I thought I’d have a little fun tonight, making my own snack packs for the boys’ lunches, using recycled bags I’ve been collecting from my (too) numerous trips to the local bagel shop.  I filled one with cheese crackers, set one aside to fill with popcorn later tonight, and I put cookies in a couple others.

It was just after I wrote “PB = Peanut Butter, or is it Pookie Bear?” on a cookie pack that my nine-year-old suggested that I not make his lunch and drink Mike’s Hard Lime at the same time.

Fourth graders have no sense of humor.

It’s not so much that I mind the headlice – sure all of the laundering, freezing, scorching, treatment-giving, and nit-picking etc. is a royal pain, but I can deal with that.

I don’t really even mind driving the kids to their two different schools to have them checked out by their nurses before being allowed back into class.

I’m even ok with the fact that our little “patient zero” is still too nitty to go back to school today.

What pushes me over the edge is the weather. Flood warnings and wind advisories. Thunder rumbling in the distance. And me, running in and out of schools and drug stores, kid or two in tow, becoming more of a drowned rat with every errand.

Oh, the joy of wet shoes and jeans, and having to change all of our clothes when we walk back in the front door.

I’m taking a coffee break before I have another scalp treatment to give – this time I’m unleashing the pesticides.

After that it’s one more run through the rain with the six-year-old, back to school for yet another head check, on the off chance that he can catch the last few hours of class.

The phrase “not worth the effort” comes to mind, as I sit here, sipping my coffee, in my comfy and dry sweatpants… what’s another day of school missed, anyway?

This topic in blog history:

• Is it me? - September 2008
• Nit wits - January 2010

Yesterday I opened up a box of Peaches & Creme from Elmore-Pisgah.  Twenty-two little balls of totally affordable cotton worsted, in a plethora of pretty colors.  Now, I don’t know about you, but when I am presented a box full of like objects, my first impulse is to sort them.  So there I sat, on the floor, with my big box of yarn, looking for sets of three that were pleasing together.

I was soon joined (grudgingly at first, but enthusiastically before long) by my 6-year-old, who had his own ideas of what colors look good next to each other.  We sat there like that for several minutes – making matches, jumbling them up, re-ordering – when someone suggested bowling.

And thus began an hour-long series of build-them-up and knock-them-down games that were surprisingly enjoyable for both of us.  It actually felt like a real shame when I had to take away three of the balls to start my next dishcloth.

I love that kind of spontaneous fun that erupts from looking at a collection of objects in a non-traditional way.  It’s like the game of Go-Fish that my 9-year-old and I played the other day with a big bowl of my medium-size clay buttons.  “Do you have a button in the Triangles pattern?”  “Nope, go fish!”  Fun.

Before I go, a quick aside: have you heard about the Craft Hope shop at Etsy?  I have a full entry about this nearly ready to post, but in the meantime, I think the shop can speak for itself.  Go have a look!

The littlest member of the family brought home a gift for us this week.  If you recognize that very fine-toothed comb up there, you know of what I speak.

I’ve always thought it was rather sweet how the boys end up sleeping together most nights, sharing blankets, pillows, and stuffed  animals.  And I have never minded it when they wanted to spend the night in my bed while I am away on a trip.  This week, though, I’m singing a slightly different tune, as every. single. soft. thing. those two have touched in the last week needs to be laundered.

I’m tempted to make everyone sleep on the cold, hard, kitchen floor tonight until every nit has been picked.  Blech. My scalp itches just thinking about it.

This whole thing started two days ago with a call from the school nurse.  The day before that it was surprise dental surgery for Neil, which landed him in bed (or on the couch) for most of the day sleeping off the anesthesia, and me in the car picking up medication and playing taxi.

So, yeah, kind of a busy-having, challenging, weird week.  It’s taken me three days just to get a small pile of orders out the door, in between laundry processing, scalp treatments, and drug store runs (and if you’re one of my customers who has experienced a delay, I do apologize)!

