Life Cycle of an Art Project

I love my kids, I love their creations, but I don't need every painted piece of construction paper. AmIright?

At the same time, guilt creeps up on me every time I take a freshly painted puppy page to the trashcan. So I wait a while. I let things hang around for a few days. There's a definite life cycle.

I've noticed that this is what happens at our house:

Stage 1: Prominant Display
Project is displayed prominently upon completion. Out there in the open. We are proud.

Stage 2: "I'll just put it here to dry..."

Right. Just to dry. Not...planning...anything.

Stage 3: Impending Doom

Let's be honest about what we're working towards here. The art project starts sweating nervously. Asks for a bandana and a cigarette.

Stage 4: Final Destination

Mission accomplished. Off to snuggle my little artists while their work sleeps with the fishes.

What do you do with little Picasso's paintings?

Little Monet's masterpieces?

(With that we have reached the limits of my knowledge of famous artists

and I bid you good day.)

A Little Mother's Day Round-Up

Y'all, the floodgates of mommy goodness are open.

Here are some of my favorite Mother's Day offerings so far.

Kid President does it again.

(Note to self: Buy Liv a black suit.)

(Meatloaf. Got it.) 

********

My friend Becca sent this one earlier. 

Grace, grace, grace, regardless of the stage.

Grace to you, Mothers.

********

This, from Glennon at Momastary, isn't new. 

But it's a favorite. Worth reading, every time. 

Don't Carpe Diem

********


Here's my favorite paragraph from Ann Voskamp's post:

The deal is — Motherhood isn’t sainthood and we’re all a bunch of sinners here and don’t let anyone tell you any different — pushing something out of your womb doesn’t make you a better woman. Real Womanhood isn’t a function of becoming a great mother, but of being loved by your Great Father. Someone write that on a card with a bouquet of flowers. We all need that.


********

And then there's this. Amanda at Life-Edited does it again.

Posted at A Deeper Story, this poem took my breath away.

Not My Work of Art

Happy Mother's Day, 
from this prodigal parent.

 

If you have to ask, you can't afford it.

Get ready to be impressed.

So Eliza doesn't take a morning nap anymore, and Liv is at school on Tuesdays and Thursdays. I've spent some time trying to figure out how to make good use of these mornings where I only have one baby in tow.

Shopping for sport isn't a good idea. Cleaning with an almost 2 year-old is, um, frustrating (plus I don't clean.) I've done some playdates and things that are Eliza-centered and I've loved this sweet time with her. But I still kind of wanted a purpose for at least one of these days. Some direction for these simpler mornings. So I started having people over for breakfast.

Usually it's Thursday. Life-Giving Thursday. Who can I cook breakfast for this week? It's obviously limited to those who can come over on a Thursday morning. So, basically moms who stay home or have Thursday off, or friends with flexible schedules. So, there's a flaw. But so far I've been able to fill up my Thursdays. Until today.

So I decided to tackle a project. Project Teach Myself to Sew.

"It's so easy!" my friends have said.
"YouTube is a GREAT help. That's basically how I learned!" says the woman with her own clothing line.
"I could show you," says my husband.

And yet, the sewing machine my mother-in-law gave me has been gathering dust in the basement since...we moved in.

So. I grabbed it.

I sat down. I found the manual online. I started going step by step. I realized I don't have any thread. Doh.

I decided to take the machine and my kid to a local fabric store. I'd heard the owner is awesome and is happy to show idiots how to work their own machines. Guess what? She is, and she was!

I walked out with white thread and the know-how I needed. "You'll probably need more instruction," she offered. "We do classes here on Tuesdays..." I told her I'd be there.

But you guys, I came home, re-threaded the machine (including winding a BOBBIN), and sewed something!

I texted Duff, revealing the obvious: I'm a natural.
Duff: Is that a bag or a hat?
Me: Pardon?
Me: I'm not sure I understand.
Duff: Hat or bag?
Me: Yes.

I texted Jaci:
Me: Just learned how to operate my sewing machine an hour ago and I'm already turning these things out.
Jaci: Lol, are those snack bags?
(I love her for her optimism.)
Me: If you have to ask you can't afford it.

