It's the journey, not the destination....

After a four month hiatus from my fledgling blog, I am back.  Writing, of course, takes a certain amount of mental and emotional energy.  Given the hurdles that I had to clear over the spring, I had to recoil:  board re-certification exam that occurs once every ten years, is expensive, requires brushing up on test-taking skills as well as mastery of all the new scientific and clinical information that has accrued in the decade, and wanting to not fail;  major abdominal surgery to repair some of structural damage done by three pregnancies with 9+lb baby boys;  new and exciting and very time-consuming projects at the company I'm the CEO of (it's not as fancy as it sounds) requiring multiple meetings in our hospital and medical community that I literally can't step back from even though I'd like to;  escalating hours in my "real job" of doctoring at the hospital;  organizational, scheduling and bookkeeping duties related to my husband's small business/corporation as well as our household (The Calendar could be contracted out as a part-time job in itself);  duties related to being member and secretary of my children's school board of directors, and the attendant spring-time issues of major budget and financial decisions;  end of school year celebrations, plays, field trips, parties; planning the three-week camping/road trip that commenced immediately following school and Memorial Day weekend;  usual duties of life, home, wife, mother including (but not limited to) daily breakfast, lunch and dinner preparation, chauffeur duty to and from school and scattered after-school activities, diaper changing, laundry, daily (up to thrice) sweeping of the dusty floor in the dirt house in the dusty high plains desert, bathing and fingernail care and hair brushing and inspection of children to insure weather-appropriate and reasonably matching clothing with location of shoes and any necessary accessories, such as coat of varying weight, hat for either warmth or sun, gloves in winter and sunscreen in summer;  keeping my self from getting over-extended, over-tired, cranky, catty and maintaining my sanity with runs, painted toe-nails, and a clean car (to feel some sense of control, I suppose).  Oh, and trying to be a good friend and good wife (and I mean that in the best possible way) while trying to stay engaged in the social and political world around me.

Sound ridiculous?  Yes.  I don't list it all to sound boastful or complaining at all.  It's just taking stock, which vacations often prompt me to do.  And it's similar to many people's lives.  Yes, David Byrne, how did I get here?  And I purposefully tried not to get here.   I try to avoid getting or feeling over-extended.  I try to be a peter pan kind of mom, after all.  Seriously, I still think of my primary job as parenting, wife-ing, home-making.  Then comes being a doctor, and then the other stuff comes after that.  It's no wonder that it feels, as most would agree, like my life is flying by, my kids are growing up fast.  Every day that I see patients in the hospital (and as an internist I see adults, mostly older ones) at least one tells me how quickly it all goes by, to enjoy my children, even the hard parts, how special it is to parent a young child, how lucky I am, how these are the best years of my life, the years of milk and honey.  I agree with this and bear it in mind constantly.  I've tried to structure my life such that I would be present for and relish all of those fleeting moments in my children's lives, even the most painful and annoying ones (and aren't they unfortunately plentiful?).  I have the same feeling about my family's health--given all of the things that can go wrong and the tragedies that befall wonderful people every day, there but for the grace of God go we.  I've also recognized in my self-analysis and attempted life balancing that I become a less-effective, disaffected, isolated person if I only parent.  I like feeling productive and connected, feeling like I'm contributing to the world, and earning my own paycheck.  And so I let the other things in, one by one, because they are important.

Well, thank God for vacations.  My husband and I bought a camper van in the winter in anticipation of road trips to come.  We did a big one last summer with great success (and a 1, 3 and 7 year old to boot) in my family car and commando style tent camping.  We decided that while the boys are young, road trips plus/minus camping, would be the way for us to go.  We bought a Sportsmobile van.  Inspired by the freedom of the road, the freedom from the airport security process, and the rare opportunity to be spontaneous, we planned on a three week trip north through the Rockies.  I'd like to say it also is economical, and except for the actual purchase of the van, it is!  Our goal for this summer's trip was to hit several National Parks/Monuments, and maybe catch up with some old friends along the way.  We were aiming for some big guns, Yellowstone, Grand Tetons and Glacier, with side trips to Rocky Mountain and Dinosaur.  Mission accomplished, and then some.

