HAIR

I volunteered myself and my mom and sister to run Sage's class "Fun Day Friday" just before Halloween.  We did five or six Halloween science projects with sixty kids.  And did I mention that we dressed up?  Ratted hair and all.  Becca worked her magic on our lovely locks. 

 

Sage decided to be a mad scientist for Halloween, including ratted hair.  We certainly could have used Becca's help with the ratting.   (And the detangling after, for that matter!)

But Eliza is a natural--she woke up with these "rainbow bangs" earlier this week.  I couldn't have gotten them like that if I had been trying!  (She is my only kid to sleep face down into the pillow, and thus graces us with some awesome morning 'do-s.)

 

And after Krista called Christian's lovely locks "old man hair," he met the shears for the first time.  I asked Eliza to take a picture of me cutting his hair, and this she did EXACTLY that. 

The End Result.  (I can't show you the back, because there are sort of two cut lines back there. How does anyone cut straight lines on wiggly babies' heads?  And don't say "with a sucker and a movie" because that was insufficient for us!)

Okay fine--here's one of the back--Christian got a hold of the phone and went charging down the hallway to get away from me.  (Where Lily may or may not have been wearing pants, but definitely had mittens on.  Which pretty much counts as fully dressed in her mind.)

Trick or Treat?

  Someone left me this little treat (or trick?) near the computer today.
 

Mischief Managed

Christian has been so busy lately.  Consider the evidence.

This was so cute, until it made the dishwasher pop out of its little cubbyhole.

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3.  

These curtains will NEVER be white again.

I know, I was dumb to give him an ice cream sandwich in the car.

What a goof.

He kept bobbing for apples long after his sisters lost interest.

We love this kid to death.

My mom is awesome

Have I ever told you how awesome my mom is?
 
Last week Eliza lost her tooth on the way to Grandma's house. 

She worried about whether the tooth fairy would find her in Grandma's basement.  Luckily, the tooth fairy did, and she left three quarters.  (Which was quite a disappointment after the previous tooth's crisp dollar bill.)  By the time we had to leave, the three quarters were MIA.  We left with a crying six year old in tow.

Today I got an email for Eliza from Grandma:


Dear Eliza,

Guess what?  I found your missing quarters.  I was so surprised!

I went to mend some clothes and when I sat at my sewing machine to lift up the pressure foot and put in the fabric, guess what I discovered?  3 neatly stacked quarters under the pressure foot and a broken needle (that had apparently tried to sew through them). 

I never would have thought to look for them there, but there they were!  I put them in your Mom's maid bag for you when you come again.

Love ya, the toothless one!

Grandma

PS--Are you the one who hid the little mouse in the fridge?  Ha!  That was another surprise I discovered after you left! 

A dollar a glass

I decided to take the plunge and recruit some kitchen help.  It happened a few nights ago, after Mark poured himself a big glass of milk that turned out to be spoiled.  Neither of us wanted to try anything from the other gallon in the fridge, so I paid Sage $1 to taste it.  

 

 

She tasted it, reported it safe, and then refunded my dollar.  What a good kid.  

I think it's safe to say that I will be soliciting a lot more kitchen help, now that I've had my eyes opened to the many advantages.  The price is certainly right! 

The kitchen help

Sometimes I'm a lame mom, and I reject my kids' offers to help make dinner in order to reduce messes and preparation time by 600%.  (I did a study once.  It was very scientific.  And above all, very conclusive.  Allowing kids to help in dinner prep is inversely proportional to productivity.)

But every once in a while, I try to spark the fires of learning and experimentation in my kids (like when I feel guilty after reading "I am a Mother" by Jane Clayson Johnson*) and I decide it's time to involve some little fingers.

Yesterday was spaghetti night.  So I recruited our always-willing taste-tester, Lily.  I taught her the timeless trick for knowing when spaghetti noodles are done--toss one on the ceiling and see if it sticks.  Oh, boy.  She was in heaven.  And, oh boy, do my ceilings need to be cleaned now.  We almost had to cook a second batch to make up for all the "tested" pasta.

