I am trying to teach myself how to knit, and was near to giving it up as a hopeless cause when Aligirl encouraged me to watch the videos   again. I did, and LOOK!!!!

I  practiced a bit more, then even got it off the needles. My son, the ever practical one, asked me what I was making, and when I told him I was just learning to knit and practicing the technique, he asked again,  "But what is it?"

So I decided what it is, it is a bedspread for the dollhouse bed. He was satisfied with that, and so are the girls!

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I did it again. Dreamed big only to have real life jolt me awake.  My plan (see a post below) of library trips turned into lounging on the couch with my 2 year old watching PBS.  OK, so I was in too much pain to drive anywhere, could I have at least read him some books I have here at home?  No. Baking cookies? HA! We ate all the graham crackers in the house and then I stuck a frozen mac-n-cheese in the oven for dinner.

But my 4 year old played joyfully in his cardboard house for hours, and I know my little one was  totally contented with me being still long enough to hold him through two whole shows.

Which brings me to another  remembrance  about my love for preschoolers. Give them some food and attention, and they think you are the best mom in the world.  Real life is good!

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I have had at least one, and sometimes as many as three,  preschoolers in my house for well over 16 years now.  Despite the fact that they are often sticky or stinky, that they spill things and tear things and make a ton of noise, I like preschoolers. I like teaching them to count, to pedal a trike,  I like reading to them and holding them in my lap. Currently, I have 2 preschool boys. Although I have 9 children like stairsteps, this is the first time in over 10 years that I have had 2 boys in a row. I find myself often reminded of my first 3 children, boys, who filled my first years of mothering with tricycles, Duplos, pushing the swings at the park, trips to the library and adventures in cooking together, with the peaceful break of Mr. Roger's Neighborhood allowing me time to read books I wanted to read. I love having preschoolers in my house. But I have never enjoyed my preschoolers like I did those first 3 years, because the next 13 years I became a working mom. If you don't think home educating makes you a working mom, read this.   I traded trips to the library's story hour for trips alone to grab the books I reserved on-line. I traded pushing swings in the park for field trips. I traded teaching a 2 year old to stir carefully for teaching a preteen how to cook.  I traded getting up in the night to soothe a baby for staying up late talking with a teen.  I traded reading Dr.Suess for grading math. I love parenting my older children, but I find myself missing the simplicity of a house with just preschoolers.  And my reflections made me realize that I don't spend as much time doing preschool-y things as I perhaps should. So today, with the oldest children gone ice skating, and me home with just the youngest ones,  I am going to take them to the library and sit on the ladybug pillows and read and read to them, then stop by the park and play on the swings.  Then I think we will come home and make cookies.  

I love preschoolers, and they grow up so fast. I better get to the park with mine before they grow up and drive off to the skating rink without me.

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I have had this blog for a little while now,  but hardly knew how to use it.  I had a lot of questions, mainly about Etiquette. I mean, what is that whole Friends list about? It would be a great place to organize the blogs I like to read, but  am I brassy in listing people that don't know me as my Friend? And what about leaving comments? I feel really sneaking lurking, but are there special rules for comments?

And then there is MY site.  How do I _____  ? What about privacy and my family?  Am I ready for company at my blog? ( And I still can't get the "About Me" function to work on my profile. It won't save. )

Then comes Blogging Basics from Rocks in My Dryer and Don't Try This at Home.   Thanks, Shannon and Chilihead. This old dog can learn a few new tricks after all.  

Now where is that yarn?

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I can't believe how discouraged I am. What did I expect? Well, obviously, I expected to be able to do this, after all other people do it.   I read the book, I watched the videos. I bought the right tools. Why do I have too many fingers and not enough hands? I have such hopes and dreams, nice relaxing occupation while chatting with friends or performing "Watch this, mommy!" duty, producing heirlooms for my grandchildren-to-be. 

What is wrong with me?  Why can't I knit?  I am afraid to even try to "purl". And you have heard of "a dropped stitch"?  Well, whoever dropped it, I know where it is, on my needle. I started with 30 stitches and now have 31 or 32, depending on if the shredded looking bit is one or two stitches.

So if you dropped your stitches and would like them back, please come on over. And while you are here, HELP ME!!!    

