I have to come up with TEN things I want for Christmas. Ten. I never think about my Christmas list because I am so busy trying to figure out what to get everyone else so this may be tough.
1.Chapstick. I am always losing my chapstick. Put some in my pocket--gone. Put some in the car--gone. Where does it all go?
2. Rice Cooker. I have one but it only cooks about 5 cups of rice at a time. Meaning I can dump in 2 1/2 cups and out comes 5 or so. I need one that cooks 10 cups of rice, like this one.
3. A Black Hole. Wouldn't it be nice to have somewhere to throw all that unwanted stuff? Instead of putting things in my "Garage sale that I am never going to have" pile or my "Someday I will make it to Goodwill" pile, or even my "Gee, I really should join Freecycle" pile--I could just toss it in the Black Hole, never to be seen or thought of again.
4. Haircut. I know this isn't really a good item for the list, but it is MY list and I want a haircut. So there.
5. Purse. I need a new purse. Maybe something more like a handbag. Small enough to not be mistaken for a diaper bag, yet big enough for my wallet, phone, chapstick (hopefully I will get some for Christmas), tissues...maybe I do need a purse. A smallish one.
6. Tortilla Press. Handmade tortillas are faboo, really, but believe me when I say I will never make them again without a TORTILLA PRESS!
7. Time. I would like 5-10 hours a week to work on projects uninterrupted. One day a week with no one around to ask for things. I have good kids that aren't super demanding, but they need things. And they bicker.
8. Watch. Speaking of time, I would like to be able to keep track of it. I haven't had a watch for a couple of years and I miss it.
9. Books. I like to read. I like books. I like owning books. I like choosing books to read. I would also like some bookshelves for the books.
10. Whirled Peas. Please, stop the violins.
Hey that's ten! I wasn't done! What about the sewing/craft room? The duct tape? The new car? The extra large roasting pan for my extra large turkeys? Actually that particular roasting pan (in the link) is over $400 and won't fit in my oven. This one will work better. Thank you, Santa.
Cathy's Tuesday Ten
Tuesday, November 28, 2006
Monday, November 27, 2006
Friday, November 24, 2006
Pig Wrangling
Is there such a thing? I don't know, but there should be. Oh, how I wish I had gotten a picture, but somehow I turned the camera ON when I thought I was turning it OFF, so it hadn't been turned ON when I thought it was. So no pictures.
The pig yard has turned into a swamp and it is even wet and knee-deep muddy inside the shelter area. So we decided in interest of the pig's health (I wondered aloud how long it would take me to get sick if I had to sleep in a mud puddle) to move them into the barn.
What is the best way to move pigs from one place to another?
I would say herd them. Apparently my husband has a different idea. He lassoed the pigs one at a time and dragged them to the barn. LASSOED THEM. With a ROPE. Oh, how I wish I had a picture. He was muddy from head to toe. And stinky. Remember that brown stuff in the pig pen is not just mud.
You would have thought those pigs were being dragged to their deaths. The thrashing and squealing and carrying on was incredible. We just wanted to make them all comfortable and cozy inside a stall full of hay instead of leaving them belly deep in mud all day and night. But I guess that wasn't clear when my husband slung a rope around neck/chest/wherever handy, and started hauling them across the wet field, through a really huge puddle, and into a dark barn.
The piggies are happy now, snuffling in the dry hay. One was itching his backside on the wall when I left. I am sure they will have made a huge mess by tomorrow, but at least they will be warm and dry. They only have another month or so before they head to the butcher so we will make them as comfortable as possible.
The pig yard has turned into a swamp and it is even wet and knee-deep muddy inside the shelter area. So we decided in interest of the pig's health (I wondered aloud how long it would take me to get sick if I had to sleep in a mud puddle) to move them into the barn.
What is the best way to move pigs from one place to another?
I would say herd them. Apparently my husband has a different idea. He lassoed the pigs one at a time and dragged them to the barn. LASSOED THEM. With a ROPE. Oh, how I wish I had a picture. He was muddy from head to toe. And stinky. Remember that brown stuff in the pig pen is not just mud.
You would have thought those pigs were being dragged to their deaths. The thrashing and squealing and carrying on was incredible. We just wanted to make them all comfortable and cozy inside a stall full of hay instead of leaving them belly deep in mud all day and night. But I guess that wasn't clear when my husband slung a rope around neck/chest/wherever handy, and started hauling them across the wet field, through a really huge puddle, and into a dark barn.
The piggies are happy now, snuffling in the dry hay. One was itching his backside on the wall when I left. I am sure they will have made a huge mess by tomorrow, but at least they will be warm and dry. They only have another month or so before they head to the butcher so we will make them as comfortable as possible.
