Friday Favorite: Growing Lollipops

I'm not much of a gardener, but even I didn't mess this one up.

Plant jelly beans the day before Easter.

And just look at what blooms on Easter morning!

A Tale of Two Elves

I will honor Christmas in my heart 

and try to keep it all the year. 

--Charles Dickens

Talking Turkey

My mind flew all over the place. I might have talked up this craft thing a bit much. I possess no gift for glitter and glue. In fact, it makes me a tad nervous.

But my friend Lisa had just taught a Thanksgiving song to our four enthusiastic preschoolers and toddler, and I couldn't resist the great segue.

And a mother is obliged to help her little turkeys spread their wings.

And I had a lot of toilet paper rolls ready for recycling.

The kids were all giggles and excitement. The baby loaded wiggly eyes in her mouth. The preschoolers grappled for the too-few scissors.

I panicked.

Clasping my hands, I tried to look more delighted than desperate. "Next, we're going to trace each others hands!" My knuckles were white. Might they jab each other with the giant pencils?

Nope.

The big brothers traced their sisters' dimpled little hands. The little sisters traced their brothers'. They cut some paper and smeared some glue before skedaddling off to dump boxes and rummage through book shelves and wrestle.

I wanted to quit more than once, but Lisa powered through. So I did, too.

Let me introduce you to our turkey:

Yes, that's a turkey.

I got the idea on Pinterest. It was supposed to look different.

Of course.

Pinterest: the place where moms everywhere "pin" their delusions of grandeur.

According to the many photos on Pinterest, our art should look more like a bird and less like some modern statement of the cock-eyed insanity that is the holiday season.

But that's why I love it.

The messy parts make life memorable and unique. Striving for perfect Pinterest holidays or prime-time tv ideal ultimately leads to disappointment. Reality can not live up to the fantasy.

During holiday season 2013, I plan to embrace the cock-eyed individuality of the moment. This year, I hope to find beauty and happiness and thankfulness in the authentic.

How about you?  Have you ever had a fantasy holiday/event/moment turned upside down...and been happier for it? Tell me about it.

If you'd like to focus on stress-busting this holiday season, check out Dr. Lisa Marotta's series on her blog here.

Happy Birthday, Brother

My brother had rules.
1.  Don't hug him.
2.  Don't go in his room.
3.  Don't touch anything if he allows me in said room. (His dog Yoda could drool on his pillow, but if I so much as wrinkled the comforter, I apparently left my inherently offensive sister-smell on it.)
4. Do what he says. 

He reinforced his views with backup.
Mooooom! Tell her to stop singing at the table.
Mooooom! Make her sit with her legs together.
Mooooom! She has milk-breath. (Again, the dog?)

Even then, I suspected Brett loved me.  After all, he loved his dog.  And he called me a dog so often that in the first grade I barked and walked on all-fours at school for a period of time. 

photo credit: Martha Bryant                                Disney World

As if my sheer existence wasn't embarrassing enough for a brother five years older than the little sister who idolized him, it would seem that having a dog for a sibling would push him over the edge.

It didn't.

He was too cool for that. We watched Empire Strikes Back for his 10th birthday. I've been a scifi geek--if mostly closeted--ever since.  He gave me Madonna's True Blue tape.  I memorized every word. One of my favorite memories is us blowing up his models in the field behind our house while filming it. It's no surprise I wanted to create a story to accompany the explosions, but he was the special effects guy and had no time for his little sister's nonsense.

As an adult, he put a poster of a monkey in his classroom and told his students it was a picture of his sister.  When visiting him once, a child ran up and hugged him around his kneecaps (my brother is 6'2").  Brett introduced me as his sister.  The kid's eyes widened and he whispered. "She doesn't look like her picture!"

That's when I found out I had been promoted from canine to primate.

I should not have felt as happy as I did.

In addition to being older, and therefore cooler, Brett was good at stuff I was not. Probably our biggest scholastic difference is his scientific mind. I signed up for an astronomy class in college, thinking it was astrology.  Brett became a science teacher.  One of my biology teachers accused me of asking "stupid questions" as a joke.  Another student came to my "defense" and informed her that, no, I really was that bad in science.  Such an event never happened to my brother. He created spectacular science projects.  The science fair filled me with dread, but it lit him with excitement. Most of my projects were his ideas and simple--like making a compass by rubbing a needle against a magnet. I had no ideas of my own.

He's still teaching me.

Earlier this summer, he showed up at my house with shears.  Since he's all science-y, Mother Nature likes him. Plants wilt at the sight of me. Brett has a green thumb. Mine is black. 