The beauty of a road trip, when done as the trip and not for the agonizing purpose of getting across the country in a hurry, is that the vacation and attendant psychological freedom begins as soon as everyone is belted in the car and you pull out of the driveway.  As it always is, both my husband and I had to put in extra time before (and less enjoyably now after) the trip to clear our life's path for the journey.  I felt only capable of taking one day, quite literally, at a time.  But then, hitting the road and driving north, we were again taking things one day at a time.  The difference was that at home I was performing duties proscribed and penned on The Calendar, and had to do each of those duties as a matter of course or in preparation for something else.  I couldn't look ahead, lest I get distracted from the duty at hand.  I had only so much time to do each thing.  I had one day to pack for the trip two weeks ahead, and one day to pack two days ahead.  Every other day in April and May were accounted for. 

On the road, and with only a few reservations (out of necessity, at campsites in the national parks) we took things day by day, and drilling down more microscopically, moment to moment.  We could side trip here.  We could stop there.  We could keep going on the road if all were content or asleep.  We could stay an extra day in Bozeman or Glacier or Ouray because we were having an extra good time.  Much to the delight of my husband's wanderlustful soul, we could be spontaneous.  We could linger.  We could roam.  And, save for our occasional use of smartphones (of which the GPS mapping and direction capabilities were stellar), we could eschew the "real world" and live in the moment with the kids.

All that a child really wants from their parent is attention, love.  Since we had no other distractions, they could have it in spades.  We also went where we, the adults, wanted to go.  It was a win-win, no compromise.  We've never been to the glorious Yellowstone and, thank God and Teddy Roosevelt, we could all go and benefit from and enjoy it's fruits.  We saw geysers and wolves and mud pots and bison and grizzlies and raging waterfalls and the yellow stones of their grand canyon.   We rode bikes as a family.  We ate marshmallow pancakes for breakfast.  The older boys became Junior Rangers.  We lived and slept by the sun and moon and not the clock, apparently staying up late and sleeping in.  We let our oldest have a bit of supervised autonomy.  We also saw dinosaur bones, crossed the path of Lewis, Clark and Sacajawea, saw moose, elk, several bird species, and grizzlies.  In Glacier, we saw the namesake ice, dwindling as it is, set upon jagged peaks and against cobalt blue skies, floored by crystalline lakes.  It was magnificent.

I was moved to tears on multiple occasions, by the sheer beauty of it all.  The creatures flourishing in a wild and natural habitat, the blazing beauty of our surroundings, the wonder at the history of this amazing land.  The grace and beauty and imperfection of our family.  The wide-eyed light in my boys as we visited museums and visitor's centers and saw a wolf.  And I could just be.  And so could the kids.  Of course, they still fought and whined and cried.  And it rained.  But I wasn't hurrying them to get shoes on, to make sure they had lunches, to tick off items on the agenda.  We could transcend the minor annoyances of the day. I watched each of my three boys leap forward in some way.  C (who turned 8 on the trip) knows the natural world in a very deep way, wanted to plen aire paint, and internalized the meaning of an ecosystem, explaining to the park ranger in Glacier the ecology of the mountain goat.  S (age 4) went from drawing fisted scribbles and scratches into careful renditions of identifiable scenes, dramatically and literally overnight, creating a portfolio of pictures of us, animals, trains, busses and other things I will put in the scrapbook of our trip.  F (age 2) learned to love camping, developed a flexibility not easy for toddlers, and began to compose more verbose sentances.  It was just lovely.

And so, in re-entry, I am trying as I always do, to bring part of that vacation into real time.  Isn't that the purpose of vacation?  Mental and physical relaxation and the kind of frame-shift that we can incorporate into our self to bring more joy?  Can I bring the zen of living freely in the moment into balance with a scheduled life?  Well, that may be overly ambitious.  But it has pushed a re-set button in my heart.  It has put priorities into perspective.  It has re-connected me to my ever-evolving children.  It gave me a burning desire to just live in vacation mode.  Thank goodness it's summer and I can hold on to that, at least for a little longer.  It's life: one great big wide open road trip.