Monday, November 20, 2006
Tuesday Ten #1
Cathy and I are going to try doing a weekly Tuesday Ten. This week's topic: Things For Which I am Thankful. You can read hers here. Here I go...
"I'd like to thank God, my mother, and my father; without all of whom I would not be here on this earth...My husband--you're my rock, honey...My 8 kids, without them I just couldn't go on living...My sister, who always listens to my troubles...My other sister, who laughs at my jokes...My friends--you know who you are--you rock! Thank you, thank you!"
Ahem. Now that I got that out of my system...
Ten Things For Which I Am Really Thankful
1. Toilet Paper. The dude that came up with TP totally rocks.
2. Convenience Foods. Hey, I like to feed my family healthy, just like anyone else, but there are times when a corn dog is the only way to go.
3. Gravity. This needs no explanation. Can you imagine a life where you are always having to bolt things down? "Where's the dog, honey?" "I dunno, maybe he floated away." Sheesh. No thanks.
4. Pencils. Pencil marks are much easier to clean off of the walls than pen marks. Love them.
5. Plastic Diapers. I don't use them often (for the baby, wiseacre), but I love the fact that I can if I want to.
6. Sippy Cups. I would be cleaning juice off of the ceiling on a daily basis without this wonderful invention.
7. Clothes. Glad I have 'em--and so is everyone else, I am sure.
8. Showers. Baths are great for kids, but I have no desire to sit in dirty water. Plus I always make the water too hot, then I get sweaty and need a shower afterward anyway.
9. Pillows. So comfy, so cozy. Love my pillows.
10. My family. Yeah, yeah, yeah. I guess I have to include my family. "Family" means everyone mentioned above, including their husbands, wives, boyfriends(where appropriate), and offspring. I love you all.
"I'd like to thank God, my mother, and my father; without all of whom I would not be here on this earth...My husband--you're my rock, honey...My 8 kids, without them I just couldn't go on living...My sister, who always listens to my troubles...My other sister, who laughs at my jokes...My friends--you know who you are--you rock! Thank you, thank you!"
Ahem. Now that I got that out of my system...
1. Toilet Paper. The dude that came up with TP totally rocks.
2. Convenience Foods. Hey, I like to feed my family healthy, just like anyone else, but there are times when a corn dog is the only way to go.
3. Gravity. This needs no explanation. Can you imagine a life where you are always having to bolt things down? "Where's the dog, honey?" "I dunno, maybe he floated away." Sheesh. No thanks.
4. Pencils. Pencil marks are much easier to clean off of the walls than pen marks. Love them.
5. Plastic Diapers. I don't use them often (for the baby, wiseacre), but I love the fact that I can if I want to.
6. Sippy Cups. I would be cleaning juice off of the ceiling on a daily basis without this wonderful invention.
7. Clothes. Glad I have 'em--and so is everyone else, I am sure.
8. Showers. Baths are great for kids, but I have no desire to sit in dirty water. Plus I always make the water too hot, then I get sweaty and need a shower afterward anyway.
9. Pillows. So comfy, so cozy. Love my pillows.
10. My family. Yeah, yeah, yeah. I guess I have to include my family. "Family" means everyone mentioned above, including their husbands, wives, boyfriends(where appropriate), and offspring. I love you all.
Turkey Day
Yesterday I butchered the turkeys. I will spare you the gory details--it is a lot like chickens except there is more blood and guts.
The turkeys were a little big. I have mentioned before that I purchased them too soon. Well, a few weeks ago one of them died so I weighed it. It weighed 17 lbs and didn't look that much smaller than the rest, so I thought I was doing pretty good. I told my mother-in-law not to worry, they won't be too big.
Huh. My first clue should have been when my husband came huffing and puffing into the barn with the first turkey. One of the smallest ones. "My, he sure is out of shape," I thought. He used the wheelbarrow to cart the rest of them in, one at a time.
My second clue should have been when I couldn't lift them in and out of the scalder water or the plucker (which didn't work very well, but it did help). My wonderful husband had to do that part too.
The last clue(at which time I was becoming rather nervous) was when the only way I could pick up the turkeys to weigh them was to scoop them up with both arms and stagger over to the scale.
The smallest turkey weighed 26 lb., 14oz. Then 27-6, 27-12, 29-14. After that I had to use my bathroom scale because they were bottoming out the other one. They weighed 31.5, 32, and 32.5 pounds. And the big tom turkey?
Yeah him. He weighed over 42 pounds. I am hoping he will fit in my oven. If not, I guess I can cut him up.
He looks a little funky in this picture, but really, he is fine.