Every once in a while, he beautifies my neglected yard.  Most recently, he brought reinforcements.  The whole family--okay, mostly Uncle Brett and Aunt Lisa--lopped limbs, trimmed bushes, and pulled weeds for an hour or so. I tried to guess where he would next tell me to clip, but I was always wrong. Of course. A beautiful lawn is a science.

Brett and Lisa in their backyard aka Eden

 A horsefly bit him that afternoon. He shrugged as blood dripped down his leg and went on clipping. If that had been me, I would have curled into the fetal position.

Still, it was . . . fun.  Usually, the surest way to get me to cuss is to do yard work, but with our families working together it was a garden party.  Maybe next time I'll have snacks and drinks. 

I'm not sure what motivates him to help us with our yard.  Maybe he recognizes my complete incompetence with all things green.  Maybe he feels sorry for plants who can't cry as my children do to complain of thirst. Maybe he's embarrassed by how sad our lawn looks and that people know we're related.  Maybe he is just super generous and knows it makes me happy.

Whatever the reason... it really, really does make me happy. Like getting that Madonna cassette or being allowed to cross the threshold of his room and play Atari.  I looked at my front yard this morning and sighed. It was pretty. I felt cool.

And I was so glad my little ones witnessed siblings as friends who know their siblings' greatest weaknesses and faults. And they help make them right with the world.  I tried to drive the point home with my son. "Isn't it nice of Uncle Brett and Aunt Lisa to come help us?"

Max nodded. "That's what brothers do."

Indeed.

That, and compare their little sisters to animals.

photo credit: Martha Bryant

Happy birthday, Brett the Brat.


Anyone have a sibling story to share?  How does your sibling help balance you?

The Magic of Independence

The instant I placed a tiara on Alexandra's head, Max was awestruck. "Ooooh. She needs a magic wand. She's a magical princess!"

He was a police man. In a construction hat. While I hunted for a wand, his plans for capturing trolls flowed quickly. He declared he would identify the bad trolls so Alexandra could capture them with her magic.

When we arrived at our playdate, she proved she had other plans.

She acquired a cool car...

 

...that she borrowed from her cute sidekick...

 

 ...and then she donned a mask.

Apparently, she was a super magical princess.

I like that she didn't let us define her. May she always be so brave.

Keeping it real: Even a super magical princess has to hydrate

Mommy Math

I need an ice cream cone.

Or a glass of whine wine.

Don't believe me?

Do the math:

toddler changing from two naps to one nap + Daylight Savings Time = preschooler raising eyebrows and saying with a grin, You're a funny mommy = (screaming + crying)baby/going for drive

Who needs a crib?

Step Right Up to the Game of Life

Life doesn't always play fair.

The way we deal with it makes us the people we are.

I'm not sure I've ever written about this topic publicly. 

But I share my story as a valentine to other couples who are playing the Carnival Game of Life...and think it might just be rigged against them.

Check out my story over at Oklahoma Women Bloggers today!

Pecking Order is for the Birds

Flocks of hens have one chicken in charge. When two flocks combine, they fight.  This is where the term "pecking order" originated.

Papa was concerned about his smallest hen from the old flock when he saw it fighting with the largest one in the new one.  He even rescued the little bird. Ultimately, he decided to let nature take its course.

The fight began again, and he learned something.

The little hen attacked the big one.

That fearless fowl jumped up and dangled from the others ears until it was tired. It nestled under the larger hens wings in bird-brained guerrilla warfare. Rested, it clamped onto the big wattle with its beak.

Later, Papa discovered the little hen bullying the second largest hen. Eventually, they established their pecking order with the smallest one in the hen house being in charge.

We've had a similar experience in our home recently.

Alexandra flung a place mat on the floor and refused to pick it up. Instead, she wanted me to pick her up.  She cried. She hung on my leg. It was pathetic.  I almost rescued her until she finally gave in and handed it to me.

Pecking order restored. 

I think.

A few days later, she pulled me out of my chair and came after me with an inflatable light saber.

"Tzzz. Tzzz. Tzzz."

She's never seen Star Wars, but the Force is strong in that one. 

Might I add that my son had drawn whiskers and a cat nose on my face at this point in the day? Don't judge me.  It filled time and was easier than telling them to stay out of my makeup.

Yeah, it's pretty clear where I am in the pecking order around here.

