tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13829777864791876932024-03-13T15:30:19.618-04:00Homestead MomFUN-IN-A-BOX!Homestead Momhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05609656644515059452noreply@blogger.comBlogger738125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1382977786479187693.post-91474165793399432992010-04-27T10:50:00.003-04:002011-05-24T22:58:31.355-04:00New BlogI've migrated to another blog. It is under construction, like every other aspect of my life, so don't judge to hastily. It will be pretty soon enough. I have been waiting to post to it, and announce it, until it was done, but that is a tiny bit laughable.<br />
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Come on over!<br />
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[ I am no longer linking to the new blog. Email me at norabelle at gmail.com for the new addy.]<br />
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</style>Homestead Momhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05609656644515059452noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1382977786479187693.post-19148223020840198462010-04-16T23:34:00.001-04:002010-04-16T23:34:43.961-04:00Gratitude Friday<p class="mobile-photo"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkqQx-xm0rC72yk3E4ATn_VGN4dNJySTOusl6-64LofE_AzIPPC065daOJi9TELabq1Dlgd9ObPgKO_4cXn6oWdXV6swgJe5xHaruax3UOA8Ggt6YcHsyL6LbDt0epuWCVJq-qIqzRwUI/s1600/2010-04-16.070.WalkPlank-783962.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkqQx-xm0rC72yk3E4ATn_VGN4dNJySTOusl6-64LofE_AzIPPC065daOJi9TELabq1Dlgd9ObPgKO_4cXn6oWdXV6swgJe5xHaruax3UOA8Ggt6YcHsyL6LbDt0epuWCVJq-qIqzRwUI/s320/2010-04-16.070.WalkPlank-783962.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5460944761951738210" /></a></p>I am so very grateful that a little rain, a low point in the yard, scrap wood and a vivid imagination makes for an hour of wet, happy, creative, amusing play.<br><br>My daughter is Wendy walking the plank, and her brother is Peter Pan about to swoop in to save her. With much splashing and planning and discussion and compromising.<br> <br>It is my parenting coming to fruition, all the seventeen million reminders, playful parenting, modeling behavior, teaching respect and cooperation, frugality, and joy.<br>It is nice to see.<br><br><br> Homestead Momhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05609656644515059452noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1382977786479187693.post-16332773019017998502010-04-13T21:23:00.002-04:002010-04-13T21:40:09.561-04:00Is It April ALREADY?<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhet_TH54mR45BfRC_T9-Mg-YoR75IeG90XA2PG6_A4mHtvOtyZl_3kaf_IhS0TBIPFF52M6dJ-TkIgb0hV9bPOQsmEXqW1CXIUbGyBbfAWg7brxqDtlV_ME3DuIG4zznzREMQkB7sWHnY/s1600/2010-04-08.038.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhet_TH54mR45BfRC_T9-Mg-YoR75IeG90XA2PG6_A4mHtvOtyZl_3kaf_IhS0TBIPFF52M6dJ-TkIgb0hV9bPOQsmEXqW1CXIUbGyBbfAWg7brxqDtlV_ME3DuIG4zznzREMQkB7sWHnY/s320/2010-04-08.038.jpg" /></a></div>This post is so clearly brought to you by the sandbox I built and installed last summer. It is about 30 feet from the new French doors, and has captivated the kids this year. I may find time to make it prettier shortly, but who really cares? Now that the weather is warm again, the yard is their amusement park and they can spend hours out there playing on the swing set, hammock, sandbox, deck, and gravel pit. They paint on the easel in the grass, kick the balls that decorate the yard, and seem to be teaching themselves how to play leap frog with the most hysterical outcome. Lots of pouncing, squashing, and reconnoitering before the next physical fiasco. <br />
