One Hook Wonder

St. Nicholas Day

We had a lot of fun celebrating St. Nicholas Day (for the very first time!) last weekend.  Short Pants had been eagerly counting down the days and wondering what kind of treats St. Nicholas might leave for him and Pita Pocket.  Our new St. Nicholas postcard arrived in time to be put on display; Short Pants thought it was *very* funny that St. Nicholas had his horse on the boat!  I explained to him that some stories say St. Nicholas was able to calm stormy waters:

 
While The Mister was busy with a Christmas project in his workshop and Pita Pocket was napping, Short Pants and I made these yummy St. Nicholas Purse Cookies together.  His main job was unwrapping all of the Hershey Kisses.  I think about half of them made it into his belly rather than the bowl:

 
  
After dinner we read a short St. Nicholas story and then before bed the littles set out their slippers with carrots for St. Nicholas' horse.  (we had explained to Short Pants that it's a fun story to play, like Santa, beforehand)  Pita Pocket thought we were absolutely insane for trying to get him to stuff a carrot into his slipper!  He kept pulling the carrot out and trying to put his slipper on:

Short Pants told me before he fell asleep that I was St. Nicholas and The Mister was the horse (heehee) so The Mister would have to eat both of the carrots. 

I wanted to keep the emphasis on "getting" kind of low-key, so we only put a few treats in their slipper - the standard bag of chocolate gold coins, a new Christmas book, and a golden walnut jingle bell necklace.  I used this tutorial for the necklaces; they came out so cute!  I made one for each of the boys and another for a special little friend who wanted to know what St. Nicholas was leaving for her!

 I also needlefelted a very simple St. Nicholas figure that we can use for decorating every year:

 
The littles were so excited the next morning to wake to their treats.  This is definately a celebration that we'll be doing again next year.  If any of you have special St. Nicholas Day traditions I would love to hear them!

Mari-Ann asked in a comment down in another post about needlefelting a figure.  If there's any interest, I will gladly put up a tutorial next week.  Please keep in mind that my figures are not exactly the work of some mystical needlefelting guru; I tend to keep to the simple.  How about a sweet little tomten?  I've been meaning to make one for our winter nature table since last year.

This Is How We Do It

I know, I know.  Every other flippin' blog you read has already posted about advent, complete with lovely candlelit pictures.  I'm just late jumping on the bandwagon. 

We're not religious around these parts, so for many years I've felt that the Christmas season was missing that magical component that I craved.  Let's face it, a sweet baby who's the hope of the world laying in a manger is magical; an empty holiday that just means presents is not.  Last year we celebrated Solstice for the first time, and that just felt right to me.  We're looking forward to a Solstice celebration again this year, so with that in mind we lit our first Solstice candle last Sunday.  Instead of counting down to Christmas, we count down to that magical evening that celebrates the return of the light.  One candle will be lit at dinner each Sunday, with the 5th candle being lit on Solstice itself:

Lighting this candle each Sunday helps us to be mindful of our blessings and the wonderful world around us.  It also (I fervently hope) takes some of the emphasis off the Christmas giftfest for the kiddos.  As so many Waldorf and Waldorfish families do, we use this poem by Rudolph Steiner as our guide:

The first light of Advent is the light of stones.
Stones that live in crystals, seashells, and bones.

The second light of Advent is the light of plants.
Roots, stem, leaf, flower and fruit by whom we live and grow.

The third light of Advent is the light of beasts.
Animals of farm, field, forest, air and sea.
All await the birth in greatest and in least.

The fourth light of Advent is the light of humankind.
The light of love, the light of thought, to give and to understand.

Though we don't use a wreath, I've changed our nature tray to reflect our countdown.  Right now our basket rests on the colors of the sun and warmth, red and orange.  We have some rocks from our property and shells we picked up long ago in Florida on display, and will add to it each week as we light our candle:

 
And, well, just because it's *fun* to count the days till Christmas, we also use this countdown calender as well.  The kids take turns opening the box and hanging the new ornament each night:

We don't "do" Santa for the littles, though we do enjoy telling the story.  They just know that it's us who brings the gifts.  ;)  We also decided to add St. Nicholas day to our celebrations this year, which I'm really looking forward to. 

So there you have it - our mishmash of holiday traditions.  It's not for everyone, but I'm glad that we're finally finding something that works for us. 

Rosemary's Toddler

Remember this little guy?  Don't let the cute oh-golly-gee-I'm-adorable-wearing-an-angel-food-cake-pan disguise fool you:

People, I tell you...he is Satan's Spawn.  Now that I think about it, he's actually worse than Satan's Spawn.  Evil Spawn would just run around doing evil; this child not only runs around doing evil, but he throws HUGE MAMMOTH TANTRUMS WHILE DOING IT. 