Compared to a 27# turkey
Compared to a chicken
Oh, I hope people still want these turkeys. We took them up to the ranch last night to put them in the refridgerator. The price gets a little daunting with a 30+# turkey, I think. I know at least one person won't buy one if they are too big, but I am hoping everyone else will have visions of wonderful leftover turkey for the freezer. If not, I have visions of some wonderful turkeys for my freezer.
Next year, I am DEFINATELY not getting turkeys in April.
The turkeys were a little big. I have mentioned before that I purchased them too soon. Well, a few weeks ago one of them died so I weighed it. It weighed 17 lbs and didn't look that much smaller than the rest, so I thought I was doing pretty good. I told my mother-in-law not to worry, they won't be too big.
Huh. My first clue should have been when my husband came huffing and puffing into the barn with the first turkey. One of the smallest ones. "My, he sure is out of shape," I thought. He used the wheelbarrow to cart the rest of them in, one at a time.
My second clue should have been when I couldn't lift them in and out of the scalder water or the plucker (which didn't work very well, but it did help). My wonderful husband had to do that part too.
The last clue(at which time I was becoming rather nervous) was when the only way I could pick up the turkeys to weigh them was to scoop them up with both arms and stagger over to the scale.
The smallest turkey weighed 26 lb., 14oz. Then 27-6, 27-12, 29-14. After that I had to use my bathroom scale because they were bottoming out the other one. They weighed 31.5, 32, and 32.5 pounds. And the big tom turkey?
Yeah him. He weighed over 42 pounds. I am hoping he will fit in my oven. If not, I guess I can cut him up.
Oh, I hope people still want these turkeys. We took them up to the ranch last night to put them in the refridgerator. The price gets a little daunting with a 30+# turkey, I think. I know at least one person won't buy one if they are too big, but I am hoping everyone else will have visions of wonderful leftover turkey for the freezer. If not, I have visions of some wonderful turkeys for my freezer.
Next year, I am DEFINATELY not getting turkeys in April.
Saturday, November 18, 2006
My sister made me do it.
My sister, Cathy, thought I would like filling out this meme. Originally, it came from Kate's Book Blog. Here goes:
1. How old were you when you learned to read and who taught you? My mom taught me to read. I must have been about 4. I know that I already knew how to read when I got to Kindergarten.
2. Did you own any books as a child? If so, what’s the first one that you remember owning? If not, do you recall any of the first titles that you borrowed from the library? I don't think we had a huge amount of books--I had a small bookshelf in my bedroom but there weren't a lot of books on it. We went to the library often so we must not have bought a lot of books. We had a Dick and Jane reader that I used when learning to read. Also a Children's Dictionary (which I still have) that I would try to read cover to cover but I don't remember ever finishing it.
3. What’s the first book that you bought with your own money? I loved those little Weekly Reader magazines that I got at school. I know I bought books from those but I don't remember any particular titles.
4. Were you a re-reader as a child? If so, which book did you re-read most often? NO. I have never liked re-reading. I only watch movies once also. There are not very many books that I have re-read: The Hobbit (4 times!), Bedknobs & Broomsticks, all of the Mrs. Piggle-Wiggle books are some.
5. What’s the first adult book that captured your interest and how old were you when you read it? To be honest, I never read any adult books until I was well into my 20s. I checked out books from the teenager section of the library. I had tried a few times to get adult books but couldn't find anything that captured my attention. Then my mom introduced me to Ellis Peters' Brother Cadfael books. From there I went on to Elizabeth Peters' Amelia Peabody books(right next to Ellis Peters on the library shelf) and that was all she wrote, so to speak. My current favorite authors are Jasper Fforde and Alexander McCall Smith.
6. Are there children’s books that you passed by as a child that you have learned to love as an adult? Which ones? I could never get into any books by Marguerite Henry. They were just boring to me. I have read several as an adult and enjoyed them all. Justin Morgan had a Horse is my favorite. Also, I tried and tried to read the Lord of the Rings series but could never get past the first few pages. I read them a few years ago (before I saw the movies) and loved them.
1. How old were you when you learned to read and who taught you? My mom taught me to read. I must have been about 4. I know that I already knew how to read when I got to Kindergarten.
2. Did you own any books as a child? If so, what’s the first one that you remember owning? If not, do you recall any of the first titles that you borrowed from the library? I don't think we had a huge amount of books--I had a small bookshelf in my bedroom but there weren't a lot of books on it. We went to the library often so we must not have bought a lot of books. We had a Dick and Jane reader that I used when learning to read. Also a Children's Dictionary (which I still have) that I would try to read cover to cover but I don't remember ever finishing it.
