Tea Party

Aubrey just turned five!  In our home we only have "friend birthday parties" every few years, so this was her first birthday party with her friends.  She was so excited to help me prepare and set things up and as the time got closer for her guests to arrive her excitement grew exponentially. 

The Set-up

We decided that a Tea Party has certain requirements regarding attire so, our activities were geared toward getting the girls outfitted for tea time.

1st- Each of the girls decorated paper fans.  I ordered them from here. The fans turned out adorable and the girls loved fanning themselves dramatically.  More than once I heard someone exclaim, "Oh my! It's so hot in here! I need my fan!"

2nd-  The girls strung lifesavers and other cookies and candies with holes in them onto strings to make necklaces.  The girls loved the necklaces but if I were to do this activity again I would make sure to get "beads" that didn't have any chocolate on them.  Most of the girls left the party with chocolate smudges on their shirts.  Oops.

3rd- We helped each girl make a fancy hat to wear to tea.  We made the hats out of wrapping paper and the girls decorated them with flowers, feathers and butterflies.  Each hat was so fun and unique. 

After everybody was successfully "fancied up" (including a feather boa each) it was time for treats.

The Food

There were all kinds of fancy cookies, candies and the like.  Notice the cute teacup cookies- I love them!   Jen from All Things Exquisite has been a friend of my family's since our childhoods. She is so very talented! She decorated the cookies to match the invitations that we used, they went with our theme perfectly.  They were beautiful and tasty too! 

 Tea Time!

It was so fun to watch all of the girls eat their food daintily.  

Five

This was such a great way to celebrate Aubrey's birthday!

Happy Birthday Sweet Pea!

Sponges

I stood at the kitchen sink this morning, catching up on the dishes I didn't get to last night.  I held a green sponge in my right hand and scoured the melty cheese from a saucepan.  Aubrey, my four year old, sat on a stool at the bar.  She was busily coloring in her favorite coloring book.  When she finished the picture she'd been working on she proudly held it up for me to see.  A cow.  A cow that had been meticulously colored brown and red.

"That looks great!" I told her as I brought my sudsy left hand out of the water to give her a big thumbs-up.

"I need to learn about cows," she said earnestly, "maybe we should go to cow-dot-com."

Cow-dot-com.

Obviously, the green sponge in my hand isn't the only thing in the house soaking up everything around it.

Awkward

You know those awkward few minutes that pass when you see someone that you haven't seen in a long time?  When you've gotten past the how've-you-beens and the your-kids-have-gotten-so-bigs, there often follows an uncomfortable (though usually short) period of time in which you and your long-ago friend get acclimatized to one another again. 

I hate that adjustment period.  Remembering how seamlessly conversation came once upon a time and comparing that to the halting, unsure exchanges of the present can be painful. Therefore, I have made an executive decision:

Here at Ruggamuffin, there will be no awkward adjustment periods allowed.

Let's all pretend that my blogging has been as constant as my laundry.  In order to avoid the reality that I have no idea where my camera actually is, we'll imagine that my camera has been busy capturing and downloading the memories of the last few months.  We will carefully avoid acknowledging that all of the time that I spend online these days is being allotted to that other site (you know, the one that starts with a "P" and ends with an "interest").

Instead of focusing on those things that might highlight our recent separation, let me tell you about a moment of enlightenment I experienced yesterday.

I had an appointment in the morning to get my haircut, nothing serious just a little refresher.  I hurried my morning routine along but didn't skip any of the familiar steps .  Ladies, you know how it is, you cannot go to get your hair cut looking like a shmuck.  Even though you know that any time you spend doing your hair is time wasted, you do it anyway.  So, off I went to my hair appointment with my makeup placed with precision and my hair carefully coiffed. Since I was paying the skilled Suzanne a visit anyway, I decided to have her shape my eyebrows while I was at it.

Skillful Suzanne got straight to work on my curly hair.  She is a master, she uses techniques specific to curly hair.  Suzanne finished her magic on my hair then started on my eyebrows.

As she carefully wiped the makeup from my eyelids I blinked at the exact wrong moment.  Just as my eye opened, a warm drop of cleanser slid into my left eye, burning as I spastically tried to blink it out again.  (Did I mention this was my first experience with waxing?)  Suzanne carefully pulled the skin above my eye taut.  With a quick yank, the burning in my eye was eclipsed by the searing heat where my rouge eyebrow hairs had just been exiled. 

