Walking on Thin Icing

Our first attempt at a gingerbread house was...interesting.  Fun, yes, but...here are a few thoughts for people/organizations/deities that may or may not be informed about the process.

Dear Wilton: Your claims that the Ultimate Gingerbread House Kit has everything you need to create a gingerbread masterpiece is a joke. You clearly didn't factor in two small children *helpers* when packing the candies and portioning out the Royal Icing. Have you never heard the word "sampling?!?" I should sue.

Dear Just Born, Inc.: Thank you for the creation of Mike & Ike candies. You saved the day. No, seriously.

Dear God: Thank You for giving me the foresight to buy the Mike & Ike's for our gingerbread house decoration process. And thank You also for giving me the necessary strength, patience, and utter stupidity sense of humor to take on this endeavor. And for letting my first attempt at Royal Icing not be a flop.

Dear American Board of Pediatric Dentistry:  Just look the other way. Nothing to see here.

Dear Kitchen Floor:  ...I'm sorry.

What we were going for.
(Yeah.  Right.)





What we got.
(No awards will be given for culinary carpentry, but we think it's still pretty awesome.)

 



Semi-Wordless Wednesday

How can you resist this face?!?

Liesl's grocery shopping list

It's Fun to Stay at the....

Semi-Wordless Wednesday

These are the Morning Glories that I lovingly plant from seed every year in memory of my beloved Grandma Bauerle. I purchase the seeds, start the seedlings indoors, tend to the new plants, harden them off, choose specific soil conditions to fit their needs, and transplant them carefully into the planter with a trellis.

Number of blooms to date: 0

These are the Morning Glories that somehow survive the weekly, savage ripping of weeds around my zucchini plants, get absolutely no care or tending, and have no climbing apparatus available to them--except, of course, my zucchini plants.

Number of blooms to date: 4,239

I give up.

It's Never Too Early...

...to start practicing your piano scales.

Not Your Run-of-the-Mill Birthday Party

Today we celebrated my dear friend Colleen's 40th birthday in a new kind of style: She hosted a run/walk/bike 5k at her home. We ran through the streets of Farmington on a pre-designed course that ended at her house.

Tom joined us and biked the route with our girls in tow, so they have technically participated in their first race. (The fact that they were both screaming throughout most of it will be politely ignored.) Afterwards we got to hang out with Colleen and her friends and family, as well as her assertive and fun-loving children, where we had a continental breakfast and, ironically, cake. (Healthy lifestyle or not, what's a birthday party without cake?!?)

Truly one of the neatest birthday parties I have been to! Happy Birthday to Colleen, who is truly "40 and Sporty!"

Liesl was so proud to get her own race bib.

Some of my FAMC peeps showed up as well:

Maria (on the bike), Kristen (in green), and Roxana (in blue)

And that tiny little helmet-clad blue thing on the right...that's Ava.

The girls ready for the starting line. And Tom, who was pretty much along for the ride.

Yuk, yuk, yuk.

The birthday girl (in green) describing the route, which she also marked on the sidewalk in chalk.

I feel pretty. Oh so pretty.

My family enjoying the party and having breakfast. (And cake.)

Mama Knows Breast

When I was a brand-new mother, nursing a tiny infant and trying to balance the newness of motherhood with my own needs, I often watched Food Network while Liesl nursed. I kept telling people that I was watching episodes of "Iron Chef America" while I nursed Baby Liesl so that the food knowledge would seep out of my brain, into the breastmilk, and into Liesl's system very early in life. But I had an ulterior motive: It was just my excuse to watch the show myself and give myself a break while Liesl nursed, and she nursed constantly as a newborn. I'm fairly certain that nobody actually bought the lie.

Little did I know that my story would actually work:

Everyone's a Critic

Picture it:

Becky starts practicing violin.

Ava starts screaming in sheer, utter terror.

Should I take it personally?

More Liesl-isms

I got such a great response to my first post about Liesl's utterances. Based on that, I decided to keep adding to my file of things she's said that need to be remembered.

Please note I am NOT exaggerating any of these.

This is just a reminder to me--and anybody else--that your kids pick up everything, even if you think they're not listening. Read on:

♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥

When Liesl dropped plastic Easter eggs all over the floor, Ava was naturally curious and wanted to investigate. Liesl didn’t want Ava into the eggs on the floor, so she asked me in an exasperated tone: “Mommy, would you handle Ava, please?”

♥ ♥ ♥

In the bathtub—Liesl takes up a washcloth and starts scrubbing her behind:
Mommy: “What are you doing?”
Liesl: “I’m washing my butt.”