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Relationships

I like this picture. It represents one of the relationships in my home. After a busy day walking around historic Savannah, our large group of fellow homeschoolers was tangled up in the other visitors, all trying to buy candy and ice cream treats in the little shops. As we gathered ourselves in family groups to leave and head back to the rental, we find that Susanna has been left out. She didn't get an ice cream.  Our group is leaving us, and she is near tears. Big brother Daniel, with the super human power of Being Able to Walk Across the Street Without Holding Hands With a Grown-Up, poses the solution. He will go get her an ice cream and then they will catch up to our slow moving group, if we will linger in the back of the group and give him directions by cell phone if we get to far away.  As I turned for the twenty-seventh time to look behind me for them to appear, there they were. My baby girl safely in the hands of my baby boy. (For he will always be my baby, even if he is taller than me.) She has her cone in one hand, her hero in the other. He walks tall and confident, managing to look cool in his sunshades with little sister by his side. A snapshot of their relationship.

Not all the relationships in my house are as obvious as this one with its quirky little sister and early adulthood brother. But the unseen breeze of all these relationships moving and blowing through my house make the atmosphere of my home. And I think of them this time of year, because I begin to think of Christmas trees.

At Christmastime, back when all the children were too little to drive to a store, much less shop alone, we parents would take them to a dollar store to shop for each other. While one parent waited outside, the other would take a few in at a time to shop. It was easy-no need to disappoint a thrilled preschool shopper with the words"that is too expensive". It was hard-excited children plus crowed aisles times 7(then 8 or 9) equals major mall meltdown.   It was a time for forgetting- "How did we end up with 2 for him and none for her?"  It was a time for learning-the second year I came with a "who-has-shopped-for-whom" list. But what the best part of all  was the way the relationships were revealed.  They, at the youngest ages, knew things about each other, had shared loves and dislikes, delighted in chosing this for him, that for her.  No one was surprised when Caleb picked out a special little car for each one of his siblings, but what was amazing, was how each car really fit.  He  gave me a van with a tow behind camping trailer. I have always wanted a van with a camping trailer. How did he, at age 2, know?

Arriving home,  sneaking steps, bags behind backs, whisperings and wrappings, one by one, gifts appear. Under the lighted tree dangling with homemade ornaments of the years past, seventy-two sibling-to-sibling presents appear.  Seventy-two individual gifts. Seventy-two individual relationships.

Last year, to be practical, I decided each child would get 2 sibling gifts, one from the "biggers" one from the "littles". It was nice. I didn't have to do anything for the older ones since my oldest drives now.  I took care of the younger ones somehow, it isn't even memorable.  The gifts were very nice. No junky dollar store stuff  to sometimes be carted off by the garbage collectors in the same load as its wrapping paper.  Last year  was very nice, but there is something touching about seventy-two individual gifts under the Christmas tree. Seventy-two individual relationships represented under the Christmas tree.

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What do you get when you cross a 2 yo boy, the great outdoors and ash from long ago burnt leaves? 

A little Indian of course.

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"My son, hear the instruction of thy father, and forsake not the law of thy mother: For they shall be an ornament of grace unto thy head, and chains about thy neck."  Proverbs 1:8-9

My kids are so weird. 

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The Pink Dunking Booth and Me

The first time I saw the dunking booth at the rental place I thought I would hate to get in it because it's PINK!!! But later I really was excited to be able to get into it. Until I got DUNKED! At first I felt like I was falling off a cliff. When I hit the water  I thought I had fallen in the ocean. Later, Ben and I had fun swimming in it. I would like to get a dunking booth again, but one that is NOT pink! J____

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Welcome to this blog created to share what we are doing with those who care.

 

 

We went on a trial camping trip, and it was surely a success in C__'s book As we began to pack up everything in order to leave the second morning, C__ asked what we were doing and I explained we had to leave for home that day. He helpfully ran into his tent and put all his things into his green camping bag. However, we were soon puzzled to see this (Restaged for purposes of photo journaling. He was very dejected and sad looking the original time.)

 

 

 

C___ was headed for the woods.

" Where are you going?"

No answer.

"C__! What's wrong?"

Still no answer, just saggier shoulders and a sadder face.  I hurried to catch up with him. "Are you going to live in the woods, honey?"

He finally answered with a sob, "No, I am going to look for a place to CRY!"

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