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I'm not sure I'm doing this whole parenting thing right, but the kids? They take up all my time. Perhaps if I ignored them more, or if they liked to play by themselves more I'd get more done, but most of the time I am attending to them all day and then Homestead Mama comes home after an 11-hour work day about 10 minutes before their bedtime and reads to them, we put them through the 20 minute bed time ritual and then go downstairs, collapse on the couch together, talk about the day or how we really should submit our taxes soon and then watch a DVR show and go to sleep. It isn't glamorous, but it does work for us.<br />
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Here's what I have been doing of late:<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>:: Tending to a friend's chicks and planning our own coop and flock. We are set to order a bunch of Sussex, Black Australorps, Barred Plymouth Rock, and Silver Wyandottes. With a couple Ameracaunas for H-Mama, as she wants the colored eggs. All hens, save for one rooster for Monito. He wants to name it Big Shot after his favorite character in our <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Animal-Friends-Maple-Hill-Farm/dp/0689844999/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1271206813&sr=8-1">current favorite book</a>. <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSpTqZWDdxLq7aEyNYTg-f6JT9q13UOxdWg0xGSORnw1jEhjgvu1Ie0Qy3XGo2XGyitdye_danTTZxj5yVOeQH6mJrzH06dDvlTUnSlbxz9ZMrSCepi4LWmADcOew-zjsW8WYIPjvASAk/s1600/2010-04-09.063.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSpTqZWDdxLq7aEyNYTg-f6JT9q13UOxdWg0xGSORnw1jEhjgvu1Ie0Qy3XGo2XGyitdye_danTTZxj5yVOeQH6mJrzH06dDvlTUnSlbxz9ZMrSCepi4LWmADcOew-zjsW8WYIPjvASAk/s320/2010-04-09.063.jpg" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>:: Easter! And the requisite lengths of rope in the baskets. What? You didn't get your kids rope for Easter? Silly readers. It is the new tape. It ties in (hardy har har) with the pirate theme we are sporting in this house. A lovely relaxing hour can be had by a mom sitting and being tied up.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilFmdjT7T6JCh011gRmvZnjCeBnxG7LN56WSXusKegRZaGCTfWjSKJCPZDwfjTCLJ-0aKKWnbEoR-eVC7-AlM4CgLlMI0XP49YQlq7NBD-EJ-4wsS_ZSTj-T4bNvdU8wfzQ3DHw4RyLqI/s1600/2010-04-08.048.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilFmdjT7T6JCh011gRmvZnjCeBnxG7LN56WSXusKegRZaGCTfWjSKJCPZDwfjTCLJ-0aKKWnbEoR-eVC7-AlM4CgLlMI0XP49YQlq7NBD-EJ-4wsS_ZSTj-T4bNvdU8wfzQ3DHw4RyLqI/s320/2010-04-08.048.jpg" /></a></div><br />
:: Training the boy to not say "You IDIOTS!" to his sister when he gets frustrated. Thanks a lot, Cruella DeVille. He only uses it in the plural, because Cruella hurls the insult at the Badden Brothers. The boy hasn't figured out that his sister is a singular, and this makes is just funny enough that I can't take him seriously. I take him more seriously when he says "You ASSHOLES!" at his blocks or Playmobil vehicles. He learned that from, um, Homestead Mama! Yes! That's it! Bad, Homestead Mama.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>:: Enjoying the new game my kids have developed, Shoe Fighting. It happens in the car since we have a micro-minivan instead of the cavernous Odyssey. When they get a little nutty they have begun pummeling one another. It is like thumb-wrestling, but with feet, and kicking. So much fun! I was parked next to an Odyssey at the grocery store the other day and once I had strapped my kids in I leaned into the wide open side door while the mom-owner was returning her cart to the kiosk. Oh my goodness, we could have comfortably slept our whole family in there. I stood half in, half out of the vehicle, mouth agape, as I mentally ticked off all the things I could fit in there. A whole additional child + car seat! All our vacation packing! A stroller AND some bikes! I was ready to sign on to a 13 mpg car right then and there. Sigh. Mommy porn, for sure. I should note that except for not being a cavernous minivan, our Mazda 5 is awesome and I have NO regrets. If we do have a third kid, though, watch out! <br />