Fast Trikes and Hair Bows

Photograph courtesy of Alecia Mitchel Photography

Enjoying her fluffy hair bow and sassy boots, Alexandra toddled happily around Max's school when we dropped him off yesterday morning. 

I said, "Let me carry you up the stairs.  I don't think you can make it."

"Sure, I can." She lifted her tiny foot high in the air, pulled on my hand, and climbed the stairs.

Max's eyes were as wide as mine as we both laughed.  Not only did her speaking astonish us, but she'd spoken in a sentence!

Alas, this mama's heart wasn't done with surprises that morning.

The three year old class was playing outside as we left.  Most of the boys zipped around on tricycles.

Alexandra waved at them. 

One of the little boys removed his feet from the pedals to slow down. "Hi, cute baby."

My heart seized.

In a very short period of time, those trikes will be replaced with fast cars. 

Those beautiful, round faced boys will be handsome young men with muscles.

And my eager little girl who scampered away from my hand to clutch the fence just to be closer to them will be . . . a teenager.

For now, though, she still wants to triumph over walking up stairs while holding my hand.

I'll follow her lead and take it all one step at a time.

Oklahoma Women Bloggers: Poopie Diaper Path to Enlightenment

Did you see it? 

I had a guest post on Oklahoma Women Bloggers! OKWB is a brand new network of bloggers all around Oklahoma. Cool stuff is happening around here.

Check out my Poopie Diaper Path to Enlightenment.  See a picture of Max doing downward facing dog. 

I asked Alexandra to pose, too, but she just got on all fours and barked. 

Decked the Halls and Done with December

I am tuckered out.

I am thrilled the holiday season is over.  Sure, the tree is still lit, but 2012 is OVER. The advent calendar is boxed up and my insane collection of popsicle sticks listing "fun" family activities is tucked away until next December.

If every member of the family hadn't raced through Kleenex boxes and hacking coughs, the season might have been a little merrier.  Sleep does that, I hear. By holly or by jolly, we managed to make some memories, though.

We watched Christmas movies and read special books.  We piled into the car in our pajamas and looked at lights.  We decorated our own house.  On a personal note, I enjoyed my annual Inklings Christmas tea with my writing buddies and ran/walked a 5k with my hubby and friends.

Here are some highlights:

Christmas Parade
My parents parked their truck at a prime location about two hours before the parade began. How awesome are they?! We showed up with McDonald's (don't judge me) and had a picnic right in the bed of their truck as we waited. The kids were joy incarnate.

School Christmas Program
The program is a testimony to the teachers' amazing creativity and patience.  Look at his cute Christmas tree shirt! Each child in that school wore a hand made shirt and sang carols.  Just thinking about the process gives me the urge to wash the inevitable paint out of my hair. Aside from the fact they're wonderful teachers who love our kids, I obviously love those ladies because they create Pinterest crafts with my boy...so I don't have to.

Gingerbread House
The grands all visited and--partially against their will--helped Max decorate his first gingerbread house.  My mom (we are so similar) came up with the idea of putting pins in the cookies to make the house stay together. Yeah, um, who needs icing? Let's place an emergency room visit in a baked good. Garrett's mom stuck with Max until the powdered sugar snow fell...everywhere. Grandma Celeste had the good sense to stay out of the mess and just laugh.

The Grands and Max with the gingerbread house

Visit Santa
I'd heard the North Pole can be a nightmare.

But I tried to prepare.

In the past, we visited Santa during the week. This year, the weekend was our only option. I called and asked when Santa arrived. She told me noon. Guess what? We drove the 45 minutes and showed up at 11:30 to wait in line.  Then we were assigned a ticket to return at 1 to wait in line again. We found out the jolly old elf had been accepting visiors since 9 AM.

I almost made the naughty list.

We gave the kids a lunch of cookies. We waited patiently to play with remote control cars.

We camped out at the North Pole until our appointment.  Alexandra even kept a bow in her hair just for the big guy. She was extremely excited to see him....until she wasn't.

In all the chaos of the season,  I managed to get out a few Christmas cards. They looked something like this:

The Barnetts--Keeping the happy in the holidays!

 I'm not sure who I sent the cards, though. I had a list, but then I found another list after they were mailed.  I had some cards left over and can't figure out who I missed. And I may have sent some twice. So, friends, Merry Christmas. You may remember the Christmas Card Picture Debacle of 2011.  I vow to be more organized in 2013.

Oh, who am I kidding?

Cookies for Santa
Max has never seen the movie that made this pose famous. He was simply excited.

 He couldn't wait for the guy to come down the chimney.


