Childhood flies . . .

Some things we only have one chance at in life . . . like blowing bubbles in our milk.

Snips and Snails . . .

Lucky frog . . . poor frog.  I'm not sure which. 

Oh wait . . . the kids are now looking over my shoulder, reminding me that they saved the frog from being run over on our driveway.  

Wilbur

Meet Wilbur.

He's a pig. . .  well . . . was a pig. 

This picture is from before my blog's inception, but sometimes I go back and find gems.

Wilbur was part of Morgan's science expo project a couple of years ago.  Her friend purchased him at a local farmer's market.  By the time we got to work on the science project, the pig had sat in her fridge for a whole week--long enough to earn a name.  Morgan's goal was to put teeth in various solutions, such as coffee, tea, and soda, and then watch what happened to the teeth.

No problem, right?  Nope.  It turns out that the teeth of a slaughtered, refrigerated pig are not that easy to remove.  In fact, it may well be that teeth of a live pig are just as hard to remove--I don't know.  I haven't tried it lately. . . . but these teeth were terrible.  We tried to use pliers, and the teeth would just crumble like a piece of wet chalk.  After digging around the gums like a dentist does, I did manage to extract couple of intact teeth.  

After that we tried to dissect the eye, but it was surprisingly even harder to remove.  

The end conclusion of the project:  coffee, tea, and soda all stain teeth. . . . big surprise.

Thank you, Wilbur, for donating your head to third grade science.  

Dermatographic urticaria

That is my arm.  I used my fingernail to scratch the word hives on my arm.  I have a "disorder" called dermatographic urticaria.  I would have never even known this was a disorder, except that once I was at the pediatrician's office with one of my children.  I had just scratched my arm, and the physician took one look and asked if I had poison ivy.  When I told him it wasn't poison ivy, but the result of my scratching, he was pretty excited to tell me what was wrong with me.  Someone had come into one of his medical school classes to demonstrate this "disorder."

If you are interested in learning a useless but interesting tidbit, you can read more at the following address:

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dermatographic_urticaria

In short, any scratch causes my skin to release histamines.  It's not really a big deal. 

Snips and Snails . . . or Snakes

We like to study wildlife in our family.  I think I learned to be relaxed about this from my mother, who I remember often getting down on the ground to point out some interesting biological tidbit.  

So . . . beetles . . . snakes . . . frogs.  You name it.  We find it.  

Here's a snake . . . a worm snake.  These look just like worms, until you pick them up.  They're harmless though the do try to poke you with their pointy, but harmless, tails.  You can read more about them at this website:  http://www.uga.edu/srelherp/snakes/caramo.htm

Jackie is often the first to discover creepy crawlies.

Sometimes Henry is the first.  Both kids really like creepy crawlies. (I admit, I kind of enjoy them too, even at my age) !

The preschool teacher was really excited when Henry turned up with this habitat, snake and all.

Thank goodness for good sales and coupons.  Fortunately, I always have a lot of these containers on hand, because they can sure disappear quickly. 

Another New Hair Cut

Remember my post about kids and hair cuts?  . . . 

But how about this one--Anika accidentally chopped her hair with the electric razor as she was shaving her legs.

As she sheepishly showed us, she knew she was a shoo-in for my blog.

Congratulations, Anika!

Fortunately, this newly mowed hair hides completely under her bangs.

Despite the little hair cut, Anika gets more and more amazing to me every day.  What happened to our little girl?   Who is this more and more responsible, hard working girl?  Someone I'm enjoying getting to know!

Fresh Strawed

We rarely buy orange juice.  It's only because my ob-gyn recently discovered that my Vitamin D reserves are "extremely low," that I suddenly felt prompted to buy some fortified orange juice for our family.   They don't drink much milk, except for the strawberry milk at school, which somehow tastes better.

Tonight I got out the OJ at dinner.  Only Henry drank it.

At one point he said, pointing at the OJ carton:  "Mom, do we have any of these?"

Me:  "Any of what?"

Henry:  "The real ones of these?"

Me, totally excited that my son might actually want to eat an orange without being forced to:  "You want a real orange?"

I have a large box of mouth-watering oranges from Costco, so I jump up to get him one.