♥ ♥ ♥

At the breakfast table. Liesl suddenly lifts her right foot up into her lap, hugs it, and tells it, tenderly, “I love you, foot.” *smooch*
(Yes, she kissed her own foot.)

♥ ♥ ♥

As the girls were eating lunch, and I was preparing mine—which I usually eat after the girls are down for naps, so I can savor the peace and quiet—Liesl asked me:
Liesl: “What are you making, Mommy?”
Mommy: “Cucumber tea sandwiches for my lunch.”
Liesl: “I don’t like cucumber tea sandwiches.”
Mommy: “You’ve never actually had cucumber tea sandwiches.”
Liesl: “Well, I’m a kid, so I have had cucumber tea sandwiches, and I don’t like them.”

(Note from her mother--she's really never had them. That will change soon.)

♥ ♥ ♥

On our way home from Thursday morning Bible study:
Mommy: “We’re going to stop and buy some fruit.”
Liesl: “Oh, good. I like fruit. It makes me poop.”

♥ ♥ ♥

While I was playing with the girls on their new play structure:
Mommy: “I’m going to go down the slide.”
Liesl: “But I thought your butt was too big.”

(Contrary to what these conversations may infer, we really don’t encourage the use of the word “butt” in our house.)

♥ ♥ ♥

When I was rushing the children out the door to an early morning doctor’s appointment, for which I was going to be late:
Mommy, slightly crabby: “Let’s go, girls, hurry up!”
Liesl, excitedly: “Is it time to rock ‘n roll, Mommy?!?”

♥ ♥ ♥

When leaving in the morning for one of my theater rehearsals:
Liesl: “But Mommy, we didn’t practice violin!”
Mommy: “We can’t do it this morning, Liesl, because Mommy has to work. We’ll practice violin tonight.”
Liesl (with thunderous disapproval): “Well, Miss Sharon will not be happy to hear this.”

♥ ♥ ♥

After using the potty in the morning, Liesl pulled her pajama pants up over her bare bottom:
Mommy: “Liesl, don’t you want to put some undies on first?”
Liesl: “Nope. I’m goin’ commando.”

♥ ♥ ♥

Going for a walk in our neighborhood, and passing by the home of friends of ours, who have a little boy Liesl’s age and who is one of her best friends:
Liesl, excitedly: “Are we going to Ethan’s house?”
Mommy: (Seeing no cars in their driveway) “I don’t think Ethan’s home.”
Liesl, deflated: “Oh. Bummer.”

♥ ♥ ♥

When Tom was taking my wilted Mother’s Day bouquet out to the compost bin:
Liesl: “What are you doing with Mommy’s flowers?”
Tom: “I’m composting them, they’re past their prime.”
Liesl (somewhat sadly): “But…summer is still pretty!”

♥ ♥ ♥

While I was sorting and folding clean laundry:
Liesl: “Mommy, you really need a new bra.”

♥ ♥ ♥

While we 3 girls were driving somewhere, and somebody cut me off:
Mommy (kind of sarcastic): “Nice turn signal, you bun-brain.”
Liesl (also sarcastic): “Yeah. Dude. They’re standard in every car.”

Motherhood

Wordless Wednesday...Blueberries, Anyone?

My Training Buddy

Second-hand jogging stroller, passed down from sister: $0

Hand-me-down lion costume/bunting from nephew: $0

Plain 'ole hooded sweatshirt, found at a garage sale: $1

Training for Ava's first race: priceless freakin' hilarious

My Sentiments Exactly

Dear (ha!) Mother Nature:

I would like to take this opportunity to inform you that you are officially pissing me off.

Look, we expect the weather to be somewhat variable in the early spring, but SNOW in APRIL? Snow that lasts for two days, as well? C'mon, don't you think we've suffered enough? It's bad enough that I've already gotten used to throwing the kids in the car with little more than their tennis shoes and sweatshirts on. Now you make me drag the boots, mittens, and hats back out of hiding; force me to let the car seat belts out once again to accommodate for those puffy winter coats; turn those nice spring puddles into icy slush that is guaranteed to make my kids sick. (Again.) Don't you see how much we all appreciated the warmer temperatures, sunny skies, and dryer ground? Don't you see how, the minute you re-create these wet winds and grey skies, my kids got crabbier, the house got smaller, and poor little Ava has that awful rash again, breaking out around her nose and mouth due to her rubbing, runny nose, and your stiff winds? Didn't you see how hopeful we were when our children ran themselves silly in circles on the dry lawn, happily rode their bicycles up and down the clean roads, and admired and exclaimed over the spring flowers that were poking their heads up hopefully through our gardens?