I drove home after my beautifying was complete and caught a glimpse of myself in my rear veiw mirror.  The reflection of my bloodshot left eye involuntarily squinted back at me, tears still leaked from the corner of my eye smearing black mascara onto my cheek bone, my wet hair was drying in uneven patches and the tender pink skin under both my eyebrows was swollen.  I chuckled to myself remembering the time that I spent earlier scrunching my curls purposefully, applying eyeshadow with precision and carefully coaxing as much length and volume as possible out of my mascara wand and onto my eyelashes. 

Perhaps the great artist Renoir was actually speaking of the lengths that women will go to for beauty when he said, “The pain passes, but the beauty remains.”(for six to eight weeks, then we'll start the "Beauty/ Pain Cycle" again)

Blogging from my nook

The thing about not feeling well is that usually you have two choices:

One: you can get the rest that your body needs.

Two: you can employ the "fake it 'til you make it" strategy and try to maintain your regular schedule.

Based on recent experience, I've concluded that both these approaches are flawed. For example, if you decide to listen to your body and stay in bed until the day comes that you feel better, that day may never come. When you lie in bed, in your jammies all day waiting to recover, your brain keeps sending your body the message, "You're not feeling well, you're not feeling well." Your body will believe your brain and your recovery will be prolonged.

On the other hand, however, if you decide to keep up your rigorous schedule of post-vacation laundry, dishes, running the kids to track and piano and the dentist, then making sure to do a summer craft project daily, you will, indeed, run yourself ragged. Your body will not have the resources it needs to heal itself and your recovery will be prolonged.

In light of this evidence, what's a busy mom to do when she's feeling under the weather? Having tried both of these methods this week, today I've decided to try a third "happy medium" type option. Instead of lying in bed like a slug OR trying to be super mom, today I'll try getting dressed and, while sitting on my couch, teaching myself to blog from my nook. And you know what?

I think I'm feeling a little better.

Growing in the Summer Sun

Growing in my backyard are feathery, pink and white peonies.  I love them for how they look.

Growing in my garden are impatient, green tomatoes.  I love them for how they'll taste.

Growing outside my kitchen window is a warm summer's day.  I love it for how it makes me feel.

Growing around our house is the freshly mowed grass.  I love it for how it smells. 

Growing in the summer sun are three dirty, energy-filled children.  I love them for who they are, and who they are becoming.

   

Grossed Out

I'm cringing today.  Here's why:

1-  My Husband's Lunch- a stir fry that included quinoa, zucchini and chicken hearts.  After he saw how grossed out I was, he pointed out the little valves and tubes on the hearts.  I nearly lost my pancakes.

2- Crickets- they disgust me but we deal with them daily for the sake of our leopard gecko.  Somehow they have found a way to escape from their cage.  I have discovered the little creepers all over the house including in the bathroom and kitchen sinks.  Blech.

Tortellini Pasta Salad You're Gonna Love

Tortellini Pasta Salad


Recipe by Our Best Bites

1 20-oz. package Mixed Cheese Tortellini
1/2 medium red onion, thinly sliced
1 pint cherry tomatoes, halved
1/2 medium cucumber, seeded and sliced
1 c. whole, large pitted black olives halved

1 c. Ground Mustard and Garlic Vinaigrette (recipe below)

Cook the pasta according to package directions. Meanwhile, combine the onions, tomatoes, cucumber, and olives in a large salad bowl. When the pasta is done cooking, drain and rinse in cold water. When the pasta has cooled, toss it with the combined ingredients and then add the salad dressing and toss until combined. If possible, refrigerate for at least an hour before serving. Serves about 8.

** Note from Kari- I left out the onions and didn’t bother with seeding the cucumbers (just sliced them). I also added a jar of marinated artichoke hearts that were a big hit.

Ground Mustard and Garlic Vinaigrette

Recipe by Our Best Bites

1/4 c. freshly squeezed lemon juice
1/4 c. white wine vinegar or rice vinegar; try to avoid plain white vinegar because it’s too strong here
2 green onions, firm parts only, trimmed of the white “furry” ends
4-5 cloves of garlic
1/2 tsp. Kosher salt
1/4 tsp. freshly ground black pepper
1 tsp. sugar or honey
2 Tbsp. coarse grain mustard
1 c. canola oil

In the jar of your blender, combine all the ingredients except for the oil. Blend on high. While the blender is running, slowly add the oil in a steady stream. Serve over mixed greens, sliced cucumbers and thinly sliced red onions.  If possible, refrigerate the dressing for a few hours before serving.