3. What’s the first book that you bought with your own money? I loved those little Weekly Reader magazines that I got at school. I know I bought books from those but I don't remember any particular titles.
4. Were you a re-reader as a child? If so, which book did you re-read most often? NO. I have never liked re-reading. I only watch movies once also. There are not very many books that I have re-read: The Hobbit (4 times!), Bedknobs & Broomsticks, all of the Mrs. Piggle-Wiggle books are some.
5. What’s the first adult book that captured your interest and how old were you when you read it? To be honest, I never read any adult books until I was well into my 20s. I checked out books from the teenager section of the library. I had tried a few times to get adult books but couldn't find anything that captured my attention. Then my mom introduced me to Ellis Peters' Brother Cadfael books. From there I went on to Elizabeth Peters' Amelia Peabody books(right next to Ellis Peters on the library shelf) and that was all she wrote, so to speak. My current favorite authors are Jasper Fforde and Alexander McCall Smith.
6. Are there children’s books that you passed by as a child that you have learned to love as an adult? Which ones? I could never get into any books by Marguerite Henry. They were just boring to me. I have read several as an adult and enjoyed them all. Justin Morgan had a Horse is my favorite. Also, I tried and tried to read the Lord of the Rings series but could never get past the first few pages. I read them a few years ago (before I saw the movies) and loved them.
Friday, November 17, 2006
Over the Hill
No, I am not referring to that certain someone who will be turning 40 in 10 days.
snicker
My middle daughter (11) and I are heading over the Santiam Pass to Redmond this afternoon to go stay the night with Great-grandma. She (daughter, not GG) has a gymnastics meet in Bend in the morning at 8AM so we thought it would be better to go this afternoon rather than brave the cold, possibly icy conditions at 6 in the morning.
This was the pass as of 12:01pm--dry pavement with no precipitation--so I think we are good to go.
snicker
My middle daughter (11) and I are heading over the Santiam Pass to Redmond this afternoon to go stay the night with Great-grandma. She (daughter, not GG) has a gymnastics meet in Bend in the morning at 8AM so we thought it would be better to go this afternoon rather than brave the cold, possibly icy conditions at 6 in the morning.
This was the pass as of 12:01pm--dry pavement with no precipitation--so I think we are good to go.
Wednesday, November 15, 2006
Paper Mache
Ah, messy crafts. The thought is enough to make me cringe, grit my teeth, and have chills up and down my spine all at once. As a child I hated getting my hands messy. Play in the mud? Never. Squish up ingredients for meatloaf? Ewww. This problem seems to have carried over into adulthood.
So when I looked at the assignment list for my boys a few Fridays ago and saw "make masks" I cringed. Maybe we will skip this one, I thought. At that moment, my 9 year old son said, "We get to make masks today!"
Crud.
I pointed out the other option--make a railroad spike out of cardboard and tin foil--and was met with silence.
Double crud.
Sigh. FINE, we will make masks. From paper mache, the ultimate in messiness. It was rainy out so we had to do it inside, no less. This was a history project (our sorry attempt at something resembling a Noh mask)for the 7 and 9 year old boys but 3 others wanted to join in.
The bowl of doom
We used 2 parts water to 1 part flour. It is important to stir the mixture every so often while you are working with it.
Deep breaths, I will be calm... Please stop waving your paint brush around like a flag!
Oh, all right! I will admit it, it was fun. The mess wasn't too awful, especially since my oldest daughter did hers after everyone else and did most of the cleaning up. They didn't come out anything like they were "supposed" to, but they all put their own personal touches on their masks.
So when I looked at the assignment list for my boys a few Fridays ago and saw "make masks" I cringed. Maybe we will skip this one, I thought. At that moment, my 9 year old son said, "We get to make masks today!"
Crud.
I pointed out the other option--make a railroad spike out of cardboard and tin foil--and was met with silence.
Double crud.
Sigh. FINE, we will make masks. From paper mache, the ultimate in messiness. It was rainy out so we had to do it inside, no less. This was a history project (our sorry attempt at something resembling a Noh mask)for the 7 and 9 year old boys but 3 others wanted to join in.
We used 2 parts water to 1 part flour. It is important to stir the mixture every so often while you are working with it.
Deep breaths, I will be calm... Please stop waving your paint brush around like a flag!
Oh, all right! I will admit it, it was fun. The mess wasn't too awful, especially since my oldest daughter did hers after everyone else and did most of the cleaning up. They didn't come out anything like they were "supposed" to, but they all put their own personal touches on their masks.