Henry:  "Mom, I want to use a straw . . . and get the juice from the orange like this."

Easter (belated)

I know it's way past Easter, but here are some fun pictures from our Easter.

Morgan blowing out eggs . . . if I were really good, I'd have taken pictures of the finished product!

Got this idea when I visited Great Harvest.  My bunny was much less expensive.

This was the only "complicated" thing I made for our Easter Dinner.  I don't believe in spending any more time than I have to on cooking anymore.  Not when the Lord gave us wonderful things like broccoli and strawberries!  

Not sure why I'm including this picture.
It is kind of interesting though:  if you look really closely it may reveal something about my personality.  
Or about the fact that we're living the student life.  

Who cares about broccoli, right?  I just thought the picture was kind of cool with the steam. . . . 

And yep,  just enjoying my camera again.    Love the shine on the strawberries.
If that were real sugar on them, I think you might see the crystals . . . probably was Splenda.

Bessie

I think I've mentioned before that my kids like to catch things.  And keep them.   For a little while at least.   Long enough that I usually feel a little bad about it.

In the backyard, we have a wood pile and a fire circle.   Long ago we put small logs around the fire circle to be used as seats. One day as I propped up some logs against these seats so I could chop kindling for a camping trip, I missed (dreadfully), and my ax slammed down on the log. The rotten log broke apart, exposing a host of interesting insects.  Henry and Jackie, excited, picked through it.  There they discovered a bess beetle, which immediately became their newest pet.  They put it in a disposable plastic container with a few twigs, some grass, a tiny puddle of water, and no lid, and played with it until we left for our camping trip.

It wasn't until we were half an hour away and locked in the campsite, that I remembered that that beetle was still lounging in his habitat, lid free, on our kitchen counter.  What's the worst that could happen?, I thought.  (I think that a lot.)  This is a pretty big beetle, so the thought of it roaming freely in our house wasn't comfortable, but I can think of other bugs I like less and see more.  The bess beetle is really kind of cute--it makes a hissing (or some call it kissing) sound when handled.

The next day, we came home to find the habitat vacated--no bess beetle in sight.

Several hours after we returned home, we finally found Bessie.  She was lodged in the carpet in our family room right in the middle of the highest traffic area.  I had probably walked by her a dozen times already on my way to put away camping gear.  Removing Bessie from the carpet was exactly like removing a tick from someone's skin.  She just didn't want to let go.  So I gently pulled for about five minutes before she finally let go of the carpet, taking a few fibers with her.

I'm generally pretty tolerant of fun things like beetles in the house.  But Bessie went right back home to her rotten log, where within seconds she disappeared.

Lodged in the carpet

Amazon . . .

That's me with the short hair in the air.

I sat tonight on my computer and thought that it was about time I write on my blog again.  So I turned to Morgan, who was sitting intently beside me, and said, "Let's look for a picture to write about."  

I've had some questions and comments about my blogger name--Amazon Mama.  Truthfully, I really tried to come up with a cute idea to match the other bloggers out there, but only Amazon, an old nickname, came to mind.   Amazon was a short-lived nickname I had in high school--by short lived, I mean, I think only a few volleyball games.   Some of our high school boys would yell out "Amazon," or something like that, when I hit the ball.  

This didn't stick past volleyball season . . . except in my own mind.  I fancied myself a really tough girl, a warrior . . . an Amazon . . .

Yes . . . you can laugh.  Please do.  It's so great for your stomach muscles . . . 

The Amazons are a piece of greek mythology--a group of warrior women.  You can read about them here:  http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Amazons  I find the mythology fascinating.  I'm not a fan of war, or fighting, but there's something about their ferociousness I always liked.  And I could relate doing some of the things considered less feminine--working with a chainsaw, mowing lawns, pushing a wheelbarrow, weightlifting.  To this day, I'd rather mow the lawn with a push mower than bake, sew, or clean.    

The funny thing is that I sometimes feel I was a much tougher volleyball player than mother.  Motherhood is much more difficult than anything I've ever done before.  So I think I applied the name to myself because motherhood is tough, and I'd better be as tenacious as an Amazon to survive.