If you prefer a more “rustic” vinaigrette, pulse the ingredients together in the blender and then pulse the oil in larger quantities. Transfer to a lidded container and shake vigorously before serving

** Note from Kari- I made this dressing both with garlic cloves, as called for, and garlic powder. The cloves were quite overpowering and I actually (surprisingly) preferred the garlic powder.  And, you know me, I also left out the onions. 


picture from ourbestbites.com

Hot Dogs for Breakfast

Last night the kids had a "late night" with some friends.  They played soccer and built Legos and around 9:20 we decided to put in a movie.  The plan was that the kids could watch a few minutes of the movie then around ten we'd send the neighbor kids home and we'd get to bed. 

The kids were loving the movie, I thought it was pretty lame.  It featured jumpy, awkward camera shots, an antagonist who never materialized into anything more than a burst of wind and some intense music, and a story line that left me scratching my head.  (My punishment for borrowing from the library rather than spending a dollar to get a "real" movie from the Red Box). 

At about 10:15 the plan backfired.  I got the neighbor kids out the door without a hitch.  I watched them cross the street and get into their house safely.  But back inside the house my kids were disappointed that they weren't going to be able to see the rest of the movie.  Normally, I can hold my ground without a problem but there were three factors working against me last night. 

The first is that the boys are off track. When we don't have to worry about school the next day, bedtime becomes a lot less black and white and slides into the gray area. 

The next is that Kedar is out of town.  If he has to be gone for work, I try to do some "fun things" with the kids to make the time go by more quickly for all of us.  Staying up late and finishing the movie seemed to fit into the "fun thing" category.

And the final factor, that ultimately caused me to cave, was the way that they asked.  There was no whining and crying or pleading.  My three children looked up at me with angelic faces and spoke to me to me in loving and polite tones.

So, we were up late last night. 

This morning the kids were unfazed but I was still bushed.  I sat up in bed trying to pull myself out of my sleepy stupor.  Aubrey came tumbling down the stairs and into my room.  Her hair was a curly, early-morning mess and the smile on her face said that she was ready face the day.

"Mom, stay in bed!  I'm gonna get you some food," she said and was in the kitchen slamming cupboards in a blink.

Sitting in my bed this morning, I had an internal struggle.  I could hear the kitchen being summarily trashed and my first thought was to rush in and intervene.  But then I thought about what my daughter was trying to do, how excited she had been to do something nice for me and I resolved to stay put.

She came back into my room holding in one hand, a plate full of irregular slices of hot dog and in the other, two forks.  She clambered up onto the bed with me.  Together we enjoyed a breakfast of cold hot dogs and lots of giggles.

Not a bad way to start the day.     

The History of a Haircut

After Kedar and I had been dating for a couple of months he posed a question that would change the course of my life forever.  My hands shook and my brain raced as I tried to put my answer into words.  I didn't want to say "no" but I wasn't sure that I was ready to say "yes" either.  It was a defining moment in our relationship when he asked me "Will you give me a haircut?"

I finally caved and told him that I would try cutting his hair.  We went into the bathroom with clippers, scissors and Kedar's over-grown hair.  We came out of the bathrom 20 minutes later with tiny splinters of hair covering both of us and an uneven mop on top of his head.

We walked down the stairs and Kedar continued into the kitchen where the family that he was living with sat at the table. I lingered on the bottom step.  Each face turned in our direction and shocked looks turned into stifled snickers as they took in the damage that I had inflicted.  My face burned with humiliation.

I promised myself that I would never cut Kedar's hair again.  Never.

Over eleven years later, there have been only two times, since that first haircut, that Kedar has paid to have someone else cut his hair.  One was for our wedding and the other was about a year ago when our schedule was just too packed to squeeze in a haircut at home.  He went to a Sports Clips on his lunch hour armed with a coupon.

Very few things have stayed the same since that first haircut.  First, I like to think (or at least, I hope) that my skills have improved.  Second, Kedar is no longer the only one at the mercy of my scissors; Conner and Ethan are also my regular customers.  Lastly, there is nobody waiting in the kitchen to laugh at the final results.  If anybody in the house laughs now, they know I will just get even with them the next time they are in need of my services.     

An Exclusive Invitation

This afternoon exclusive event took place. 