This afternoon, I broke out leftover spaghetti for lunch, and was heating up bowls when I felt a small thunk on my back.  A cold noodle dropped to the floor beside me, and I turned to see Lily looking sheepishly at me.

I returned to food prep, but it wasn't long (5 seconds) before I felt a slimy, cold spaghetti noodle land on my big toe.

What does Jane Clayson Johnson have to say about that, huh?

I was mentally transported back to the children's section of the library, where I took the girls to redeem their summer reading prizes.  Lily and Eliza both earned sticky hands, which are pretty much their favorite things on earth, along with everything else that costs 1 cent from Oriental Trading.  Lily gave her sticky hand one big twirl, right there in the library, and we never saw it again.  Even though we looked and looked.

I guess I should have checked the librarians' toes.


* I actually DO like this book.  Once I get over a few guilty feelings.  But learning to be appropriately motivated by guilt (or not) is part of motherhood too, right?

Polar bears in the scriptures

Sometimes it's hard to get through daily family scripture time.

Is it just me?

As soon as we pull out the scripture books (illustrated, for heavens sake), Lily (3) almost inevitably reverts to goo-goo gah-gah baby mode, which we've found to be an amazing defense mechanism against hearing anything interesting or spiritual. 

Eliza (5) and Sage (7) love the stories of the scriptures, but they get distracted by pressing issues like who is sitting by mom, who gets to hold the picture, and who sat on which couch cushion last time. 

In short, we're never short on distractions.  To compensate, I have learned to tell scripture stories in an extremely animated voice, complete with pantomiming and impromptu charades.  Anything to try to widen that 10-second window (where the kids are actually paying attention) to 30 or 40 seconds.

Tonight at scripture time I opened our leather-bound illustrated scriptures to the verse the girls had been asked to memorize for church (1 Ne 3:7), and I found myself staring in surprise at the illustration opposite the passage.  It was a depiction of Nephi trying to convince his brothers to obey the Lord's commandment to return to Jerusalem.   And I must say, Nephi was dressed in a most unusual outfit.  I trailed off in my animated telling, one eyebrow raised high, as I briefly considered the artist's choices.

Sage, the most attentive of the girls, noticed the illustration first.  She piped up with a little giggle, "Mom, why is Nephi wearing polar bear pants?" 

As a side note, last night we talked about Shadrach, Meshach and Abednego--and scripture reading doesn't really get more awesome than that story.  But I'm sad to report that the fiery furnace feat didn't hold a candle to the speed with which all three children gathered for a look at the ancient prophet's polar bear pants.

Gospel scholar number two, Eliza, then sniggered, "Yeah! And look at his Santa hat!"

This time it was my turn to crowd in for a peek, since I hadn't even noticed Nephi's choice in headgear.

I wanted to tell my kids that the scriptures are still true even if the illustrations are not, but I didn't trust myself to speak without succumbing to the giggles that were building up.  So I just pursed my lips and nodded slowly, trying to buy time (and composure). And considered Nephi's leather back bace/corset/cummerbund.

But then Sage laid out the clincher.  "And why is he wearing a half-shirt?!?!?!?!"   (If you had heard her question, you would agree that  thne written form would need to be punctuated with at least four sets of ?!'s.)

[insert uncontrolled laughter here]

These are good questions, girls.  Someday the mysteries of heaven will be unfolded.  Like who chose to include this inspiring illustration anyway?  Until then, let's stick with something safe.  Like Balaam and the Talking Donkey (Numbers 22).  Even that seems easier to understand than Nephi's wardrobe choices. 

Q: What do you get when you mix St. Nick, a polar bear, and Project Runway?
A: Nephi, talking to his brothers.
Also, a lightning bolt.  For mocking the illustrated scriptures.

Love note

Dear Husband,
Thank you for the love note you left me the other day.  It was so unexpected, and so heartfelt. 
Love,
your wife

P.S.  When I removed it for safekeeping, it took one layer of Christian's skin with it.