My Funny Valentine Project

I love making Valentine's with the boys.  This sweet but semi-superfluous, semi-contrived holiday falls at a time when we've recovered from Christmas craftiness, and I need a project to focus on while we are mid-winter housebound.  In the past we've made fortune cookies out of felt with love notes inside, made flowers from cupcake papers, and made collages from magazine cutouts.  This year I was more excited than the boys about our project.  They did enjoy it, but I loved it.  Partly because it was an extremely green project, and I could feel so super good about it all.  Partly it was super practical, and partly it was goopy fun.  Hopefully I'm not being too smug about getting two of the three "R's".  We made paper and sprinkled it with wildflower seeds so that the paper could be planted--recycle AND reuse!!  Or is it double reused...or double recycled...hmmm.

I  went through piles of remnant construction paper and old abandoned art projects, collecting all of the scraps of paper I could.   It was fun looking at old cutout colored paper in relief and partially finished drawings from the kids, knowing that art and energy would go into these Valentines.  I got to reflect on previous artistic obsessions, such as the letter X.  I divided the paper into 4 piles of color groups--pink/red/purple, blue/green, brown/yellow/orange, and black.  I found 3 buckets and a small trashcan, and tore the paper into one inch-ish size pieces.  The boys helped some with this--since I decided to go big and do four batches (can I do anything little?).  If the project had been smaller they would likely have been able to tear plenty.  I added white paper (all recycled) into all of the buckets and then covered the paper with warm water and let it soak for a couple of days...mabye four?

I started the project thinking I could finish it the next day but that didn't work...it really only needed to soak for 24 hours.  But, I had work and various other interferences and I began to imagine all kinds of disgusting microbes festering in the water.  That didn't happen--well at least not to a significant and smelly point.  Probably partly because I put the buckets in our storage room that's nearly as cold as a fridge.  So I worried for nothing.

Anyhow, the next step was putting the paper with LOTS of water into the blender and making the glop.  This was the kids' favorite part, except for the baby, who hated the loud noise the blender makes on 'high.'  I collected window screens not being used in the middle of winter and placed them over the bathtub.  I got some plastic wrap and a half cup measure and went for it.  I had to experiment a bit with how to shape the paper.  I was trying to make hearts, which I more or less did, but that was a little tricky for the kids to achieve.  Their paper was a bit more free form and amorphous...and sort of thick, but pretty.  I achieved the heart by making a "V" with the glop, touching it up with my fingers to make it round and pointy, sprinkled on the seeds, then put plastic wrap over the top and pressed to shape and wring out excess water.   The tub turned into a rainbow.  The black and white paper turned a pretty purple.  The pinks and reds stayed true.  The brown palette glop made a lovely au natural peachy-tan.  The green and blue turned a muted minty color.

We then had several screens full of glop that dried overnight--super quick here in the dessert during wood stove season.  The paper peeled right off of the screens once dry, and had that lovely organic-looking soft edge.  Then I made up a little poem to explain what the paper was for:

Plant Me!

When Valentine's gone

And winter is done

Plant me in the ground

Give me water and sun

Soon flowers will show

And my friends will know

No matter the season

Love will always grow!

Cheesy enough?  Cute anyhow.  I attached these little poems to the hearts with yarn and had the kids write the "To" and "From" parts.  We had so much glop that I made some extra squared and rectangular papers and used them as background mattes, printing out some photos and mounting them on the paper for family Valentine's Day gifts.

I'm looking forward to planting some of these when Spring arrives.  With over a foot of snow on the ground and more falling from the sky as I type, it seems so, so far away from now.  At least we can dream about it.