I'm starting to feel like this relationship is unbalanced, Mother Nature. After all, we are committed to making things as easy on you as possible, too. We've been avid recyclers for years and have made "greener" living choices long before it became fashionable to do so. We try to teach our children the wonders you have to offer, and to respect the gifts you have given us. Don't you think that, in return, you could cut us a little slack? We're not asking for miracles, Mother Nature. We don't necessarily need weather in the 70's with perfect sunny skies. (Not that we'd complain about those, though!) All we're asking for is the 50's back, Mother Nature. Just 20 little 'ole degrees, and a break in the grey clouds for more than an hour a week (and if you could manage this by tomorrow morning so we don't have to cancel our outdoor Easter egg hunt, we'd be truly grateful for that consideration.)

We really aren't ready to deal with winter again, Mother Nature, so could you please stop teasing us and do what you know you HAVE to do eventually? Give us our spring back?

Please?!?!??!?!?

...Oh, NO, she didn't!!

For the past few months I have been "collecting" sayings, phrases, and questions that my preschooler has either repeated, or come up with on her own. Once again, I would like to send out a very immature "I told you so" to people who criticized me for teaching Liesl ASL as a baby, fearing that her prowess with sign language would inhibit her speech. Yeah, we're beyond that. Oops...I mean, "YES, we're beyond that." (Explanation of that in a moment.)

DISCLAIMER! Those of you who know me well know that, on occasion, I am prone to exaggeration for dramatic purposes. I promise you, each and every one of these incidents is 100% true.

Read on...

* Liesl took her children's Bible into the grocery store with us. While we were checking out, she told the cashier--who was obviously Jewish--the following story: "This is my Bible. Baby Jesus was born in this Bible. Then He turned into a hippo."

* Mommy: "Liesl, you are not allowed to go downstairs by yourself right now."
Liesl (in a defiant tone): "Well, Mommy, ACTUALLY, I am."

* With our Pastor in our church, after seeing Liesl wearing an MSU sweatshirt:
Pastor: "Yeah, Liesl!"
Liesl: "We say 'YES,' not 'YEAH,' Pastor."

* In the car, after I roused her early from her nap to take her to my teaching job:
Liesl: "I'm tired."
Mommy: "I'm sorry, is it because I woke you early?"
Liesl: "Yes. You're starting to annoy me a little bit."

* At the same teaching gig, a roomful of conservative Christian moms who homeschool their children:
Another Kid (pointing at Ava): "Ooooo...look at the BABY!"
Liesl: "I have a baby in my tummy."

* After a particularly good violin practice session:
Mommy: "You're my little violinist!"
Liesl: "...No, I'm LIESL."

* With our friends Kelly and her children Emma and Jack, at dinner:
Kelly, Emma, and Jack, being Catholic, crossed themselves at prayer time.
Liesl (shouting joyously): "Happy Hanukkah!"

* When her Uncle Robert and future Aunt Karen, both University of Illinois fans:
Robert and Karen: "Liesl, say 'Go Illini'"
Mommy: "No, Liesl, say 'Go State!'"
Robert and Karen: "Go Illini!"
Liesl: "This is making me a little bit upset."

* When Ava was trying to take a toy out of Liesl's hands:
Liesl: "I would say 'no' to you, but I'm not your parent."

* After accidentally knocking a pile of books off of a table:
Liesl: "That was totally my fault."

* When I came home from a particularly good violin lesson:
Mommy: "Liesl, Mommy started learning vibrato today!"
Liesl: "Rock on, Mommy."

* When Ava tore a page out of my favorite cookbook:
Liesl: "You are so busted."

* After accepting a cracker that I offered to her:
Liesl: "Thank you for this delightful cracker."

* Random conversation with me:
Liesl: "After I’m 4, I’ll be big enough."
Mommy: "Big enough for what?"
Liesl: "Big enough to be 4."

* While I was preparing lunch, after sweeping up a mess of delightful cracker crumbs off of the floor, Liesl picked up the broom and proceeded to "help" me finish the sweeping job by scattering the delightful cracker crumbs across the floor:
Mommy: "Liesl, please move out of the way, I'm trying to prepare lunch."
Liesl: "Well, I'm trying to finish my work, but you keep stepping in it."

Music is What Moves Us...

...ALL of us.

This music is from a local world fusion/jazz group called Musique Noire. I "know" the lead violinst, Michelle Ann May, through a very bizzare set of circumstances. She's a neat lady.