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::Pequita has reached a phase where she mimics a lot. Me, H-Mama, her brother. This means that much of the time she is either swearing (us) or reduced to almost-three-year-old behavior (her brother). Good times! Tantrums, misbehavior, whining, she does it all with a 7-second delay after her brother. Because is isn't enough to live through the first time! She is potty trained during the day, and we still diaper her during nap times and night just to catch any accidents. Today, she opted to stay in her diaper after naps until she pooped in her diaper, something we are working with her brother on. She stalked in to the room I was in and demanded, "You will change my diaper NOW." I snickered quietly, and tried to make it a learning experience. Mistake. She got increasingly upset and really just wanted the stinky dipe off right away. I hope the experiment is over, and she won't do it again. Her stress levels are such that when it happens, it is like a 4-alarm fire. She cannot understand her brother who still resists the change and would prefer to wear his poop around with him for comfort for many long minutes (hours) after the fact.<br />
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:: Watching the wildlife return to our yard. Birds are flocking to the feeders and nesting bags we put out (mesh bags full of yarn & fabric scraps for the birds to use as nesting material.) Recently a ring-necked pheasant traipsed around our yard for a while, much to our amazement and joy. The next day, we encountered his body on the road near the house. Someone had hit him but good with their car. I stopped the car and let the kids see him. Pequita remarked that her "heart was very sad". Mine too, little girl.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvGCHHDJxnBVrxBYs4Vu1Ke8RFsJ-o3ybwUAcBmGbiaF8crbqpMKi0eKJ2ZBCtPWMhRH4fNtWvf2IG8mVg05GM6dII0y6T2hgSzFTNe6_C7EtAsiv8rW1sh8wkPipPU516AYZRvVdYlCo/s1600/2010-03-31.081.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvGCHHDJxnBVrxBYs4Vu1Ke8RFsJ-o3ybwUAcBmGbiaF8crbqpMKi0eKJ2ZBCtPWMhRH4fNtWvf2IG8mVg05GM6dII0y6T2hgSzFTNe6_C7EtAsiv8rW1sh8wkPipPU516AYZRvVdYlCo/s320/2010-03-31.081.jpg" /></a></div><br />
:: Cooking up a storm. I'm using up the fruit and meat in our freezer as fast as I can. Sunday, <a href="http://tinyurl.com/rhubarbchutney">rhubarb chutney</a> with fresh ham. Behold the glory of chutney spices!<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj86kl71A0GrgOJfIGL2_RC73u_BkP9DgML8dpdyi5S63Av-t9SqtJWlK6W7A9YmPV6sHbNGSe1iv4kQwEjHG3GIIwZGofeaaOYZllE2FjKGwla_DJhdhcKF0QlsRBAc4pW9cVZ71GV_CU/s1600/2010-04-12.077.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj86kl71A0GrgOJfIGL2_RC73u_BkP9DgML8dpdyi5S63Av-t9SqtJWlK6W7A9YmPV6sHbNGSe1iv4kQwEjHG3GIIwZGofeaaOYZllE2FjKGwla_DJhdhcKF0QlsRBAc4pW9cVZ71GV_CU/s320/2010-04-12.077.jpg" /></a></div><br />
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Recently, several no-knead bread options, Mongolian beef, gingerbread and pies galore. We have a half side of grass fed beef in the freezer, and are about to pick up a half lamb, and a whole young pig, all non-certified organic and really yummy. We need to clear out as much as we can before the influx occurs. On the list of things to tackle soon: Greek yogurt, hot dog buns from scratch, cole slaw (to use up the last of our stored cabbage), and sausage and pate with all our meat.<br />
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::Yard work! Clearing fall brush away, landscaping when I can fit it in, raking, seeding, digging. We'll have to start mowing this week, which takes about 2 hours at a time since we have 1.5 acres of tended yard. Plus an extra hour if we mow the path through the meadow. We need a goat, but won't get one until AFTER we have a small barn for it. Can't wait for the goat's milk, goat cheese, and free brush removal.<br />
