagging? Guaranteed. Blog fodder? Totally expected…
What’s going on up in YOUR tabs this week?
If you’ve been reading this blog for any modicum of time, then you have realized that I did not get the photography gene in the family. And I’ve made no apologies for it. I will continue to subject you to blurry pictures of ducks and feet and whatever else I can capture with my handy iPhone. I’ll probably punish you further with lots of verbage about the pictures. It’s part of my charm.
My sister, who is, frankly, just as charming as me, also has the gift of photography. Any good picture you see on the blog was most definitely taken by her. Because she’s so good, lots of other people let her take their picture, too. And they are even so kind as to pay her for her services. She’s got a new website up that she made all by her little lonesome and I think it looks mighty fine. Y’all should go check it out.
You’ll find lots of familiar people in her portfolio. Lots of pretty people. Because Abbi makes everybody look good. And she’s even been known to erase a chin or three of mine.
Plus, her portfolio is like a Diorama of My Hair History over the past 6 years, so that’s something for me to lose sleep over.
So go forth and say hi! First one to find the pictures of me with that unfortunate bowl cut of ‘05 wins!
Remember how a few weeks ago I mentioned that I was trying to be better about building “fellowship” with my kids? I realized I’d gotten so distracted by the training I’d forgotten to have a relationship with my kids. We’ve quit school for the most part so we can focus on taking a break and just being together. And it’s been working.
But some days, it’s Just Plain Work.
Today was one of those. I took to putting Mentor Annie’s words up all over the house around mid-morning, just to help keep my cool. We had moments of pleasant, moments of happy cuddles and kind words. But then somebody would pee in front of the washing machine and I’d feel my eyes bulging and my palms sweating. Or the boys would plug up the shower drain so they could “swim in it” and I’d feel lots of little implosions going off in my head. I may have screeched a time or two. I prayed for patience and God delivered, but when Andrew cut me loose sometime around 5:30, I grabbed my sweater and hit the door.
I had to get out.
I walked through the neighborhood in the direction of a small pond at the front of our subdivision. Just as the pond came into view, I was greeted by a friendly duck. Our neighbors raised a few ducks that now live at the pond and enjoy a life of ease. I said hello to the duck (I live with Little People, where talking to animals is a normal everyday occurrence) and we began walking together. At first, he followed me. Soon, he pulled up beside me and we walked/waddled along in companionable silence.
I’m sure he was expecting crackers or bread, but he seemed fairly content to keep me company. I thought it would make a cute picture for twitter, so I grabbed my phone and tried to get the camera working. I noticed his beak was getting closer to my feet, so I picked up my pace a bit.
He sped up, too.
And he started craning his neck toward my toes. I broke into a run. So did the duck. (Aside: Do ducks run? What’s the verb for Ran/Waddled?)
Gripping my phone tightly, I tried to shoo him away while backpeddling quickly. My instinct was to throw my phone at him, but my Love of iPhone trumped my need for survival. There was more running, more waddling, and some screeching. (No, the duck didn’t screech, although that would have been cool and made me seem less ridiculous.) Eventually, I got close enough to some trees and managed to wrap my fingers around a small branch. As soon as That Bird saw me bend over, he reversed course.
I waved my stick around and shouted at him a bit more, just to show him who’s boss. But he had turned away and refused to look me in the eye. I’m hoping he was properly ashamed.
Still wielding my stick, I wandered over to the dock and pondered how my feet could have seemed so tasty to him.
I was struck by how quickly the duck retreated as soon as he saw me reach for my “weapon.” We’d been such pals only moments before. At first, it seemed like an apt analogy for all the Needs in my life, nipping at my heels every second. But I was more struck by how friendly we’d felt before and how abruptly it had ended.
A handful of moments flashed through my mind of the last few hours. Moments where I’d screeched. Moments where I might as well have stood in the middle of the room, wielding my switch like a samurai warrior, daring my children to cross me. And the sweet fellowship had been broken.
The duck continued to ignore me for the rest of my stay. Later, as I wandered home, I realized that it would have only taken a few bread crumbs to heal the breach. In the same way, whether my children had broken fellowship with me, or I had blown my top and hurt our relationship, I knew I was the grown-up. It was up to me to make amends.
Our children aren’t really at the age where they know how to take that first step. They’re still learning how to initiate apologies. But I’m the Parent. No matter how they have wronged me, no matter how foolish they’ve been, I am responsible for my own reactions. I am responsible for my relationship with my children. I can be the one to start the apologies.