While clearly this has potential to be my new medium, I intend to go to the class too. You know, so that I can make something more than a three-sided Dopey hat/snack bag.

(But if you want one...I'm not above making another.)

Good parenting is contagious

The girls and I visited my friend Jaci last week. Jaci's daughter, Ruthie, is 3 months younger than Liv. Ruthie can write her name. Liv can sort of spell her name outloud, but she can't write it.

Liv: Mommy, listen! L-O-I-V-A!

Me: Great try! Now go clean your room, Loiva.

I know Ruthie can write her name because Jaci posted this picture on Instagram:

I marveled at Ruthie's manual dexterity, and enrolled Liv in name-writing boot camp. No I didn't. I didn't respond that way at all, because I know that Ruthie didn't ride a unicorn to the chalkboard and write her name in fairy dust.

Ruthie learned to write her name because Jaci worked on it with her. I can work on that with Liv. I should work on that with Liv. (Liv's class is going through the alphabet but she only goes 2 days a week. She's been there for A, C, E, G, and today was I. As in "I am going to have to pick up the slack if I want her to know her letters!") So seeing what they were doing was motivating, in a healthy way.

While we were visiting I noticed that Ruthie can dress herself completely. When we got home, I took the time to really show Liv how to put her shirt on herself. She's dressed herself everyday since, and her smile when she's done? Priceless. It's part pride and part empowerment. Her cheeks almost swallow her eyes.

I'm thankful for the quick glimpse into how my friend is shaping her daughter because it reminded me of some simple ways I can continue to shape mine.

*****

A few weeks ago, I had some unexpected kid-free time with another dear friend. We were talking about her kids (very close in age to both of mine), and she made an off-hand comment about how during their bedtime routine, she asks her daughter if there's anything she'd like to talk about before she goes to sleep.

I was so struck by the brilliance in that, because even though both my friend and I are talking to 3 year-olds, what's being communicated is essentially this:

1. Is there anything weighing on you? Anything you're holding in but you wish you weren't? I'm listening, and you're safe.
2. Family life is crazy sometimes. Did you feel heard today? Is there something important that got skipped over? I will hear you, every day.


At this age, I'm sure most of the answers are silly. Like Liv's "My question is, I have something in my sock." But having this as part of the routine will mean more and more as these kids get older. I love the idea of asking this question every night, and of my kids knowing that they'll be asked.

Good parenting is fun to watch, and it's contagious. What a beautiful testimony to the value of our tribes.

National Press - Babymugging

Some of you might be tired of hearing this.

but.

MY BEBES GOT NATIONAL PRESS COVERAGE!

Back on April 16, I saw a collage on Mommyshorts about Babymugging. I cracked up. I reposted it on Facebook, and planned to try it the next morning.

I ended up getting this shot of Liv, which looked awesome and freaky, and made me giggle so hard.

I posted it, and Ilana of Mommyshorts liked it. My heart skipped a beat.

Later I gave Eliza a ladle and tried to get one of her. After giving me this shot, she might officially be my favorite second daughter.

Later that week, Ilana commented on the picture of Liv, asking if it was okay to use the picture of her on mashable.com and Huffingtonpost.com. Duh. She ended up there, and Eliza ended up on Today.com. TODAY.COM, y'all!

Here's the thing. Growing up, I had this thing about wanting to be on TV, or in the paper, or something. And you know who frequently got covered? My athlete siblings. Turns out, the pale, freckly, mediocre cheerleader just isn't as interesting. It's fine. But it did make me laugh that several years before starting school, both kids broke through that ceiling. Hahaha. Sniff. Sniff-ha. Ha.

For real though, this is just fun. I'm not getting anything out of it other than the joy of seeing my kids in a funny pic on a big website. Try it with your kids! Or spouses. Or dogs. It may not end up getting national press, but it's brighten up your Monday!

***UPDATE*** Also seen on GMA (#9 and 15).

Follow me on Instagram (kjames4) to see more pictures of babies in mugs. 

Just kidding. I think I'm done.

If you want notifications of new pics of babies in mugs, try following on Facebook. 

I'm kidding again. Mostly. 

Bloglovin' has very few pictures of babies in mugs but every time I get a follow, 

an angel gets its wings.

Breadmaker, Breadmaker, Make Me Some Bread

So I started making our bread recently.