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:: <a href="http://www.wikihow.com/Double-Dig-a-Garden">Double-digging</a> my garden patch. Last year, my six 4' x 4' raised beds were more to keep the kids and dogs off my planting area. This year, I'll move them to the edge of the garden and they will become our dedicated strawberry and asparagus beds and I'll leave our regular garden plots on the bare ground. This patch took about an hour to dig; three more to go this year. I'll expand more next year; this year, three 4' x 12' beds will have to suffice.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhx-kTmKlbd7lsKBoBlJjfm1M-8gWAy42BoPULJGTbJdMrW_LeckfvP4EjtmukDVzoaxcG27Bb7viNkI6pTVSbyKFuM0_vWRSejO-cfzpFPcJstbRQbrq5O_ktTMYvYKrPc6UZRlthkNuM/s1600/2010-04-12.081.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhx-kTmKlbd7lsKBoBlJjfm1M-8gWAy42BoPULJGTbJdMrW_LeckfvP4EjtmukDVzoaxcG27Bb7viNkI6pTVSbyKFuM0_vWRSejO-cfzpFPcJstbRQbrq5O_ktTMYvYKrPc6UZRlthkNuM/s320/2010-04-12.081.jpg" /></a></div><br />
:: Sitting watching the sky at sunset, sunrise, and any time in between.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjT_0zyM5IKwCbJLSQcvtVjmRzAiLilpUfg4ihSBkvhzFZr8VIOe0FNP-ENoVjmhETUVWka4jfl2VfavDX4gjb2EJmZvURoUigLHfR9BfFIPUNIODwW2kv3ZMHqlhh0nFXQfqof0eb5-w/s1600/2010-04-12.075.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjT_0zyM5IKwCbJLSQcvtVjmRzAiLilpUfg4ihSBkvhzFZr8VIOe0FNP-ENoVjmhETUVWka4jfl2VfavDX4gjb2EJmZvURoUigLHfR9BfFIPUNIODwW2kv3ZMHqlhh0nFXQfqof0eb5-w/s320/2010-04-12.075.jpg" /></a></div><br />
:: Many cookouts and campfires. Homestead Mama likes to be active, so will putter in the yard and then burn her gleanings. The kids love to cook their dinner over the campfire. Up next: foil meals. Wrapping a potato, some meat and veggies up in a piece of tin foil and setting it in the coals to cook. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmNY07dWFpwtcqEaRYZTKWQa-try7UBNYqJdstFCl2zIjgVWZBUzYGm8U-REKASpyWfhXN26loZX5TUZkWjn501ZtlfbuzrnEVBMXCNF4LrdlXybvxqr2ijVpfH-h-o_MXZ58DzEEmsTU/s1600/2010-04-05.020.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmNY07dWFpwtcqEaRYZTKWQa-try7UBNYqJdstFCl2zIjgVWZBUzYGm8U-REKASpyWfhXN26loZX5TUZkWjn501ZtlfbuzrnEVBMXCNF4LrdlXybvxqr2ijVpfH-h-o_MXZ58DzEEmsTU/s320/2010-04-05.020.jpg" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgycZP6ERCT7mCQDXePJY-lcgi__-hdIN5TPz-inZTM0RT6orqgp5DNC4un3USZz9x9RlkeLlDxqUW1Bem5hJh9TsEDhbiaNROgrMAsVByBAXwBi39qFiYY8np01efd4zqdTkej4NWAYWU/s1600/2010-04-12.078.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgycZP6ERCT7mCQDXePJY-lcgi__-hdIN5TPz-inZTM0RT6orqgp5DNC4un3USZz9x9RlkeLlDxqUW1Bem5hJh9TsEDhbiaNROgrMAsVByBAXwBi39qFiYY8np01efd4zqdTkej4NWAYWU/s320/2010-04-12.078.jpg" /></a></div><br />
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:: Seed starting for the aforementioned garden. I still have to plan out my layout, companion plantings, and buy starters for whatever doesn't sprout. This year, we saved our Easter egg shells and started sunflowers and pumpkins in the shells. <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUCM52OU8o9oS0FrjRjRiGzcPbjSRD8Bi2FRwEpR-ZKf8uy1rjF-jyNIc21YMQzPXWhW5330NWwpDXtqukXlNEIYyAGWJ6DLQm_typ31OGzbDW0r19ghea2oeSGM2VKgG1IwfxWErgp5Y/s1600/2010-04-12.101.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUCM52OU8o9oS0FrjRjRiGzcPbjSRD8Bi2FRwEpR-ZKf8uy1rjF-jyNIc21YMQzPXWhW5330NWwpDXtqukXlNEIYyAGWJ6DLQm_typ31OGzbDW0r19ghea2oeSGM2VKgG1IwfxWErgp5Y/s320/2010-04-12.101.jpg" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGWfzzTO9TCoI81XIPIUR5a4p1jnGslbCjM4Wv3YC3vzcoxndGGxbR8ndzufaIVi30BIuU5toFkWcZfBkaZOFDgn0WkDVBT1iz9pSN6N2Ca31gzi5gY5o7AuAXRdgv6-mxYCmZFrYbDhM/s1600/2010-04-12.103.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGWfzzTO9TCoI81XIPIUR5a4p1jnGslbCjM4Wv3YC3vzcoxndGGxbR8ndzufaIVi30BIuU5toFkWcZfBkaZOFDgn0WkDVBT1iz9pSN6N2Ca31gzi5gY5o7AuAXRdgv6-mxYCmZFrYbDhM/s320/2010-04-12.103.jpg" /></a></div><br />