Friday, November 10, 2006
Shopping
Every year my oldest daughter makes a Christmas list. Not for herself, but a list of people she wants to give gifts to. Not only does she want to give gifts to all of the people in our family--aunts(3), uncles(3ish), cousins(11), grandpas(4), grandmas(4), brothers(5), sisters(2), parents(2)--she also feels the need to MAKE most of them.
She starts by making Christmas cards for each and every person on her list--all different. She is usually done with them by mid-October. Then she pours for hours over her craft books, both borrowed from the library and ones she owns, to find the perfect gift for each person.
(I often wonder what is going through her head at this time, since last year one of her uncles ended up with an elephant ring toss. The elephant's trunk was the ring catcher.)
Then she makes the List. This is the part I dread, because this is where I have to become involved.
Beginning of negativity...
Mostly I stay out of the whole thing, so if anyone has an issue with tacky homemade Christmas gifts, I am not the person to take it up with. You should have seen what I ended up with last year. I love her and I love her heart to give and create, blahdy blah, but I hate tacky. So if your gift is tacky, IT IS NOT MY FAULT. My suggestion is to grin and bear it and hopefully the quality will improve over time.
End (hopefully) of negativity...
A few days ago she came to me and asked when I could take her shopping. She had her list all ready to go. Since I had known this day was coming I had already decided on a day. That day was yesterday. After I made her rewrite her list in a more orderly fashion so we didn't have to wander from one end of the store and back again, we left to go shopping. We decided to go to Walmart first, then hit the craft store and fabric store for the rest.
My daughter is very secretive about the gifts she is making for others. She doesn't like to share. So it makes it hard for me to help her. For instance, her list said "bell." What kind of bell? I asked. Hmm, she didn't remember. Is it a jingle bell, or the other kind?--gritting my teeth. Well, maybe jingle bell, she guesses. Metal pieces? What kind of metal pieces. It's not like you can walk into the store and say "where are your metal pieces?" A cork? Where in the heck is the cork section in Walmart?
Oh, and slow? Oh. My. It was all I could do not to grab the list out of her hand and rush through the store throwing things in the cart. We were in Walmart for over an hour. Ever seen those poor little kids at the store with their moms, following her around--arms hanging down, shuffling their feet, whining "when are you going to be done?"-- that was me. I was so done shopping after the first five minutes.
Okay, so I didn't really do that. But I wanted to.
What a sweet girl. So ambitious and organized. I haven't even made my Christmas gift list yet. I avoid it until the last possible moment. She has been working on gifts out in the storage room all day today, happy as a clam.
Last night, after we got home, she said "There, now I can relax." And so can I. Until next year.
She starts by making Christmas cards for each and every person on her list--all different. She is usually done with them by mid-October. Then she pours for hours over her craft books, both borrowed from the library and ones she owns, to find the perfect gift for each person.
(I often wonder what is going through her head at this time, since last year one of her uncles ended up with an elephant ring toss. The elephant's trunk was the ring catcher.)
Then she makes the List. This is the part I dread, because this is where I have to become involved.
Beginning of negativity...
Mostly I stay out of the whole thing, so if anyone has an issue with tacky homemade Christmas gifts, I am not the person to take it up with. You should have seen what I ended up with last year. I love her and I love her heart to give and create, blahdy blah, but I hate tacky. So if your gift is tacky, IT IS NOT MY FAULT. My suggestion is to grin and bear it and hopefully the quality will improve over time.
End (hopefully) of negativity...
A few days ago she came to me and asked when I could take her shopping. She had her list all ready to go. Since I had known this day was coming I had already decided on a day. That day was yesterday. After I made her rewrite her list in a more orderly fashion so we didn't have to wander from one end of the store and back again, we left to go shopping. We decided to go to Walmart first, then hit the craft store and fabric store for the rest.
My daughter is very secretive about the gifts she is making for others. She doesn't like to share. So it makes it hard for me to help her. For instance, her list said "bell." What kind of bell? I asked. Hmm, she didn't remember. Is it a jingle bell, or the other kind?--gritting my teeth. Well, maybe jingle bell, she guesses. Metal pieces? What kind of metal pieces. It's not like you can walk into the store and say "where are your metal pieces?" A cork? Where in the heck is the cork section in Walmart?
Oh, and slow? Oh. My. It was all I could do not to grab the list out of her hand and rush through the store throwing things in the cart. We were in Walmart for over an hour. Ever seen those poor little kids at the store with their moms, following her around--arms hanging down, shuffling their feet, whining "when are you going to be done?"-- that was me. I was so done shopping after the first five minutes.
Okay, so I didn't really do that. But I wanted to.
What a sweet girl. So ambitious and organized. I haven't even made my Christmas gift list yet. I avoid it until the last possible moment. She has been working on gifts out in the storage room all day today, happy as a clam.