It was kind of a culmination of factors, really. I'd recently done a week-long fast of sorts, where I only ate fruits, veggies and legumes. And nuts. Are nuts legumes? I know not. Well, I know peanuts are. I digress.

So for a week, I didn't eat bread (and a lot of other stuff). And I didn't really miss it, which shocked me. So the wheels started turning. Soon after, I stumbled on this post from one of my fav-o-rite bloggers, Jami Nato, where she says this:

also breaking common sense rules is the fact that commercial breads contain l-cysteine which is derived from human hair collected in Chinese barber shops. did you just throw up? ya. this is why you need to make your own bread or buy organic!

I'm sorry, what? I throw up in my mouth a little every time I read that. It seems too sensational to be real, right? So I looked it up, read through several sources, and it appears to be true. Sometimes l-cysteine is also made from duck feathers or hog hair. Human hair, duck feathers, hog hair, they just (and I know this sounds crazy) aren't my thing.

So I had all of that going on (fasting and gagging...no I don't need a carefrontation about my eating habits, but thanks for loving me well). But there was this other thing. And it might sound a little dramatic.

I realized that part of my hesitation with deciding to make our bread was that I worried that it would take too much time. Breadmaking isn't quick or easy, and I wondered what I would do if, horror of all horrors, we ran out of bread before I could make more. I know that sounds silly but my kids eat a lot of sandwiches. And I wasn't sure what I would feed them without two slabs of carb heaven hugging their peanut butter.

So I was worried we wouldn't have bread when we wanted it. And after a few days of careful thought-kneading (I said that), I realized we're not entitled to bread. We're not entitled to the convenience of store bought bread, or store bought anything or even our gastronomic whims and follies. If we run out of bread, guess what? We don't eat bread. And the world keeps turning. And we probably feel better, actually.

This is all part of a bigger shift in thinking I've been going through when it comes to food. The point is, I want to be more thoughtful about what I consume and what I feed my family. So, no longer afraid of a bread shortage, I took to Craigslist, and bought a breadmaker for $30.

Whoa there, sister. Did she just say breadmaker? Isn't that cheating?

No, dear friend, it's not.

First of all, I use the breadmaker to make the dough. It mixes it, and does the first rise. Then I take it out, knead it for a minute, and put it in a loaf pan for the second rise. After that, I bake it. This way, it comes out in a more usable shape than the box of the breadmaker allows.

Secondly, DO YOU MAKE YOUR OWN BREAD? Who's the cheater now?

Just kidding. I got nothin' but love for you, baby.

One thing I love about making our bread is that I get my kids involved. We have a breadmaking song. It goes "A cup-and-a-half of warm milk!" We stomp around singing it together (sort of) while the milk warms. Liv gets the words wrong and Eliza just bounces. When we're at the dough kneading part, I give them a little ball and then I bake it separately. They love contributing!

Anyway. Making our bread has been fun and delicious and relieving. I use Josephine's recipe from Jami's blog every time, but I'm playing with different flour combinations (adding wheat flour, basically). While I don't mill my own flour or churn my own butter, I love knowing what's going into our bread (and our food in general).  It's a baby step towards a more thoughtful lifestyle.

Follow me on Instagram (kjames4) to see more pictures of bread. 

I'm kidding. Mostly you'll see pics of my kids. 

If you want pictures of bread, try following on Facebook. 

I'm kidding again. Mostly. 

Bloglovin' has very few pictures of bread but every time I get a follow, an angel gets its wings.

Start Fresh, Buy New: How and Why We Built Our Home

I've mentioned before that we moved several times growing up. My family lived in 10 houses from when I was born until I left for college, and as an adult, I did my share of renting before getting married to a (strikingly handsome) homeowner.

So I've done a lot of living in someone else's home. But this past December, I took a seat at the signing table for the first time as Duff and I closed on our home.

Before deciding to build, we spent months looking at existing homes. In our case, as we entered our second year of church-planting with two small kids, it made more sense to opt for a home that wouldn't require a lot of time we Duff doesn't have, rather than buying a fixer-upper. And honestly, a pretty serious fixer-upper was all we would have been able to afford in the neighborhood we're committed to church-wise.

To continue, click here.