Alexandra, on the other hand, was asleep before we set out the fudge and strawberry cookies.

Christmas Day
We hosted 34 family members on Christmas day.  Yes. You read that correctly.  It was a wonderful combination of family from all sides.

 

I made the dressing I mentioned here. The next day,  I found missing ingredients in the fridge *head thunk*... so I made another tastier batch.   Volunteers contributed to the meal. Because I crave organization and To make the drop-off easier, I even made name tags for everyone to place their food.  This was Garrett's idea of joke:

Throw a Snowball
The next day it snowed enough to delight a preschooler.

 
Happy New Year!
The four of us rang in 2013 with champagne and sparkling apple juice, silly hats and noisemakers...at 7:30 PM. 

I mean, really, it's lucky we lasted that long.

Friday Favorite: Celebrate Society Shirts

Everyone possesses talent.  How one uses it makes all the difference.

When Jennifer Laws was in the hospital with her newborn twins and planning their future parties, her mind wandered to other babies in the world who were not born into such happy circumstances. Recently, she decided to use her party skills to make a difference.

Thanks to Jennifer, children who are in a local emergency shelter on their birthday will get the regulation cake from the kitchen--and they will also get a "party in a bag."  It's a kit she created that helps each child, when surrounded by strangers on the anniversary of his or her birth, understand that someone knows their existence is worth celebrating.

I love this idea almost as much as I love Jennifer's heart.

Want to know how to help?

She's funding this endeavor by creating designs that you can buy at her etsy shop. 

 

Print and iron the design yourself or pay a little more for her to create the whole shirt.

What a simple way to celebrate your little ones and help celebrate another child as well!

Any day decals:

birthday party decals:

and check out these adorable Halloween decals--just perfect for a t-shirt or treat bag:

 
Last month I witnessed the giddiness that is Jennifer on the morning of her sons' birthday party. "I love party day," she said, practically bouncing with joy. "This must be what Lebron James feels like on game day!"

Pretty accurate comparison.

Happy 4th of July Week to my Fellow Firecrackers!

The sizzle, screams, and splendor of fireworks are all part of Independence Day.

2012 was the first time the youngest generation of cousins picked out firecrackers and played with fire.

Perhaps it was a bad idea considering the variety of mishaps that occurred when my generation was sitting at the kids' table. Bottle rockets caught a field on fire. A string of Black Cats exploded in my brother's hand. My aunt "pantsed" her daughter because a sparkler caught her polyester pants on fire.

Sure, these things didn't happen when we were together. But with those experiences individually, what trouble might occur?

Time to make some memories!

We wore silly clothes.

Our ninety-one-year-old matriarch was thrilled to have her granddaughter and great-granddaughters visiting from Belgium and her grandson visiting from Virginia.  I'm sure she was happy we were there, too, but we now live down the street and around the corner so the novelty has worn off!

Don't we look festive?

We blew bubbles.

 We watched snakes "grow" and threw snappers.

We waved sparklers.

 

We made intelligent choices--like putting the bag of firecrackers on the baby stroller...

...and lighting a seemingly harmless train that blew smoke before miniature rocket launchers propelled it toward a gas grill's propane tank. Upon contact it rotated, shot sparks at the propane tank and sped beneath a parked automobile.

The gas tank immediately ignited.

 

I confess. That last part didn't happen for realsies. In my imagination it did, though. 

And it was a BIG fireworks display.


Hmmm. Maybe there's a reason fireworks are illegal in so many places.  Luckily, we all survived.

Hope your holidays were safe and continue to be throughout the weekend!

Alexandra's World vs. Christina's World

Alexandra experience grass for the first time recently. After luxuriating in the texture, she looked longingly at her brother, scampering about the lawn.

 

 Andrew Wyeth's Christina's World immediately came to mind.

Christina's World is in the style of magic realism. Something about my kids that day made me feel they were, too.

Magic Monday: Lucky Charm

  I completed Lucky Charm, my second young adult novel a year and a half ago.  And I couldn't stop tweaking it. Granted, that whole morning sickness and giving birth thing was time consuming, but I wouldn't let go of the manuscript.

Until now.

The cosmos spoke to me.

My novel has two key images--rose rocks and shamrocks.

Yesterday, my family helped my grandmother clean out her garage. Not knowing a thing about my novel, she gave me this:

Afterward, we went to the lake. My son and I were walking along when he said, "Mom! I have to show you something." He claimed he'd seen a roly-poly and pointed at the ground.  Right beside his imaginary crustacean was this:

Okay, Universe. I'm listening.