On the plus side, I bought a rice cooker online, which arrived here in record time, and gave us the most delicious sticky jasmine rice for supper last night.  Mmmmm.

Ok, well, I just wanted to check in and let you know I was alive.  I owe email to a few of you who were interested in shawl pins, and I will get to it, I promise.  For now, though, I have some laundry-related tasks to attend to.  Oh, joy.

P.S.  Not a fan of bug talk?  You’ll be happy to know I’ve been sitting on a less skin-crawly entry since Tuesday, and I expect to get it posted in the next few days.  Just waiting for one last little bit of information I need to add.

This topic in blog history:

• Drowned Rat - January 2010

I’m not always on the ball teacher-gift-wise, but this year, I managed to get it done with a little help from the kids.  Erin’s coffee cup cozy tutorial is something I’ve been eyeing since she posted it last year, and I finally decided to try it, when I realized that it’s a perfect project for kids and moms to do together.

I don’t normally ask the boys to get involved, to be perfectly honest, because it’s often more trouble than it’s worth.  They are reluctant collaborators.  They do like to make things, but on their own terms, in their own time.  Crafting with Mom usually involves tearing themselves away from whatever screen they are attached to at the moment, and that’s never a popular option.

Still, I asked for their assistance this time, because I want them to be actual participants in the gift-giving process, and not just the messengers of the finished goods.  There were a few groans here and there, but for the most part, they were accepting of their roles as fabric-choosers, button pickers, and fabric cutters.  I traced the pattern onto the fabrics they picked out, they cut out the shapes, and I sewed the whole thing together according to Erin’s instructions.

I learned something unexpected from this little project.  If you know me at all, you know I have a tendency toward the matchy-matchy.  So when I asked the boys to pick out fabrics and a button, it was all I could do to keep from twitching as Eamonn revealed his selections.  The main aqua/gold/green/brown fabric, didn’t have much in common with the pink/green/orange button, and neither of them went with the red checked pattern of the lining fabric.  Oy.  But you know what?  Although I would never have chosen to put those colors and patterns together myself, the resulting cozy is my favorite of the three.  All of that stuff really works together.  The lesson here?  I really ought to be more adventurous with color and think like a six-year-old now and then.

This project used entirely things I had on hand: fabric from my stash, and buttons I made some time ago.  Even the packaging was was scrounged: Sew Mama Sew gift tags I’d printed out last Christmas and hadn’t needed, twine, and small heavy-duty brown bags that at one time carried sandwiches from the bagel shop.  The only brand new components were the coffee shop gift cards I snuck into the bags.

These were fun.  If I didn’t have a million other things to do, I’d make one for myself   Thanks for the pattern, Erin!

This topic in blog history:

• In reverse - September 2008
• I just like playing with them - February 2009
• Buttons can keep your coffee cozy - May 2009

It was just three days ago that I asked Eamonn if he had any loose teeth.  Maybe he was nervous about the idea of losing a tooth?  I’m not sure, but whatever the reason, he resisted my attempt to check his front teeth, or to show him how to check for himself.  I never did get to see if anything was loose, but I assumed it wasn’t.  My older son was 7 1/2 before his first tooth fell out, and I had no reason to believe Eamonn would be any different.

So, you can imagine it was a bit of a surprise last night, when Eamonn opened his mouth to laugh and I saw a little hole where his bottom left front tooth had been.  Somewhere in the last three days, that tooth disappeared, and nobody even noticed!  I suspect it came out in the bagel he had for lunch but there’s no real way to know.

I’ll admit I was momentarily distressed that I wouldn’t be able to keep Eamonn’s first baby tooth socked away in the top drawer of my nightstand, like all of his brother’s baby teeth.  But then I laid eyes on his letter to the Tooth Fairy.  Oh, this is a much better keepsake than the tooth itself.  Old teeth don’t make me giggle quite so much as that letter, which is quintessentially Eamonn: my silly little, growing-up-so-fast, 6 1/2 year-old, tooth-losing, boy.