Children of Avatar

Given that I live in the boonies, have three small children, haven't seen a movie in a theater with my husband since before we were married eight and a half years ago, and that I tend to hibernate in winter, it's shocking that I made it to the theater to see Avatar.  And it was well worth it.  It's one of those game-changing cultural and technological experiences that had to happen.  I had heard from enough people that it was "The Best Movie Ever," that I made it to the theater and was thoroughly engrossed and amazed.  Before I saw it, I wondered if I might be able to bring my 7 year old, C, to see it.  I had reasons:  he loves visual arts (and most other types of artistic pursuits), he has talked a lot about making movies when he gets older, he has a dreamy countenance and could engage in such a spectacular fictional world, and he would be able to engage in the cultural discussion and experience around this movie.  I spoke at length with dear mommy friends.  I heard of other kids his age and younger that saw it.  I went to one of my favorite websites for evaluating media for children, commonsensemedia.org.  I trust that website, and it had a definite 13 years old+ rating for children.  Based on that and other issues,  I decided against it.  Then I saw the movie myself.

Well, you know, wow.  Words can't really describe the experience.  Story aside, the 3D experience is like being on the holodeck of Pandora.  The intensity of the scenery, the acrobatics, the flying, the sharp-toothed critters were like nothing ever before on film (but, remember, I don't get out much)...not to mention the emotional intensity of the story and the absolute devastation that befalls the Na'vi in the loss of their home.  My husband and I came out of the theater in our own state of Shock and Awe.  Then we had a thoughtful discussion about whether or not our son should see it.  He had the same questions that I had thought about before seeing it.  We both admired the hero of the story, the warrior who finds his path and love.  We adored the strong female characters in the story, and the fact that the more 'primitive' culture triumphs over the machines (of course, how many machines were needed to make the film?).  There are many positive (if not psychadelic) messages in this story. 

 I take my job of raising boys--three of them--very seriously.  I am trying to strike the balance between strength and sensitivity;  trying to raise noble warriors.   In fact our eldest's moniker is that of a legendary Irish warrior.  We need powerful warriors and true heroes in our clans.  We speak often to our boys of what bravery means in the course of sword fights, archery, wrestling and general disagreements:  how to be strong, to stand for your beliefs--to know your beliefs, for that matter--to be honest and to communicate needs and feelings (use your words, boys).  And there have been moments when I'm even proud of my son for using physical force and standing up for himself.  C has for years taken the warrior role deep into his soul, and until recently dressed up constantly as a loincloth wearing Native, carrying quivers of arrows and bows. 

In spite of its warrior hero, I have concluded that Avatar is just too intense for my boy.  The dinosauroid critters were ugly, sharp-toothed and terrifying.  The first scene where Jake is alone in the forest would be nightmare-inducing enough...and for a little boy who lives in the forest amongst sharp-toothed creatures?  The fighting scenes were so realistic and violent--granted, though not gory.  Watching the home tree get torched and crash to the ground while the Na'vi flee--horrific.  And well, we live amongst the trees, too, and fire is a real, real issue every summer.  How is a young mind to process all of this?

I waver back and forth, pretty much constantly, about whether I am too protective of my child.  Children in other countries, or just other situations, actually use weapons, firearms, hunt, butcher...and play first person shooter video games, watch gore, violence and murder on television and in the theater.  Children are warriors, real and imaginary.  Consensus in our country and culture has given us the rating systems used on games and films.  But do people really pay attention to it?  I do, though I'm generally a rule follower...and I think I'm in the minority.  It is each individual parent/family's right to make decisions best for them.  But exposing 3 or 5 or 7 year olds to Avatar world?  Can a child even grasp the concept of fiction--science fiction--set 145 years from now?  Can they separate out reality from fake violence?  What do those searing images--of those animals and fires and dying Na'vi and humans with two arrows piercing the heart--do to the young brain?  Not to mention the degree of sensory stimulation that world presented....