Last night, after we got home, she said "There, now I can relax." And so can I. Until next year.
Wednesday, November 08, 2006
If you don't hear from me for a while...
...then it will mean that the pigs finally got me.
It has been quite rainy here. However, I seem to have been obsessed with rain since I was little, so I can't be sure if it is my obsession, or it is really rainy.
It has been quite rainy here. However, I seem to have been obsessed with rain since I was little, so I can't be sure if it is my obsession, or it is really rainy.
Monday, November 06, 2006
The Games Kids Play
Since I just wrote about the Poison Word game, it got me thinking about the different games my kids play.
A lot of them have to do with walking through the house--you can only walk on shadows, can't touch the carpet, can't touch anything red, brown, etc.
Then there are the lunch games--they name their fruit, or they break a pretzel and the others have to guess if it is "broken or fixed". Fixed? Did you break it and glue it back together? I have tried to point out that they should be asking "broken or unbroken?" but they ignore me.
Oh, they do normal games too, those are just the weird ones.
I remember when we were little my sister, Cathy, and I played a game at the lunch table. One of us was a well mannered child and the other was a goop. The goop got to eat with horrible table manners--smacking lips, huge bites, chewing with mouth open. The well mannered child had to teach the goop how to have good manners. I am sure our mother flushed with pride when she saw us play this game, because the end result was the reformed goop eating with beautiful table manners. Little did she know that we always fought over who got to be the goop.
We lived on a farm and had no television, so we did a lot of pretending. Our two favorites were "wagon train" and "living in the woods". In wagon train, of course we were Little House on the Prairie type girls traveling to Oregon with our parents. We would throw the covers on the bed all the way back and onto the floor. This was our seat in the wagon. All kinds of dramatic things would happen, usually resulting in sadness and tears.
In "living in the woods" we were poor little orphan girls living in the wilderness with only the animals for friends. We would make pets out of all the wild animals and they would bring us food and save our lives over and over. All kinds of dramatic things would happen, usually resulting in sadness and tears.
Notice a theme? We were all about drama. Actually, my sister was the creative one--I just played along.
Our poor younger sister, Megan. By the time she was old enough to play our pretend games we weren't playing them any more. Instead, I played "hide Megan's baby doll" or "slave". Guess who was the slave.
I have no idea what we are doing in this picture--it doesn't look good whatever it was. But it couldn't have been too bad since our mother got out the camera instead of going out and paddling my hind end.
I am not a big fan of kid's watching television, but my kids do watch PBS shows in the afternoons, along with movies or playstation games throughout the week. I have never felt that it has been a bad thing because they seem to play and imagine and pretend just as much as I did when I was little. They get ideas for a lot of their pretend games from television or movies, just like my sister and I got some of our ideas from books. So they aren't all that different than I was when I was a kid. I didn't name my fruit, but I am sure I did something equally weird.
Right now they are outside in the pouring rain floating peanut shells in the mud puddle, er, lake.
This is "Peanut", who according to my 9 year old son had "sailed the seven hundred seventy-seven seas and made it clear to the milk truck and back."
Watching them brings back memories of spending many hours floating sticks in the ditch.
Ahh, memories...
A lot of them have to do with walking through the house--you can only walk on shadows, can't touch the carpet, can't touch anything red, brown, etc.
Then there are the lunch games--they name their fruit, or they break a pretzel and the others have to guess if it is "broken or fixed". Fixed? Did you break it and glue it back together? I have tried to point out that they should be asking "broken or unbroken?" but they ignore me.
Oh, they do normal games too, those are just the weird ones.
I remember when we were little my sister, Cathy, and I played a game at the lunch table. One of us was a well mannered child and the other was a goop. The goop got to eat with horrible table manners--smacking lips, huge bites, chewing with mouth open. The well mannered child had to teach the goop how to have good manners. I am sure our mother flushed with pride when she saw us play this game, because the end result was the reformed goop eating with beautiful table manners. Little did she know that we always fought over who got to be the goop.
We lived on a farm and had no television, so we did a lot of pretending. Our two favorites were "wagon train" and "living in the woods". In wagon train, of course we were Little House on the Prairie type girls traveling to Oregon with our parents. We would throw the covers on the bed all the way back and onto the floor. This was our seat in the wagon. All kinds of dramatic things would happen, usually resulting in sadness and tears.
In "living in the woods" we were poor little orphan girls living in the wilderness with only the animals for friends. We would make pets out of all the wild animals and they would bring us food and save our lives over and over. All kinds of dramatic things would happen, usually resulting in sadness and tears.
Notice a theme? We were all about drama. Actually, my sister was the creative one--I just played along.