The VENUE: A quaint out of the way locale in our hallway near the kitchen.

The GUEST LIST:  An intimate group of A-listers only.  Here the renowned guests are pictured; from left to right they are:

Penguin (the penguin), Maddie, PinkandPurple, Bunny (the bunny), Lollipop, Lollipop's Dad, and Minnie.

 

The MENU:  Local growers provided plastic fruit, watery "tea," and faux desserts.  The lusciously light meal was served on the finest in pastel china. 

The HOSTESS enjoyed herself immensely as she mingled with her guests. 

All in all, this distinguished Tea Party was a smashing success!

I'm Not Proud to Admit

...that yesterday, at this time, this bag was full.

Now, aside from the tantalizing smell of chocolate and peanut butter, it's completely empty.

New and Old Bruises

My foot.

Recently I was making dinner when Aubrey brought a chair up behind me and jumped onto my back.  I was rushing around the kitchen, so I asked her to hop down so that we could get ready to sit up and eat.  She got down but as I was moving away she tried to jump back onto my back again.  I caught her before she fell but in the commotion the chair got knocked over and landed on my foot with a "SLAM!"

OoooWhee!  It hurt.  A.  Lot.  I scrunched my eyes firmly shut.  I pushed the breath out of my mouth and pulled it back in through my nose deliberately, tyring to control the pain by controlling my breathing. 

Ethan was upstairs in his room and heard the noise.  "Mom!  Are you okay!?" he hollered down the stairs (sweet boy).  I couldn't answer right away because I was gritting my teeth to keep from saying something I would regret.  "MOM!  ARE YOU OKAY!?" this time he sounded a little panicked.  "I'm alright," I managed weakly. 

I sat on the kitchen floor and gingerly peeled my sock off.  I was surprised by what I saw; nothing.  There was a little skin that was peeling off of my skinny second toe where the chair had hit the hardest, but that was it.  "Big baby," I accused myself harshly as I pulled my sock back on.  Clearly, I'd made a bigger deal of my injuries than necessary. 

As I got my pajamas on later that night,  I sat on the edge of the bed to reexamine my foot.  The change was impressive.  Purple in every shade ranging from purplish-pink to purplish-brown had creeped across two of my toes.  I felt a strange feeling of justification.  "See?  That did hurt," I told myself.

When I showed my foot to Kedar he reminded me of another bruise that I had over eleven years ago.

After Kedar asked me to marry him we went to get some pictures taken for our wedding announcements.  The family friend who was taking our pictures took us to a beautiful location with streams and gardens and wooden arches.  At one point we came to a big hill with a long cement staircase to the bottom.  Kedar challenged me to race down the hill.  Not one to back down from a challenge I, of course, accepted. 

We both got a good start.  We were taking the stairs one at a time in small, quick strides.  As we reached the halfway point the competition intensified and we started skipping steps.  I took a bad step and lost my footing.  My ankle twisted painfully and I heard a sharp "CRACK!"

This picture was taken two thirds of the way down our racing hill.  If you look carefully you can see that I am favoring my right foot.

Kedar helped me to the bottom of the hill.  As we continued taking pictures I could feel my ankle getting more and more swollen.  By the time we were finishing up I couldn't put any weight on my foot at all, I was completely relying on the firm arm that Kedar wrapped around my waist.  At last we were heading back to the car, to get there we had to climb a steep, rocky incline.  I just couldn't do it.  Kedar ended up carrying me on his back to the car.

My ankle was twice its normal size and black and blue by the time I got home.  For a few days I couldn't get off the couch so Kedar came and helped me when ever he could.  I wore an "air cast" for a couple weeks. 

A bad picture of my ankle after I got home from the doctors after our pictures.

My mom told me later that when she watched Kedar care for me while my ankle was healing, she knew that he would make a gentle and loving husband. 

Heyyyyy.....How's the Sickie?

(what movie?)

Sometimes when my kids say they're sick I wonder if they are actually faking, but this time there's no question. 

Let's examine the evidence, shall we?

#1- "Tinkie" (Aubrey's Tinkerbell blanket hasn't left her side in 48 hrs)

#2- The ladybug pillow pet (the only acceptable pillow when your not feeling well)

#3- The "throw-up bowl"

#4- The blue towel for any, umm... splashes.  Eew.

#5- The fancy "up-do" to keep her hair out of the "throw-up bowl" (#3).

