Family Rules

We really do have a few rules.  One is, "We only eat in the kitchen."  

But here's my rule I repeat the most:  

"No growing up."  

Unfortunately, the kids break that rule all the time.  

Me as a kid

Which one is me?  (hint:  not the boy on the bottom left.)

Sounds

Today Henry slapped me randomly on my neck.

"Ouch," I responded, making a sad face.  "That hurt."

"Oh sorry, mom," Henry apologized, sincerely.  "I like sounds."

Hmmm . . .

Parenting: Touching the Hearts of Our Youth

I love this video.   

Parenting: Touching the Hearts of Our Youth

Snails

I was just looking through some old pictures.  

Thought I'd post this for your entertainment.

 Henry was a few weeks shy of turning three years old when he created this masterpiece.  I left a permanent blue marker in front seat of the car that fateful day. 

Courtesy of Henry Willis

The other seat looked the same.  I removed the marker from one seat with rubbing alcohol.  I started removing it from this seat also, when I stopped to take a picture.  

Then I decided (correctly) that this might only happen once in my lifetime, so I left the marker there, meaning to enjoy it a little while and then remove it eventually.  And of course, I took a picture.   This artwork remains on the seat today, though it has faded to the point that it's barely noticeable.  It was one of those terrible, beautiful moments in motherhood that I never want to forget.

Domesticated

I came back from vacation a few weeks ago ready to be domesticated.  For now at least.  I started a menu.  I chose some new recipes.  I've finished my laundry, though my ironing pile is still a couple of feet tall.   I'm thinking about making some new curtains.  All this is the result of visiting my sister and sister-in-law, who have nearly perfect homes and families.  Or, at least, so it seemed. 

I'm not perfect.  And you shouldn't feel bad if you aren't either.   My mother always said to do your best.  She didn't say to be perfect. 

More on domestication later . . . maybe . . . if it lasts. 

Tobacco Fields

Just one quick story . . .

We visited Oregon for a couple of weeks this month.  While there, we drove through what seemed like endless fields of brown grass fields and an occasional green field.  We passed one corn field.  The stalks were young, only a couple of feet tall. 

I turned and asked the kids what they thought that crop was. 

Morgan was quick to reply, "Tobacco fields." 

I guess I find that interesting because I'm pretty sure I didn't even know that tobacco was a plant until the past few years. 

Blog Problems . . . .

I have really enjoyed blogging . . . until I started having a problem with my Cutest Blog on the Block background.  You can't even see the words on my last blog.  Aaarggh.   Please forgive my technical incompetence.

Hopefully at some point I'll have it fixed for real.  In the meantime, instead of my picture at the right is a reminder of the wasted time I've spent trying to fix my blog.  Better than it was.