Our poor younger sister, Megan. By the time she was old enough to play our pretend games we weren't playing them any more. Instead, I played "hide Megan's baby doll" or "slave". Guess who was the slave.
I have no idea what we are doing in this picture--it doesn't look good whatever it was. But it couldn't have been too bad since our mother got out the camera instead of going out and paddling my hind end.
I am not a big fan of kid's watching television, but my kids do watch PBS shows in the afternoons, along with movies or playstation games throughout the week. I have never felt that it has been a bad thing because they seem to play and imagine and pretend just as much as I did when I was little. They get ideas for a lot of their pretend games from television or movies, just like my sister and I got some of our ideas from books. So they aren't all that different than I was when I was a kid. I didn't name my fruit, but I am sure I did something equally weird.
Right now they are outside in the pouring rain floating peanut shells in the mud puddle, er, lake.
This is "Peanut", who according to my 9 year old son had "sailed the seven hundred seventy-seven seas and made it clear to the milk truck and back."
Watching them brings back memories of spending many hours floating sticks in the ditch.
Ahh, memories...
Friday, November 03, 2006
Poison Word
My kids have a game they like to play. They try to get someone to say "what". Yep, that's it. "Mom!" "What?" "You lose!". Funny. If Mom doesn't say what and answers "Hmm?" then they just say "Mom!" until I get aggravated and say "WHAT!?!?" "You lose!". Real funny. I am not the only victim, though. The three year old is another great target. "NO I DON'T LOSE!" That is apparently real funny as well.
They call this game the "Poison Word". After a few days of this I was ready to put a ban on the poison word. At least when it comes to me. I have to listen to "Mom!" enough without it being a big joke. I have tried to teach the kids to at least pause a few seconds before repeating when they call me, but it isn't working too well. Especially when it comes to the three year old.
So then I came up with what I thought was a great idea. Why not declare "Mom" the poison word? Brilliant! So I did that. I said, "Mom, Mommy, Mother or any other form of the word is now the Poison Word."
Blank stares.
Laughs.
No one believed me. Undaunted, I tried another tack. The next time someone said, "Mom...Mom...Mom" I said, "I'm not Mom, I'm the babysitter." When that didn't work, I even wrote it down.
Well, that didn't work either. I guess I am stuck with these rotton kids calling me "Mom".
"Hey kids!"
"What?"
"You lose!"
They call this game the "Poison Word". After a few days of this I was ready to put a ban on the poison word. At least when it comes to me. I have to listen to "Mom!" enough without it being a big joke. I have tried to teach the kids to at least pause a few seconds before repeating when they call me, but it isn't working too well. Especially when it comes to the three year old.
So then I came up with what I thought was a great idea. Why not declare "Mom" the poison word? Brilliant! So I did that. I said, "Mom, Mommy, Mother or any other form of the word is now the Poison Word."
Blank stares.
Laughs.
No one believed me. Undaunted, I tried another tack. The next time someone said, "Mom...Mom...Mom" I said, "I'm not Mom, I'm the babysitter." When that didn't work, I even wrote it down.
Well, that didn't work either. I guess I am stuck with these rotton kids calling me "Mom".
"Hey kids!"
"What?"
"You lose!"
Wednesday, November 01, 2006
The Rocket
I mentioned before that my son had a rocket project for school. We finally got a chance to actually complete the project last Sunday.
First of all, it was a little frustrating because his teacher was pretty adamant about what he wanted my son to do but a little vague on how he was to go about doing it. My son, being a little shy, wouldn't pin him down on this matter.
Son: Lt. Prince wants me to shoot the rocket off at different angles and predict something from that.
Me: What does he want you to predict?
Son: I don't know, he said something about thrust and something else. You can go to a web site and put in the information and it shows you the path of your rocket.
Me: Where's the website? Where do we get this information?
Son: Uh, I will ask him tomorrow.
Next day comes...
Me: Did you talk to your teacher?
Son: Yes, he said something about thrust. Thrust and how high the rocket will go. There is a website.
Me: Where is this website? How the heck are we supposed to know the thrust?
Son: I don't know. I keep asking him but he is used to talking to college students and he uses big words I can't understand. He ran for office twice.
My son seems to think this is a good explanation for the fact that the guy can't seem to speak in simple terms. Ha! He may be right.
Me: Would you please ask him what information you need to know, a web site, something?
Son: I will try but he is hard to talk to. He said something about looking at the website where we bought the rocket.
Oh. My. Gawrsh. I wanted to wring his neck. Both of their necks. So on this went for days. I know this wasn't my project. My husband reminded me of that. "But I want to be an involved parent!" I whined. "I don't want to do it for him, but I want to make sure it gets done and not just abandon him!"