This topic in blog history:

• Twinkling Toes, Pretty Posies, and Toothless Grins - August 2007

and headed North, up the NY State Thruway, and West, deep into the Catskill Mountains, where we found a quaint little 1830’s farmhouse waiting for our arrival.

I’d been wanting to enjoy the cozy atmosphere of the mountains in the fall for some time, and was more than willing to drive three hours to do it.  Three hours turned to five at the hands of rush hour traffic, the rain, and some bad directions.  Minor annoyances, to be sure, but not enough to dampen our spirits.

No, the place where our enthusiasm was tested was somewhere on Route 23A (or was it 23?), as we were finally feeling closer to our destination.  We were maybe 30 minutes away, thoughts of our impending bucolic weekend dancing in our heads, when we heard sounds from the back seat: a kind of loud burp followed by a splash, followed quickly by another burp-splash, and a third, and a “Mom! Eamonn’s throwing up!” and finally a drenched and smelly 6-year-old beginning to panic about the involuntary mess he’d just made.

That’s not a pretty scene when it occurs on a sunny day in your own neighborhood, but it’s orders of magnitude worse after dark, on a lonely stretch of unfamiliar highway, in the cold rain, while driving a rental car that is not equipped with so much as a box of tissues to aid in the cleanup.

All I can say is that I have never been more happy to have a bag of clean clothes in the trunk, or to be en route to a destination with a washer & dryer.

We’re laughing about it now, but I must say it took a few minutes to find the humor in the situation, and a few days to rid the car of the stink.  Poor Eamonn.  It’s going to be a long time before he orders another strawberry shake…

I chose to illustrate this post not with images from that Friday night (you’re welcome), but instead with photos from our Saturday, where we still dealt with much rain, but we also got to meet some chickens, gather a basket of eggs, drive around the countryside, and stop in at a few book stores.

I enjoyed a quiet morning coffee on the front porch by myself. I started a knitting project twice and ripped it back out as many times.  We lit the old wood-burning stove and felt it warm up the whole house.  We had hot chocolate before bed.

The house was lovely, and I’d have stayed an extra night or two if it was feasible.  Arriving late on Friday, having rain all day Saturday, and leaving early on Sunday made it feel more like a day trip than a weekend getaway.  It was nice, but entirely too short.  Next time?  I’d like a three day weekend, minimum.  And we’ll skip the strawberry shakes en-route, thankyouverymuch!

This topic in blog history:

• Autumnal wanderlust - September 2008

I tell you, the value of an inexpensive tub of cold water on your back patio can not be over-stated.  The mid-afternoon dunking of the feet is a ritual I have sorely missed during the oddball days of this summer.  Not only is it an excellent way to cool off, but it’s also a nice, quiet time to relax and catch up with the kids.

Since I’ve been thinking about a party we’re throwing this coming weekend, I grabbed a few relevant books off the shelves and took them poolside with me:

• Summertime Treats: Recipes and Crafts for the Whole Family by Sara Perry
• Everyday Celebrations: Savoring Food, Family, and Life at Home by Donata Maggipinto

In Summertime Treats, I found a recipe for “mocha madness”, which looked very much like a Frappuccino.  I tried it tonight – pretty good!  Not quite the same as Starbucks, but it’ll do in a pinch, and cost a whole lot less.

Everyday Celebrations is broken down by seasons.  Naturally, I flipped right to the summer section.  Now, the recipes and ideas in this book aren’t particularly practical for a family of picky eaters and kids who don’t care much for organized craft projects, but I think we got our money’s worth out of the title page for the summer chapter.  It read:

summer sensations

shuck corn, pick tomatoes, squeeze lemons, crack lobster tails, make a daisy chain, breathe in the briny scent of the sea, dance in a sun shower, scatter rose petals on your dinner table, sit on the porch, wave sparklers, plant honeysuckle, sip champagne under the stars, lick an ice cream cone, hear the ocean in a shell.

have a summer fling with your senses every sultry day

Well, that sure makes you want to squeeze every last drop of summer living out of this month, doesn’t it?  So I read it aloud to the boys, pausing after each item to ask if we’d done that particular activity yet this season or not.  It didn’t take long before there was a fit of giggling brought on by the fact that we were saying NO to every item.  We got to the end of the list with a pretty lousy score of two out of fourteen, at which point I put on my sternest face and said, “You boys have failed summer! You will be required to repeat the season!”