#6- Notice how she's lying on the couch?  Very unusual, most often you would find Aubrey jumping on the couch or flipping off of it.

It's conclusive: We have a sick little girl at our house.  :(

*UPDATE* Silk Dyed Easter Eggs

Yesterday, I wrote about these silk-dyed Easter eggs (originally from Our Best Bites).  I was curious if I could get my eggs to look even better.  So, today I did another batch and here's what I found:

- Instead of gathering the silk around the egg and tying it off at the top, I tried laying the egg on its side and rolling it tightly in the silk (right side still facing toward the egg).  Then I tied both ends off with an elastic.  The result looked a bit like a tootsie roll.  This method was easier for me to get nice and tight.

What do you think?  The picture on the left is from yesterday's bunchy bunch, the photo on the right is from today's tootsie roll bunch.  Both eggs were done using the same tie.     

The egg on the right has better color and the details from the ties design are clearer.  Also, the egg on the right has better coverage and fewer whites spots.

I think they look great!

Let me know if you try it, I'd love to see how yours turn out!

Silk Dyed Easter Eggs

I saw this idea for silk-dyed Easter eggs over at Our Best Bites and I immediately wanted to try it out with the kiddos.  It was so much fun to try something new!  Here's what we did:

- Empty the eggs by carefully poking a hole in the top and bottom of an egg with a safety pin.  Pick at the holes with your pin until they're big enough to fit a small skewer into. Put the skewer into the egg and scramble everything up really good. 

The ladies over at Our Best Bites had the brilliant idea of using a bulb syringe to get the insides out of the egg.  I didn't have one so I did it the old fashioned way.  Kind of like blowing up a balloon, blow all of the gunk out of the egg.  (My kids thought this part was awfully funny.)  Rinse the egg a few times.

- We picked out some of the ugliest ties that we could find from the D.I. (the local thrift store).  Make sure that they are 100% Silk.  Polyester ain't gonna cut it.

-This was another step that the kids loved.  Disassemble the ties.  I just snipped a few of the more obvious seams and then ripped it by hand after that.  When this part is done you'll be left with just the silk.

- Tightly wrap the tie around an egg.  The right side of the tie (the part that faces out if you were wearing it) should be touching the egg.  I used rubber bands and twisty ties to secure them.  They'll look something like this:

- Wrap each of the eggs with a piece of light weight, white fabric. (While I was at the D.I. I also picked up a white sheet.)

- Put all of the little bundles in a pot of boiling water and 1/4 cup vinegar.  They'll boil for about 20 mins.

- After they were done boiling I put them in a colander to drain a bit and cool down.  As soon as they were cool enough to touch I was unwrapping them.  Here's what we found:

Each egg was a surprise.  Some of the them turned out great, a few were a little blah.  It seemed that the reds and blues came out looking the most vibrant.  Some of the ties that I thought would be duds turned out the most beautifully.

So, if you have some old ties lying around or if you end up at a thrift store before Easter give this a try.  The kids had so much fun with it (and so did I)!

*If you decide not to empty the eggs out before dyeing them, don't eat them afterward. The dyes in ties aren't made to be safe to consume.



Inquiring Minds Want to Know

Ethan: "Mom, were there leprachauns when Jesus was alive?"

Turnabout is Fair Play

There are some traits that I don't mind passing on to my kids;  My brown hair?  Fine.  My brown eyes?  No problem.  My second toe is longer than my big toe.  Not a big deal if my kids end up with that either. 

However, there are other traits that I'm not as sure that I want my kids to have;  My fingernails bend when they grow.  I have always disliked this and don't want them to have my deformed fingernails.  My toes creak and pop all the time.  This bugs me whenever I walk down the stairs, I hope they don't have this either (mostly because of the aches that go along with noisy toes).

Then there are some traits I have that it scares me to think that my kids might end up having too.  Recently, I recognized a trait in Conner that has me shaking in my parental boots.

It started as Conner and I sat at the piano together. We had just finished playing a duet of "She'll Be Comin' Around the Mountain" when we had the following conversation.

Me: "Conner, that was really good!  Make sure that you count out loud this time, okay?"

Conner:  Silence.     

Me:  "Conner?  Will you count out loud while we play it again?"

Conner:  Silence.

Me: Deciding to ignore being ignored and move on.  "Okay let's start at the beginning of the song, counting out loud."

We play the first few measures of the song, meanwhile Conner sits silently on the bench next to me.