Yeah, well guess who finally looked up the websites that gave him the info he needed? ME. Here is a great website for predicting altitude. My son input all the numbers they asked for (finally got that info from the rocket we bought) and found that at zero degrees past vertical the rocket should go about 750 feet into the air with a flight time of about 55 seconds.
By the way, when looking for a rocket to purchase, he ended up choosing the one that gave the highest maximum altitude. Most of the rockets weren't supposed to go over 600 feet or so, but the rocket we bought listed a maximum altitude of 1000 feet. This may have been a mistake.
We went to the ranch to shoot off the rocket because there is a little more room than here at home. He got the motor in and everything all set up and ready to go.
I was able to capture some pictures from the film I took of the whole thing:
Putting in the parachute
Hooking up the motor to the launcher
Getting ready for take off
Whoosh!
See the little building in the background? That is my mother-in-law's laundry room. Heh heh.
Ahem.
The rocket went very very high. After the parachute came out and it started sailing, I was afraid it was going to go a mile.
The whole experiment thing was kind of dumb because he was supposed to predict how high it would go but had no way of knowing how high it really went. All we know is that the flight time was 30 seconds longer than predicted. Duh to the teacher.
No rocket, just rain clouds
The grin says it all
He is telling me that the rocket landed in the neighbor's tree. One of the ones over his right shoulder. So much for wider more open spaces.
This is the one and only flight my son's rocket took. He was supposed to shoot it off at least 3 times, preferably more, for the whole experiment. But he was having a lot of trouble with the fins coming off and after the rocket was recovered from the neighbor's tree, 2 of the fins came off--one is gone forever.
After he repairs the rocket we will definately be setting it off again. This time it will be just for fun.
First of all, it was a little frustrating because his teacher was pretty adamant about what he wanted my son to do but a little vague on how he was to go about doing it. My son, being a little shy, wouldn't pin him down on this matter.
Son: Lt. Prince wants me to shoot the rocket off at different angles and predict something from that.
Me: What does he want you to predict?
Son: I don't know, he said something about thrust and something else. You can go to a web site and put in the information and it shows you the path of your rocket.
Me: Where's the website? Where do we get this information?
Son: Uh, I will ask him tomorrow.
Next day comes...
Me: Did you talk to your teacher?
Son: Yes, he said something about thrust. Thrust and how high the rocket will go. There is a website.
Me: Where is this website? How the heck are we supposed to know the thrust?
Son: I don't know. I keep asking him but he is used to talking to college students and he uses big words I can't understand. He ran for office twice.
My son seems to think this is a good explanation for the fact that the guy can't seem to speak in simple terms. Ha! He may be right.
Me: Would you please ask him what information you need to know, a web site, something?
Son: I will try but he is hard to talk to. He said something about looking at the website where we bought the rocket.
Oh. My. Gawrsh. I wanted to wring his neck. Both of their necks. So on this went for days. I know this wasn't my project. My husband reminded me of that. "But I want to be an involved parent!" I whined. "I don't want to do it for him, but I want to make sure it gets done and not just abandon him!"
Yeah, well guess who finally looked up the websites that gave him the info he needed? ME. Here is a great website for predicting altitude. My son input all the numbers they asked for (finally got that info from the rocket we bought) and found that at zero degrees past vertical the rocket should go about 750 feet into the air with a flight time of about 55 seconds.
By the way, when looking for a rocket to purchase, he ended up choosing the one that gave the highest maximum altitude. Most of the rockets weren't supposed to go over 600 feet or so, but the rocket we bought listed a maximum altitude of 1000 feet. This may have been a mistake.
We went to the ranch to shoot off the rocket because there is a little more room than here at home. He got the motor in and everything all set up and ready to go.
I was able to capture some pictures from the film I took of the whole thing:
See the little building in the background? That is my mother-in-law's laundry room. Heh heh.
The rocket went very very high. After the parachute came out and it started sailing, I was afraid it was going to go a mile.
The whole experiment thing was kind of dumb because he was supposed to predict how high it would go but had no way of knowing how high it really went. All we know is that the flight time was 30 seconds longer than predicted. Duh to the teacher.
He is telling me that the rocket landed in the neighbor's tree. One of the ones over his right shoulder. So much for wider more open spaces.
This is the one and only flight my son's rocket took. He was supposed to shoot it off at least 3 times, preferably more, for the whole experiment. But he was having a lot of trouble with the fins coming off and after the rocket was recovered from the neighbor's tree, 2 of the fins came off--one is gone forever.
After he repairs the rocket we will definately be setting it off again. This time it will be just for fun.
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