I don't want to be judgmental of any parent that has chosen to take their child to see this film--I have really had to wrestle with these issues personally, and I'm laying it out here.  And my husband is still toying with taking C to see it (against my now formed opinion).  My reasoning on waiting for the 3D techno-experience is that the Alice in Wonderland movie and the Pixar dragon-tamer movie (the previewed films) will be coming out soon and C can go to the theater and experience these mellower films (though my husband argues that Alice in Wonderland might actually be scarier).  Will Avatar be in the theater, or home video, when he is at an age when I think he can handle it?  I'm sure it will be--and much, much more.  I am taking the path of (over?)protecting him--allowing him to remain in his childhood world.  Benign omission.   Because, though children do wield guns in certain parts of the world, I have the luxury of allowing my child to be a child.  He can be the warrior of his own making.  Once a door such as Avatar's is opened, there is no going back.  The innocence is lost;  a child begins to see the monster in the dark is real, the evil in the world is present and often deceitful, the intentions of others are muddy.  These are all lessons we learn in life--but when should we learn them?

It is hard, because there is a social pressure on kids to have seen this movie (or others like it--Batman, Spiderman, Star Wars--even more enticing to children and all PG-13) so that they are in the know.  But which child can really handle it?  Some kids my son's age very likely can handle this movie.  When is it that a child can watch a person die on screen through violence and understand the full impact and consequence of this?  The child brain operates on a concrete level--without the ability to think outside of itself (think: sharing) until the age of 12, give or take.  Children cannot perform abstract thought.  They can understand pretend, of course.  But the abstract concepts will be distorted in a child's mind to a point they can understand;  they will create a myth around this story to process the images.  And they will be desensitized to bad things.  I only saw a few pictures of the devastation in Haiti because it was enough--to know what had happened was enough.  I did not need the bombardment of grotesques images.  I'm a sensitized adult and was able to imagine enough about the tragedy.  The children warriors and hunters who wield guns or butcher goats are in living those situations--they are real to them and they see the blood and hear the cries.  Seeing violence third hand...well, I wonder about what effect that detatchment has on the soul.  Is the story understood?  Is the consequence translated? 

The questions I pose are sincere, and I would be very curious to hear from people who have taken children to see this film and what their experience has been.  For my tender-hearted boy (and self), I will postpone this experience.  He has enough going on in his imagination.  See clown, above.

Iscream for snowscream!

In honor of the highly anticipated series of snowstorms forecast to hit our little ol' piece of the Southwest, I'm putting out the recipe for one of our very most fave things regarding snow.  Yes, young and old alike love snow ice cream.  I know it is cold on cold--most of us want a hot cocoa after a tromp in the snow.  But it's fun and you can have cocoa with it.  And, hey, it's ice cream...kids don't care what temperature it is.


Snow Ice Cream
Get a big bowl of clean snow--at least 5 cups
1 cup half and half
1/2 cup sugar or maple syrup
1tsp vanilla
dash salt

Stir--will get nice and creamy.  Dreamy!  You can also experiment with flavors if you fancy--peppermint extract, lemon, lime or other fruit juice.  You can even squirt in a blob of chocolate syrup.  If you like, skip the dairy for a more sorbet experience. 

I thought myself quite clever, leaving the large bowl outside after serving to keep cold...then the kitty found it and had herself a big milky treat.  You may want to transfer to a smaller bowl, perhaps with a lid, and store wisely. 

Enjoy!

Reflections on Magical Thinking

I fear we are passing a milestone that I'm realizing I'm not quite prepared for.  With the magical glow of Christmas fading away in the rear view mirror, and the light and length of days growing steadily longer in the road ahead, I've been pondering the fairy world.  You know, Santa and the like.  My oldest, at age 7, seems like he has rocketed (and not slowly transitioned as I'd envisioned) from magical thinking to concrete thinking.   He spent the weeks before Christmas asking questions about the existence of Santa Claus, pondering the plausibility, examining the details and questioning the logistics.  I suppose this is the age when this sort of thing starts--it is after all the transition from magical to concrete operational, or some such thing that Piaget and Steiner and parents any observer of children note.  I'm just surprised at how quickly it came.  I think that the older kids on the playground plant the seed of doubt, and as concrete logical thinking grows so does the questioning. 