Holy crap!  Someone save me before I start drinking at 8:30 in the morning!  Yesterday we had ginormous, laying on the floor kicking and screaming fits because:

1.  I would not give him more pretzels when he already had a bowl full of them (I'm stingy that way)

2.  I could not physically hold him, read to him, and make lunch all at the same time

3.  I wanted to change his diaper instead of letting him stew in his own poop

4.  I looked at him

5.  Short Pants looked at him

6.  The sky is blue

I'm sure you're getting the general theme here!  The worst part is that I can't seem to find anything that works to stop the tantrums.  If I try to comfort him during one, he hits at me.  If I try to hand him his blanket, he hits/kicks at it.  If I sit nearby and stay quiet, he tackles me and hits me.  If I get up and walk away, he runs screaming after me, runs physically into me, then flings himself on the floor at my feet still screaming. 

I think it's safe to say that we've reached the Totally Irrational Toddler stage of development, complete with limb flailing.

I'm ending each day completely drained and I'm sure Pita Pocket feels much the same way.  Short Pants never really threw tantrums like this, and if Boba and Bean ever did they are a distant memory (thank goodness!).  I'm sure that Pita Pocket's frustration level will decrease at least a tiny bit once he begins speech therapy and can communicate his desires/needs a bit better, but that's definately not the entire issue.  I mean, running screaming from the room when I announce it's diaper change time is a pretty clear communication, I think.   

Cross your fingers that it gets better for *both* of us soon!

Sick

I'm a bit under the weather, so I'm taking a bit of a posting break till Monday.  If I owe you and e-mail, please be assured that I will send it as soon as my head stops throbbing.  :)  Have a lovely weekend!

Hallowhine

It all started last Saturday.  The littles were kind of whiny and coming down with colds, as were we.  We could deal with that.  Short Pants was so excited about trick-or-treating (meaning, the chance to stuff his mouth full of candy) that we took them downtown (this is a roughly 10 foot square area compromised of 2 gas stations, a Dollar General, a really bad diner, and some houses) in our tiny town to go trick-or-treating.  Pita Pocket refused to wear a costume AT ALL, so we had a knight and a cute toddler:

As you can see, the candy eating started even before we were out the door.  The boys were *very* tired/whiny that evening, so we put them to bed early and told ourselves things would be better in the morning. 

Umm, no.  They weren't.  At all.  It just got worse...day after day after day...till we came to Tuesday.

Let me give you an excerpt from one phone conversation yesterday:

The Mister:  "Hello?"

Me:  "I am about to Lose.  My.  Motherbleeping.  Mind."

Repeat like 4 times.  I honestly fantasized dropping them off at some mythical daycare that would HAVE to take them for the day because I was paying them.  I enviously thought about my husband and how damned lucky he was to be sitting in front of a computer at work dealing with people he didn't want to deal with because at least *those* people didn't start crying every 30 seconds to be carried and need their nose wiped.  The highlight of the day was playtime outside in a desperate bid to placate my demon spawn.  Pita Pocket screamed because he wanted to go on a walk, while Short Pants screamed because he wanted to play in the sandbox. 

15 minutes later...I tell the boys that we need to go inside because Mama's brain is about to fall out.  Short Pants proceeds to run shrieking through the yard in the opposite direction.  Of course, our neighbor is outside working in his yard.  Swell.  I pick up Pita Pocket and start to lug him into the house.  Short Pants refuses to come with me.  Better than swell!  As I deposit little #2 inside the house I can hear little #1 screaming at the top of his lungs over and over, "Wifey!  Wifey!  Wifey!" (oh yeah, did I ever mention that for the past almost 3 months he refers to me as "wifey" and never "mommy" anymore?  He's heard The Mister call me that one too many times.  And yes, I know it's a somewhat silly nickname for my husband to call me, but give me a break here - at least it's not something like "Sexy Gurrl," right?")  

So I pick up my Wifey-screaming son and lug him up the stairs and into the house.  The entire time he's shrieking like I'm strangling him and I'm thinking maybe I should since the little bugger is also kicking me too.  

I'd like to say that then everyone got over it and we were all ok, but I can't.  What happened is that Short Pants and Pita Pocket both threw monster fits while I contemplated just how much I could get for them on the black market.  Then The Mister arrived home and I said, "Look!  It's your daddy!" and ran off upstairs to hide in my craft room.  (Oh, and did I mention that now Pita Pocket can scale the gate that keeps my craft room safe from toddlers?  Life is good!)

I've started watching the first season of Buffy the Vampire Slayer.  A recent episode was about a group of kids who somehow got "transpossessed" by a pack of hyenas.  I spent all evening trying to figure out just what the hell transpossessed my littles but still haven't figured it out.  Currently I'm leaning toward rabid flying monkeys. 