Well, needless to say, they were all for that idea!

This weekend we are having a party for no good reason other than we feel like having our family together for a nice summer evening.  There will be grandparents, cousins, aunts and uncles, and now there will most definitely be corn-shucking.  And if I can figure out how to make it happen, there will be sparkler-waving, too.

Hooray for summer!

This topic in blog history:

• Oh, August - August 2009
• Grape and Cucumber Salsa - May 2008
• Jersey Fresh for the Summer - May 2009

I hadn’t thought much about the summer weeks we used to spend at my grandparents’ house in the country, until I read Stefani’s post tonight.  And then I couldn’t stop thinking about them.

My mind is aflutter with remembrances of the ice cream sodas my grandfather used to make, and of drinking them on a dark summer night, each of us in our own rocking chair on the screened in front porch.  The house was nestled on the side of a steep hill overlooking the main street into town, and we would watch the cars go by on the street below, drink our sodas and stay up late.  There was a yellow light bulb on the porch.  At least, I think there was.  It seems an odd thing now, but I am fairly sure it existed.  When I think of those nights, they are bathed in yellow light.

And there are crickets chirping, much as there are crickets chirping outside my window right now, at two o’clock in the morning.

I tried to fall asleep an hour ago, but my mind is active with happy thoughts of grandparents and cousins, and three generations playing UNO around a big dining room table.  I’ve had too much caffeine and it’s enabled me to hatch one daft plan after another, with the aim of recreating those special summer family memories for a new generation.  I am sad for my sons that they don’t have their own yellow porch lights and ice cream sodas, and I’m consumed suddenly with a desire to fill their childhoods with large family get-togethers.

Thing is, I don’t need to plan these events right now, at two o’clock in the morning, do I?

No, I really don’t.  And I hope that by writing this down, I have given my mind permission to let it go for the time being, and to settle in for the night, secure in the knowledge that everything I need to remember is written down right here, ready to be revisited at a later time.  Preferably long after the sun has come up.

If I could, I’d illustrate this post with snapshots from my memory.  I see them clear as day, and yet, they’re so utterly impossible to share.

This topic in blog history:

• Opportunities lost - July 2009
• From Grandma’s table to my hips - August 2009
• Generation gap - May 2008

Silly boy.

So, I finally managed to clean up my creative space today <I need a happy dance icon to put right here – woo hoo!> and can you guess what the first thing I made was?

“Cute pajamas” for the boy.

I gently cautioned him that a floral motif such as this might be considered a bit “girly,” but he was fine with that.  I’m glad he’s not hung-up on gender stereotypes yet, because really, he’s got enough boy-ness in him to counteract any feminine vibes that retro floral print might want to give off.  He’s all boy, even when his bottom is bedecked with flowers.

It’s so nice to be able to make your kids happy with a small piece of leftover fabric and less than an hour of your time, don’t you think?

If you would like to attempt your own easy pj bottoms for a small person in your life, all you need is about a half yard of appropriate fabric, a bit of elastic, and a tutorial for making bandana pants (I have used Stefani’s in the past, but at this point I have it commited to memory).  Just remember that, unlike bandana pants, the edges of shorts made with cuts of fabric will be raw, and as such the pant legs will need to be hemmed.

I’m thinking that this same method would work for adult-sized pj shorts, if you start with larger squares of material, but I haven’t tried it myself.  Be sure to let me know if you do!

This topic in blog history:

• Pillowcase party - April 2009
• Splash of color - September 2008
• Leaky pipes and polka dots - March 2008