The CD is called "Good Hair" and the song Ava is getting all funky with is "Heretic." I really like it.

Kids on a Plane

Welcome to Not Me! Monday! This blog carnival was created by McMama. You can head over to her blog to read what she and everyone else have not been doing this week.
------------------------------

I give up on "Not Me Monday." I have many things I'd like to post for "Not Me Monday," but my Mondays are usually totally swamped with getting back to "normal" after a weekend. Our weekends seem to fill up quickly with family activities, and it's almost a relief to have things back to "normal" on Monday, the day that most people seem to dread. They have normal jobs. I do not.

So I'm just doing a "Not Me" post--any day. Since I had such interesting (I think so, anyway) and funny incidents on our Florida trip, I want to post them now, even though it's already Wednesday...and we went on our trip more than two weeks ago. (Oh, yeah...I'll try to post more pics about our Florida trip soon, hopefully before the girls graduate from college.)

This is not the first time I've flown with a child...but it's the first time I've flown with children (plurality being the key point here) and it was much, much different. First of all, Liesl was 9 months old when we flew to El Paso for my nephews' baptisms. And while it was not a direct flight, it was still immensely simple to fly with one child, and a small one who was taking two naps a day at that (she napped during the majority of ALL FOUR FLIGHTS when we did our El Paso trip. I actually read my book during each of those flights. Dear Lord, I did not know how good I had it.) And while I did not kid myself into thinking that traveling with two children on direct flights (no connections, woo-hoo) would be in any way easy, and while I spent oodles of time preparing activities and diversions in order to avoid getting my entire family's seating arrangements downgraded to the wingtips (read: outside the plane) in mid-flight; I sort of thought we had it handled.

Boy, was I dumb.

So here goes, my "Not Me" incidents:

Between strollers, laptop computers, violins, diaper bags, and other paraphernalia, we did not have seven pieces of carry-on luggage (or eight, if you count Ava) when we approached the TSA checkpoint. And when we got there, I did not jostle my violin case, which had our metronome in the outside storage pocket. And as a result, the metronome did not start to "tick….tick….tick….tick…." as we approached the security lines. Upon raised eyebrows of the TSA officer, I did not fumble nervously with the zipper of the case, jostle the metronome dial in the process, and cause it to speed up: "Tick Tick Tick Tick Tick Tick…" And when I started to get REALLY nervous, I did not hit the dial all the way to the right, thus speeding it up still more: "TICK!TICK!TICK!TICK!TICK!" And the TSA agent closest to us did not reach for his gun.

My husband did not threaten to abandon me due to the above embarrassment.

On the way home, at the Fort Meyers airport, I did not cause the security alarms to go off at the TSA checkpoint due to too many hairpins stuck in my fabulously fashionable (ha) messy bun. I did not subject my baby to being meticulously patted down by a kind, but quite thorough, female TSA agent because I just happened to be carrying her when I walked through the metal detector. My father, who had taken us to the airport and escorted us as far as he could, did not stick around to watch me (and Ava) get frisked in order to find immense humor in this situation.

TSA did not put me on their "most wanted" list after the metronome/hairpin episodes.

Upon arriving to our gate for our return flight, my children were not 2 out of the 25+ very small children--half of whom were screaming--waiting to board the same flight. Noticing the *horrified* looks of all the childless people waiting at the same gate, I did not find their obvious dismay upon discovering who their flightmates were--and how loud they were--VASTLY amusing.

My children were not amongst the whiniest, most obnoxious children on the flight. And if they had been--which they weren't--they did not alternate their strident outbursts with each other to make sure that Tom and I (and, indeed, all other passengers within a 7-row radius) never had a moment's peace during the 2-1/2-hour flight.

The (obviously childless) crotchety old fart elderly gentleman in the row in front of us did not oh-so-subtly (!!!) refer to me as a "Moo" when our LOVELY, DARLING, ANGELIC <*cough* *cough*> children got slightly (!!!!!) out of hand. As a result, I did not even consider encouraging Liesl to kick the back of his uptight wife's seat repeatedly for half an hour, all the while singing, "Helloooooooooooo, everybody, so glad to see you...hellooooooo, everybody, so glad to see yoooooou," a few decibels higher than was really necessary. No way, not me.