A Cake And Damn, I'm Tired

What a crazy week it's been and will continue to be!  Last weekend was the family party for Short Pants followed by a trick-or-treating event, and last night was another party for Short Pants with our friends.  Normally I like to have the parties together as it's much less work, but the dates just didn't work out this year.  Tomorrow is The Mister's birthday, followed by my nephew's birthday party on Sunday, followed by my own birthday on Monday.  And oh yeah, isn't Halloween somewhere in there too?  *head spins*

Anyway, I wanted to show off Short Pants' birthday cake to you.  What I will NOT be showing you are the pirate cupcakes I made for the party yesterday.  I thought about posting them, but the idea of showing up on Cake Wrecks was too much for me. 

Back to the cake.  After looking around on the net for some inspiration (of course) I ended up making this:

The "sand" is brown sugar, and the treasure chest is made out of graham crackers and filled with sprinkles.  Short Pants loved it.  It might not be as perfect as a store-bought cake, but my boy knowing that his mama cared enough to make a special cake just for him makes up for the imperfections, I think:

Just in case you're wondering - no amount of caring made up for the pirate cupcakes.  It is clear that I should never be set loose with a frosting tip again.

The Birthday Boy

Yesterday was Short Pants' 4th birthday.  My heart is full to bursting with love for my boy.  It's been like watching a miracle unfold every day for 4 years.  You mamas know what I mean.

 
 
 

Mini Kitchen Makeover

I didn't make over a miniature kitchen, in case you were wondering - but that would be kind of fun, wouldn't it? *note to self - purchase doll house immediately*  Anyway, I did a mini makeover in *my* kitchen. 

So you know all about our dining room renovation saga.  What you don't know is that my bright idea to paint our cabinets white crashed and burned.  Hard.  The cabinet faces and drawer fronts came out fine; it's the doors that are the problem.  (Ok, wait - the cabinet drawer fronts are no longer fine because Pita Pocket took a metal measuring spoon to most of them - let's just agree that the whole project has gone to pot, shall we?)

Starting over.

For some reason the primer and paint on the cabinet doors came out all glompy and rough.  They were bad enough that I decided that there was no way we could hang them back up.  We did end up hanging the bottom doors back on, because keeping Pita Pocket out of the cabinets was a 24/7 job, and also because it's not as noticeable.  But the ones on the top we left off.  I DID NOT want to scrape and re-paint them, but we also really can't afford new cabinets.   

Fast forward almost two months.  It occurs to me that we're having a birthday party this weekend, and that the kitchen might not look...err...its best.  We are messy kitchen cabinet people over here.  There's no neatly stacked dishes and beautiful mason jars filled with spices.  It's more like a bunch of dishes and glassware threw up in our cabinets.  Oh, and then someone tossed spices on top of the throw up.   

The Mister has decided to build us all new cabinets (yay!) but until they are completed (I'm guessing somewhere 'round 2014 at the rate we move) we needed a cheap solution.  Enter a good friend, who came up with the idea to pin fabric up instead of doors. 

So I did it, and I'm pretty sure that I like it.  I'm still kind of iffy though - at any rate it's better than the gaping holes of dishware vomit we had going on.  What do you think?

 
 

Oh, and check out how Pita Pocket kept himself busy while I hid all of the shit normally covering the countertops took pictures:

We were still finding carrots hidden in the living room after lunchtime.
 

Mmm...The Taste Of Charred Marshmallows

We spent part of last week staying in a tiny cabin in the woods.  This cabin had a fire pit, which Short Pants was *very* excited about.  This caused a complete "duh" moment for me.  Hello?  Tiny A-frame in the woods?  We were just missing the fire pit.

So two of my favorite guys got to work.  This is one of the bonuses of country living - when you want a fire pit you just move the huge rocks already on your property and chop up some of the fallen trees in your woods to burn. 

Part of the fun was turning over rocks and discovering what lurked under them.  We found several snail shells (we left the living snails alone):

 

We also discovered countless insects, a few salamanders, and even a small snake:

Then the boys started building:

 

Later that (early) evening we had our first fire.  We all had so much fun that I can easily see us doing this almost every weekend for awhile:

 
 

Needless to say, I loaded up on hotdogs and marshmallows today at the store!

Hand Picks An Apple

Like just about everyone else in the upper midwest, we went apple picking recently.  We went last year to our local u-pick farm and loaded up, but this year the plan was to really load up.  I think having a chest freezer might have gone to my head. 

 
 
 
 
 
 

We picked A LOT.  As in, over 100 pounds of apples.  Believe me, there were a whole lot of people giving us weird looks at the check out counter.

But behold the bounty *insert trumpets blaring*.  We put enough in the freezer for well over a dozen pies or crisps, plus I spent yesterday canning applesauce and apple butter for the first time:

 

In case this is all sounding a bit too Pollyanna-ish, I will be totally honest and admit that canning sucks monkey butt.  It involves many, many hours of standing on your feet in a hot kitchen while your small children rage at the gate blocking them out because it might just be important that they stay away from huge vats of boiling water. 

But it *does* produce yummy results.