And I’d like to give them more than bread crumbs.
I’m thinking chocolate will be my Wild Duck Tamer of choice.
I may have mentioned a time or three that my kitchen is possessed. Things don’t rise in my kitchen like they’re supposed to. I’ve had the Bread Whisperer try to help me fix my problem, I’ve had my friend who is a trained chef… We are all bumfuzzled.
And tonight, I offer you further proof.
Our chef buddy came over to spend the evening with us. Usually, he brings carefully crafted culinary delights with him, the likes of which will make me eat vegetables I’ve never dared consume. Like kale. And asparagus. There might have been a leek in there somewhere. All I know is, he makes magical sauces that render just about anything edible.
And then there’s The Cake of Magical Wonders. Once he truly understood the depth of my love for chocolate, and the darker the better, he started showing up on my doorstep with a certain cake. It has very little flour or sugar in it, hence, I can eat the whole thing and it won’t mess with my delicate insulin issues. Hypothetically, of course. Ahem.
Tonight, we ordered take-out, but I thought a little snacky something was in order while we visited. Chef P offered to teach me how to make the Cake of Magical Wonders. He mixed and stirred and finessed around my kitchen. But at some point, something went wrong. The egg whites mixed with cream refused to reach a “semi-solid state.”
We pulled out my powerful mixer, because even the Chef’s “Popeye Arms” were tired of beating the egg whites into submission. And yet, not even my Electrolux could coax proper solidification from that cream. All we got was butter. Chef P dumped the first attempt and reached for the cream. We whipped it up and folded it very sweetly into the delectable chocolate mix on my stove.
And then we waited while it sat in the oven and filled my house with my favorite smell: chocolate.
Chef P went to remove the cake from its prison and, with sadness and consternation, reported a disaster. The Cake of Magical Wonders, the cake he had so faithfully created for me for months, had failed. Not just failed, had concussed right there in my oven.
It took a good fifteen minute discussion to determine the cause of the disaster. We decided that water in the cream kept it from whipping properly, which made us throw the egg whites out, and we should have known those egg whites were important to the overall structure of the cake. Plus, my sugar was sub-par. And my oven hates me.
But maybe that last one isn’t scientifically provable.
You will notice, however, if you look carefully at the picture, that this culinary disaster did not deter me one bit from consuming the would-be-cake. Matter of fact, I ate a lot more after this picture was taken. And I have every reason to believe that either myself or my children will enjoy it for breakfast tomorrow, too.
Because, My house? It’s where good chocolate goes to die. And I’m okay with that.
Just so long as I don’t have to let it rise.
This past weekend was all wrapped up in taking care of the sick (We’re a regular infirmary around here with various and sundry ailments) and making laundry detergent.
Our first order of business was to chop and grate the Cheeky Maiden soap. In the middle of all that, I had to cross the cul de sac to “borrow” some medicine for the nebulizer for Willa. I mentioned that we were grating soap and my neighbor very sweetly humored me and nodded her head and smiled. “Uh-huh.”
I put this picture up on the HopeSuds facebook page later in the day and I believe it clarified what I meant.
We had some serious grating to do. And we had discovered that our little hand-crank grater worked better than the food processor. Even better, we discovered that our kids LOVE the grater.
Ian grated and grated and grated. He’s a very focused, diligent child when he wants to be.
Even Adam got in on the action.
Adam quickly got distracted by his need to touch everything, though. See him in the back, digging around in the grated soap? It makes his sweet little tactile-self happy.
Despite the fact that we had lots of little bodies to help with the grating, we barely made a dent in the pile of soap. We grated enough for what we need for the week. My other neighbor noticed when we opened our door that our house smelled fantastic. Grating eleventy-hundred pounds of soap will do that for a house.
A few days later, our neighbors bestowed on us this Bad Boy:
Shiny, right???
Now we have two graters we can put to work. And since we’ve still got more kids than graters, I’d say we’re set.
Now I just have to teach them to operate the washing machine and my life of leisure can begin…
But I play one on the internet.
My first post for Blissfully Domestic’s Green Living channel is up today. When I got assigned to this column, I laughed out loud. Because while we all know I’m a granola hippie, I wouldn’t exactly call myself “green.”
So, pop over there and watch me “fake it” as a Greenie. Oh, and please ignore Ian’s dirty toes in the picture. I never pretended to be a master of photography. Or an overly hygenic mother…