:: Many walks on the property. The children have A LOT OF ENERGY and need to let off steam in a large area where the creation of another game along the lines of "Shoe Fighting" can be avoided. We go out into the field and pick weeds, look for birds nesting, track deer, play with our ever-present dogs, and throw things. It is really fun, always different, and makes me love our investment in 10 acres.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZNw7_gu9xX02IPeS2MdV6em3jkb4qKTAiuK_LxjOvnh-zIpWQi0CXO067fvG2F4NLpkVVquAWvxyO-tOyvVFEQOkf4VS3LGTLvBj-RwWf5xiOsHES1bcRwI_BsJOPLLXDGmtdKrVxF0A/s1600/2010-04-12.092.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZNw7_gu9xX02IPeS2MdV6em3jkb4qKTAiuK_LxjOvnh-zIpWQi0CXO067fvG2F4NLpkVVquAWvxyO-tOyvVFEQOkf4VS3LGTLvBj-RwWf5xiOsHES1bcRwI_BsJOPLLXDGmtdKrVxF0A/s320/2010-04-12.092.jpg" /></a></div><br />
:: Playground and friend play dates. At least 4 times a week. The kids are so different from last year. Pequita was already a master at climbing and physical activities. This year, she can (be still my heart) make it up to the tiny, bendy branches in the climbing trees before I even know she's gone. Monito is finally, for the first time, in charge of his body in a way that clearly brings him great satisfaction. He runs, jumps, climbs, and vaults with reckless abandon and much success, something that has eluded him until now. He's seen his sister's mastery for a long time and now it is his turn, which is an obvious thrill. Both kids interact in a whole new way with other little kids. Pequita has made new friends on the playground, and will hold hands and prance off with sweet little girls to find privacy and giggle and play. Monito seems to prefer boys he already knows, but the fact that he wants to interact with anyone other than Mommy is huge. He loves his friends Nate and Desmond because they will rough house with him, and chase, run, sword fight and frolic with him. He woke from his nap today saying that he dreamed of having a tea party with green balloons and cookies and all his buddies were in attendance and then they played pirates until dark, when they lit a bonfire and cooked things all by themselves. This is such a huge developmental leap for him - it is both thrilling and heart breaking for me. My babies are really growing up. Yay! (Sob.)<br />
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:: Organizing. Purging. Yippee! Homestead Mama made me promise not to ever throw any of her stuff away without asking her first. Sadly (for her), she works an hour away and I am home with the clutter of a lifetime of collecting. I have been taking bag after bag of lovely goods to the thrift store and getting my tax deductible receipt for our donation. In the long run, she'll be happy. In the short run, she is thrilled at how the house is looking. Somewhere in between she'll figure out what is happening, but I'm hoping for the best. I made a play kitchen for the kids using some cube shelves from the local unfinished furniture store and a couple things from Lowes. They love it, and by winter they'll probably want to be inside long enough to use it a lot. I still have to cut a door for the 'fridge', but I have a big day of sawing planned for the near future.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBjMHDFlZ374cluDdDnN4bWVUoKGucpTywnpwI2nJTTlyc03XYfWnSUyoFEqgzi4ps8UfzpVHPEGOoN2CSs9HqTa80qP2vt4wUGUrLHBzSuevink6zsk1yu-M95r8XB_NxVtvtIXr3qHI/s1600/2010-04-13.001.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBjMHDFlZ374cluDdDnN4bWVUoKGucpTywnpwI2nJTTlyc03XYfWnSUyoFEqgzi4ps8UfzpVHPEGOoN2CSs9HqTa80qP2vt4wUGUrLHBzSuevink6zsk1yu-M95r8XB_NxVtvtIXr3qHI/s320/2010-04-13.001.jpg" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6fh4G3Vg5-MuuIgmMCZ7p8561wTEhAnybys4h3T9E0Zf0-hhwKdc_VUa_WerrZQoHYZ9qeB5vP00-8phXpRsq8nOZZxrojaLnDlOCChJkk6Q91bJQPP4q04GVx5ds5eVvoqXSfhHdFAk/s1600/2010-04-13.002.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6fh4G3Vg5-MuuIgmMCZ7p8561wTEhAnybys4h3T9E0Zf0-hhwKdc_VUa_WerrZQoHYZ9qeB5vP00-8phXpRsq8nOZZxrojaLnDlOCChJkk6Q91bJQPP4q04GVx5ds5eVvoqXSfhHdFAk/s320/2010-04-13.002.jpg" /></a></div><br />