Don't get me wrong: The trip was great fun. Florida was wonderful. The flights were, all things considered, handleable (is that even a word?). I mean, nothing's easy with two tiny children, and I have fewer tiny children than many of my friends do. But think of the last flight you had, by yourself or with companions who are chronologically-mature adults: You got to watch out the window undisturbed, if you happened to have a window seat. Nobody was kicking your tray table from the underside, thus launching your Diet Pepsi into the laps of everybody in your row. (You probably weren't tempted to ask the flight attendant for a shot of vodka in said Diet Pepsi.) You didn't have to stand up and make all the passengers in your row stand up too so you could(awkwardly) change a diaper in mid-flight on your seats, because the changing table in the plane's restroom is a joke. Nobody looked at you in disgust when that diaper turned out to be of the very fragrant poopie variety. (Hey, people, suck it up and deal with it: Kids have to poop too, you know.) You actually got to READ the book you packed, and had a rational discussion with your companion--or you chose NOT to have a discussion of any kind--without having topics such as poopies, pretzels inserted in facial orifices, or barf bag puppets come up. (Yes, I realize having "barf bag" and "come up" in the same sentence is a pun. Totally unintended.) You didn't have to quell your flight companion's urgent desire to shriek "HAPPY LANDING!" four hundred and twenty-seven times when the plane touches down. I mean, really.

Now, again: I have fewer children than most of my friends. My friend Colleen flew with her THREE children to LEBANON, for Pete's sake, and loved it and can't wait to go back. Nobody arrested her for cursing in public and she still seems quite calm and sane. Really! I saw her yesterday and her hair--and her kids--are all intact. So why were we so flippin' exhausted from our flights alone? It was chaos, I tell you.

Plane ride humor aside (and it is VERY funny to think about...now), we had a terrific time in Florida. I will post photos shortly, I hope. I would love to go back--preferably when the girls are old enough to haul their own gear (and their own butts) around the airport themselves, but we did have a truly wonderful time.

Wednesday...but not Wordless

I like to post pictures on Wednesdays without cluttering the post with words...but these pictures I took yesterday simply scream for captions.

Since we missed Liesl's regular lesson last week due to our trip to Florida, I took her in to our teacher on Monday morning for a makeup lesson. Of course, I brought Ava along, so Miss Sharon spent a few minutes with Ava as well, playing games on the piano, and playing a few versions of "Twinkle" on the violin for Ava to dance to. (I am loathe to admit that I forgot my camera on Monday.)

I keep a few recent magazines and catalogs on the family room coffee table and thumb through them when I have a (ha!) spare minute or two. Ava decided to follow suit. So she picked up a copy of the most recent catalog from Shar Music, a stringed instrument catalog from a large company that just happens to be local. Given the fact that Ava has had her first "lesson" at the age of 16 months, and sees her sister and her mother practice the violin several times a day--and her father picking up his violin several times a week as well--it's only right to assume she is studying the catalog with plans of future purchases.

"The sky's the limit, right, Mom? After all, you want me to have a good, quality instrument in order to fully develop my musical potential."

"ELECTRIC violins? Um...I don't think that's what Miss Sharon has in mind."

(Never mind that the catalog is upside down.)

"Ah, here we go: page 13, the Guarneri del Gesu Kreisler. Only $4,400.
Yes, that should do it. Order this one for me, will you?"

(That doesn't include a bow, by the way...I guess Mommy and Daddy better get a paper route...or 2, or 3, or 12....)

Me and My Big Embouchure

Many of our friends and family are considerate enough to ask us what kinds of gifts we would prefer for Liesl and Ava. I usually ask that toys or clothes don't have any kind of characters on them, like Disney Princesses, Dora the Explorer (gag), or Barbie. These companies make enough money without my kids being walking advertisements, and having to pay for the privilege of doing so. I also ask that toys do not require batteries, or make any noise--unless the noise is kid-powered. But in the last 6 months, I have informed people that since we are so immersed in musical education for the kids, musical toys are welcomed...and actually preferred. Or were.

Yeah, I'm an idiot. My dear friend Amy, who is also Liesl's godmother, took me up on my little suggestion, and brought Liesl her birthday gift of bathtub flutes by Alex Toys. These nifty little auditory torture devices toys allow a lot of creativity in the bath--the kids can fill the water to different heights to achieve different pitches. Lots of creativity and learning going on in the bathtub, folks. Lots of Excedrin being popped by the bathers, too.

Their saving grace--and the reason I haven't (yet) brutally murdered my best friend of almost 20 years, however good her intentions--is that they are, indeed, confined to the bathtub. (Did I also mention that Tom is primarily in charge of bathtime, so he has to deal with the brunt of the racket music that comes from these lovely instruments?)

Thanks, Amy. The kids really do love them, as shown below. Remember, though, what I warned you about yesterday: Paybacks are a b*tch.