As the fall semester ended and we entered the cocoon of winter break some weeks back, I found that as the days since the playground accumulated and Christmas grew closer, C's belief in the magic of Santa began to rise again.  By the time the holiday arrived he was in the throes of flying reindeer and magical sleighs.  He declared several times that he was a believer.  He claimed, a la Polar Express, to hear the sleigh bells.  Assessing his booty, he was thankful, several times, to Santa and all that he delivered.  He even wanted to write him a letter of thanks (see my heart glow with that gesture).  It was amazing how Santa knew exactly what to bring, he reflected.  We played with the toys in our insulated home.  2010 came.  School restarted this week.  Then the test happened.

Last night, C mentioned that he had a newly loose tooth--his eighth, so he's very familiar with the coinage accompanying lost baby teeth.  He was wiggling away and it seemed quite loose for a new one--but those teeth can linger for months...and I heard nothing more.  This morning, he presented to the kitchen for breakfast, left lateral incisor tooth in hand.  He told me that he'd pulled it out last night and hadn't told anyone, left it under his pillow...and was disappointed to confirm that the tooth fairy does not exist this morning.  I was stunned.  Speechless.  I looked surprised, saying, "Oh, really?"  Then as is my usual fashion with difficult questions, I figured I'd turn them back on him.  What did he think happened?  I didn't ask too much, as I was trying frantically in my head to come up with a decent explanation...and tried to just let the silence seem natural.   In the end, nothing emerged in the moment so I dropped it.  I thought about it all day, and wondered if I could leave some quarters under his pillow while he was at school...but he took the tooth with him so that wouldn't work.  The teaching assistant in his class even called me at home to alert me of his test, bless her heart, but alas, I'd already found out.  At the end of the school day, he showed me the tooth in my rear view mirror as I drove out of the parking lot, replacing it in it's former socket and smiling.  He wondered if the tooth were still alive, if it would then be any value to the TF.  Then he stated matter of factly that he had in fact been testing the existence of the fairy and she failed.  He didn't say anything further.  He didn't ask me if it was me all this time, which I thought would be the ergo question.  I guess he's not quite ready to give it up completely...?  Though I did ask if he was going to put it under his pillow tonight and he said no, he was going to put it in a picture.  I suggested she might come steal it.  He said he didn't know.

Between this and Santa, I've wondered at the wonder of magical fairies.  Why are they so great?  Why do we propagate these lies?  I do believe that is how the young child's mind works.  Anyone who's spent any time with a 4 year old will be amazed at the imagination and magic that child will create, linking unlikely worlds, explaining how planes fly, how telephones work, watch them occupy mythical characters, performing impossible feats.  And as adults, Santa allows us to indulge in that magic, to honor the mysteries of life and relish the innocence, both of our child's and our own in remembrance.  I have been amazed at my own reaction to this (essentially) loss of innocence...one step closer to grown up, letting go, moving away from mom, not needing me...or perhaps I'm making too much of it. 

I also think that fairies and Santa give a needed degree of separation and consequence from a parent.  The day in, day out correcting/feedback/instruction that children receive from their parents can get old for both parties.  Creating that third party that is privy to all, sees all, knows all, but detaches the parent and all of that baggage.  As parents well know, children save their best tricks and worst behavior for home, where it's (usually, hopefully) safe to try out.  They can let their guard down, they don't have to keep it all together, and they can be a little terror to mom and she will love you in the end no matter what (usually, hopefully).  So behavior watched by a St. Nicolaus, Santa Claus, Kris Kringle who will know and reward or punish accordingly truly can bring out the best in a child.  Though I can't help but feel guilty about it, I pulled out a few Santa threats this year.  I even dialed him on my cell phone at one point.  But what a powerful motivator.  And it seems in my quick online research on Santa, that he has existed/been borrowed and evolved since the time of the Greeks.  This is not a new phenomenon.

I recall the exact moment in my childhood that I found out about Santa.  I had clung on until I was 8 in spite of three older siblings.  I believed, because everyone told me it was so.  Then I asked my mom one day, near Christmas, knowing she would tell me the truth but not expecting the answer I received.  We were in the laundry room with the ugliest orange-brown utility carpet you can conjure up in your mind as a background print on the moment.  I felt duped.  I felt so silly and small and that everyone had lied to me and I was mad that I was the last one in on the big joke on me.  I think it had something to do with being the youngest and needing to have everything perfect all of the time.  This was not in the plan.