Me:  "Okay.  Let's stop there and start at the beginning again.  We have to make sure to count out loud so we can stay together and get the timing right.  Okay?"

Conner:  Silence.

Me:  "Conner, do you understand why it's important to count out loud?

Conner:  "Yes."

Me:  "Alright, then, let's start at the beginning and we can count together."

We play the beginning of the song again.

Me:  "One, two, three, four.  One, two, three, four.  One, two, three, four...."

Conner:  Silence.

Me:  "Conner, are you counting?"

Conner:  "No."

Me:  "Why not?"

Conner:  Silence.

At this point, I had a vision of myself, sitting at the same piano in my childhood home.  When I was about 13 I decided that I was done taking piano lessons.  My mom tried her best to convince me to reconsider.

"Kari, you need to practice the piano now," my mom reminded me from the other room.  I put my fingers on the keys and played a stirring rendition of "Chopsticks."   

"Kari, that's not practicing.  Play your scales, okay?"

I said nothing.  Instead, I got up and went to the bathroom.

When I got back to the piano, my mom was waiting for me.  "You need to practice the piano.  Please sit down and play your scales."

I silently sat down and waited for my mom to leave the room.  When she was out of sight I plunked at the keys randomly until I heard her walk into the room again.

"Kari!  What are you doing?"

Silence.

"Please, practice your lesson!" my mom pleaded with me.

Without a word I diligently began practicing my scales... for five minutes, then I left the piano again and went into the kitchen for a drink.

This went on for several months.  My mom tried everything she could think of to get me to practice.  She grounded me, she bribed me, she hid money in the pages of my piano books, nothing worked.  After awhile she gave up and let me quit taking piano lessons.

Generally, I think that I was a pretty good kid.  I was usually very obedient but there were somethings that I would get very stubborn about.  I knew talking back would get me into trouble so instead I said nothing at all.  When my mind was made up my parents knew it because I became unusually quite, and no amount of convincing would change my mind.

My mind returned to the scene in front of me.  I looked over at my son who was staring silently ahead at the blank wall above the piano and I felt a bead of cold sweat run down the back of my neck.


What traits, good or bad, have you passed on to your children?  Tell me about it.

It Started with a Phone Call

This afternoon when the phone rang I was tempted to let it go to my voicemail, on the last ring I changed my mind. 

"Hello?"

"Hi.  This is Susan from the elementary school, is this Ethan's mom?" asked the woman on the other end.

"Yes..." I answered slowly, a call from the school during the middle of the day is never a good thing.

"Ummm. Ethan is going to need you to bring him a whole new set of clothes, he bonked his lip and he's got blood all over these ones."

"Blood?  Is he okay?"

"Well, he's calmed down now but you might want to just come and judge for yourself."

I had a feeling that I wasn't getting the whole story.

I pulled up to the school a few minutes later and ran to the front door, that's when I realized that in my rush I had forgotten the change of clothes.  Well, I'm not going home now, I thought as I pushed through the double doors.

I hurried into the front office and scanned the blue chairs for my son, they were all empty so I turned my attention to the woman behind the desk. "Is Ethan here?"  My face must have been a reflection of the anxiety I was feeling.  As she quickly stood up and escorted me to a small room she spoke to me in a soothing voice saying meaningless phrases like, "We're not completely sure what happened.  He won't really say much."  Honestly, I was barely listening to what she was saying, I just wanted to see my son.  Ethan wears his emotions on his sleeve, seeing his face would answer all of the questions jangling in my head; How badly is he hurt?  Is he scared?  Is he upset?  Does he need to come home? 

She opened the door and there he was holding a bloody paper towel to his mouth.  The front of his blue sweatshirt was a dark inky color that doesn't have a name.  He looked up at my face and that's when I melted.  He was trying so hard to be brave but his little chin quivered and his eyes brimmed with tears.  I sat next to my little boy and held him close.  I didn't notice his blood dripping onto my pants, "It's okay," I said over and over while he cried.

After a minute I tried to figure out where the blood was coming from.  First, I looked at his lips,  Hadn't somebody said his lip was bleeding?  There were no cuts on his lips.  Nothing on his nose either.  While I looked him over I asked him what had happened.  With a mouth that barely opened he mumbled, "Well... I don't remember...ummm... actually I ran into to someone."  His answer was less than satisfactory, I could see he wasn't ready to talk about it.  But when he spoke I got a better idea of where he was bleeding; inside his mouth.  I had him open up and saw that the gums above his front teeth were the source of all the bleeding and his teeth were both pushed further back into his mouth than their natural position.  Oh, boy.  I need to call the dentist. 