I recovered.  And from what I hear, my reaction is unusual.  Kids seem to assimilate the truth about Santa/Easter Bunny/Tooth Fairy/Halloween Fairy magic slowly, and appreciate that the world was made softer and sweeter for them by those adults that love them.  In fact, I think that only now, as I perpetuate that lie that so upset my 8 year old self, do I realize how much love goes into being a magical fairy for your child.  And I realize the grief that goes with losing that soft, sweet, innocent outlook on the world that is being a young child.  There is nothing that quite compares to the joy and wonder on a child's face when a fairy-granted surprise greets them.  And tonight, as C goes to bed, I wonder what he will do with his tooth.  Which direction will he choose to go?  He's been playing with it all night and has actually lost it a couple of times, prompting me to suggest TF came and got it.  But he's recovered it, it's sharp and half-hollowed out edges irritating his palm.  I wonder.  I know it's ineveitable.  As I look at his big round face in the rear view mirror, now with big front teeth floating in space by now two empty sockets, I see that I am looking at my little boy, seeing the magic (though definitely NOT the creativity) fade into the background of the road we've already traveled.

12 Days of Crafty Christmas

On the twelfth day of Christmas, my true love made for me:  

12 (x 10) sugar cookies

eleven pipers piping

 

Ten pounds of fudge

 

Nine degrees Farenheit

 

Eight colored cards 

(drawn by your son and printed professionally as a school fundraiser that were too cute to pass up)

Seven small students singing 

(mostly sitting on stage)

 

Six hand knit Nepalese stockings by way of a little shop in Steamboat Springs that I had to order in a panic at the last minute because I couldn't find our stockings after traveling last Christmas and I love these cute knitted ones and wish I could knit this beautifully and I paid full price and expedited shipping for but S still has his from last year because we had to order him a new one since his old one was chewed on and nested in by a mouse....

(INHALE)

FIVE SWEET SMALL FINGERS!!

 

Four felt gnomes

 

Three wooden elves

 

Two knitted bears

 

And a green sweater with a red star!!!!!

(that I obsessively knitted for my eldest son so he'd have a holiday sweater since Grama couldn't find one for him and she found some for the younger ones!!!!!!!) 

Home Made Christmas Ornaments

Did you know that you can bake salt dough (ie, home made play dough) and it will harden enough to make a 3-dimensional sculpture...like an ornament?  I'm wondering how I have made it this far in life and just realized that.  We had a fun afternoon playing with the dough--free hand sculpting, rolling, cutting and molding.  My 7 year old made a snowman, Mary + Joseph and baby Jesus, then another 2 little baby Jesuses, a Christmas tree and a wreath.  They are adorable, very authentically his, and fun little secret santa presents.  The 4 year old wanted to make a pile of candy canes which will look almost planned out and cohesive on our tree.  I made a few big snowflakes and trees and will give them away as little presents.

We also used some extra cookie cutters and backed them with fun paper prints to make some ornaments.  The scissor work was slightly tricky, and the gluing/taping was kind of intricate.  But my 7 year old especially liked this.

Home Made Dough Ornaments
yield-dough for 5 dozen +/- ornaments
4 c all purpose flour
2 cups salt
1 1/2 cups water
1 t alum (we didn't have this;  it's a bitter preservative agent--I used ginger and cinnamon instead and the dough seemed fine.

Mix all ingredients thoroughly with hands.  Add water 1T at a time if to dry.  If desired tint dough with food dye by kneading in.  Cover (keep covered while working in dry climates);  can be refrigerated for up to 2 weeks.

Roll-1/8 inch thick and cut with cookie cutters.  If making ornaments use a straw or stick to make a hole near the top.

Mold-up to 1/2 inch thick.

Heat oven to 250 deg F.  Place decorations on ungreased cookie sheet and bake about 2 hours (until completely hard and dry).  Cool completely on wire rack.  Sand decorations lightly until smooth.  You can paint them with acrylic paint and seal if desired.