I signed the bright pink paper to get him out of school for the rest of the day. 

As soon as I got into the car I picked up my cell phone and dialed the dentist's office.  When they answered I explained the situation as well as I could (despite my asking again Ethan still wasn't saying much about what happened).  The friendly receptionist asked how quickly I could be to their office.

After a quick stop off at our house to change Ethan into some clean clothes, we were on our way to the dentist's.  When we got there Dr. DeHart saw Ethan right away.  He was kind and reassuring, just what Ethan needed.  When the dentist asked him what had happened, Ethan didn't say a word.  Dr. D didn't press the issue but looked at me with a raised eyebrow, I could only shrug my shoulders.  As it turns out Ethan's 4 front teeth (all of them permanent) are loose and were moved back by the "bonk" he received.  The good news?  None of his teeth were chipped or cracked.

The next week or so will be full of soft foods, ice cream (all he wants the dentist reassured) and lots of very mellow activities (wrestling was expressly forbidden).  Other than that, there's really nothing to be done but wait and watch.  Hopefully his teeth will heal nicely and move themselves back to where they should be.

So, what happened?  On the way home from the dentist's office Ethan was finally ready to talk about it.  At recess Ethan was playing freeze-tag with a group of kids.  He was being chased by the person who was "it."  While he ran at full speed he looked over his shoulder and hit mouth to head with a girl who was running toward him at her top speed.  When I asked how the little girl was Ethan replied.  "She cried for awhile but I think she's okay.  But mom, just so you know, I was running faster than her."  Several times during the ride home he reiterated, "Mom, I was running just a bit faster than her," or,"She was running pretty fast, mom, but not as fast as me."

It's important, in situations like this, that you know the most critical facts like who the faster runner is.

Mixing Church and State

I love to hear my kids sing the Primary songs that they learn in church each Sunday.  There are beautiful messages within the simple words and melodies.  But sometimes the words can be tricky for their little mouths to pronounce or for their busy brains to remember.

Recently they learned the song "I'm trying to be like Jesus."

I'm trying to be like Jesus.
I'm following in His ways.
I'm trying to be like Jesus,
In all that I do and say.

This morning Ethan was stomping around the house doing his jobs and singing this song.  He was singing with gusto, the rhythm of the song matching the marching rhythm of his steps.  I smiled as I listened to him.  When I gave my full attention to the words my son was singing this is what I heard:

I'm trying to be like Jesus!
I'll follow the USA! 

Maybe I'd better teach him the right words before the kids sing in front of the entire congregation for the Primary program.

Hidden Treasure

I was tucking Aubrey into bed last night and she looked up at me with a mischevious grin. 

"I know a secret," she said. 

"What's the secret?" I asked.

She looked around the room, deciding if she should tell me or not.  She finally whispered so quietly that I had to lean toward her to hear, "Me and Ethan hid something."

"What did you hide?" I whispered back.

Apparently this was a question she wouldn't answer.  I could tell by the stubborn look on her face that she would never tell me what they hid, so, I tried another approach, "Where did you hide it?"

She giggled behind her little hand, "In my closet!"

I walked over to her closet and slid open the door.  Immediately, I could see something was amiss.  All of the stuffed anmials had been piled into the back corner.  I bent down and moved them one by one.  First, Minnie Mouse, then Baby Jo Jo, followed by Puppy and Lollipop, until I saw what my kids had carefully stowed away.  An 80 oz jar of pickle juice was nestled in the back of the closet with every stuffed animal in our house standing sentinel.  I put my hand over my mouth, both out of disbelief and to hide the smile that was growing there.

When I pulled the jar out of the closet, I turned to Aubrey and held it up with a questioning look.  She just laughed and laughed in her contagious way that makes it nearly impossible not to laugh right along with her.

"What happened to all the pickles?" 

"Me and Ethan ate the last ones, then we were taking turns drinking out of the side of the jar!" she explained like it was the best thing she had ever taken part in.

I was still smiling and shaking my head in disbelief as I walked down the stairs after I had kissed her cheek and told her good night.  I hid the massive jar behind my back the best that I could then walked into my bedroom where Kedar was getting ready for bed.

"Guess what Ethan and Aubrey hid in her closet today?" I asked.