:: Pirates! Did I mention the pirates? Pequita loves her face paints still, and chooses black and pink. This equals 'Ballerina Pirate' for her. Monito chooses more traditional colors, but they are still actively dressing up and whacking. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgssUm7w9svkE4-7ezQkDBvDI3xtKGw89bdabbkNv6NhT31njAJtWsCGQmhGnm_tjsybszUYcfAXuMS2lc4Uy_gMJ4dQk0nhMav6r6GQ2pXBQaTzWEhiQVV17PVIRVYiynu5Pi6WV2yZmY/s1600/2010-04-09.053.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgssUm7w9svkE4-7ezQkDBvDI3xtKGw89bdabbkNv6NhT31njAJtWsCGQmhGnm_tjsybszUYcfAXuMS2lc4Uy_gMJ4dQk0nhMav6r6GQ2pXBQaTzWEhiQVV17PVIRVYiynu5Pi6WV2yZmY/s320/2010-04-09.053.jpg" /></a></div><br />
:: Pequita is undertaking the effort of reading. I have been resisting the urge to push them, drill letters, numbers, words. I have been tortured in a small way by the kids who can write their names already, or write many words by the time they are 3. My mother was an amazing, patient, skilled teacher of Kindergarten through 3rd grade for over 30 years and suggested that I wait, not push them, and let them lead. All along I've been teaching in the abstract; I read books constantly while tracing words with my finger, spell and sound out words in a general way that they haven't seemed to notice. Both kids can count up to 30 or more with a minimum of 'five-teens' and can sing the alphabet and recognize a few letters. Lately, Pequita has been identifying letters, asking how to spell things, and wanting to "read" to herself and her brother. Yahoo! I feel like the genie is out of the bottle. We are hot and heavy into Pequita-led school now, and she loves it. Her brother is watching and picking things up even as he ignores her. I'm about start having a letter per day that we focus on, which should make a proper game out of it all. Pequita now stops me as I read so that she can 'read' to us; many times her version of the story is much more fun that what was on the page. In the car there is always a big stack of books between their car seats in back. She selects a books, asks Monito what page he wants to read and then narrates the pictures to him. It is a perfectly cooperative experience that they both love.<br />
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:: ASL. Monito asked for <a href="http://www.signingtime.com/">Signing Time</a>, a DVD series we haven't seen in a long time. I started checking them out of the library again and we all hunker down to learn how to sign. The kids really like it, and practice all the time. We are all getting better; Monito takes particular interest and pride in his signing. I can't recommend this series highly enough. It is wonderfully done, fun to watch, and easy to learn from. The songs are catchy enough that I don't mind catching myself singing them in the shower.Homestead Momhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05609656644515059452noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1382977786479187693.post-56391390465049095802010-04-02T22:27:00.000-04:002010-04-02T22:27:05.376-04:00(this moment) (now with pictures)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZ3jyQZRAHMGXD4pdrrDJzWqUfBc_XRGrDngWeyKLw5aIP2faI6qpBPccsm6PxxmHPRdmzJ5LtN_hfGduyVJzpy6ymLZqMRDo4KLY1Y5gCYrifdJW2v2YDHmbjBwklciqG3X9-75Z7LEo/s1600/2010-04-02.001.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZ3jyQZRAHMGXD4pdrrDJzWqUfBc_XRGrDngWeyKLw5aIP2faI6qpBPccsm6PxxmHPRdmzJ5LtN_hfGduyVJzpy6ymLZqMRDo4KLY1Y5gCYrifdJW2v2YDHmbjBwklciqG3X9-75Z7LEo/s320/2010-04-02.001.jpg" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjphvXMW7d3p4moe_0VGK6qDPoGRUoU9_x1Bto5zD8_JqWCTfACUc8Wj1H9ZfcO9K4fWI8G3t0EeAPgh0SHwqiYc2s1MFanfZPbOBJHiNl9h9OJN3WmoA7dL9Sghjy0FvpQNxVXlRJBDko/s1600/2010-04-02.019.TireSwing.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjphvXMW7d3p4moe_0VGK6qDPoGRUoU9_x1Bto5zD8_JqWCTfACUc8Wj1H9ZfcO9K4fWI8G3t0EeAPgh0SHwqiYc2s1MFanfZPbOBJHiNl9h9OJN3WmoA7dL9Sghjy0FvpQNxVXlRJBDko/s320/2010-04-02.019.TireSwing.jpg" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMzCcCyt7EHvREHrahQtAzeSSQfcjAAIkzgaGMXMaB8VxWPGO7WuzONPihziTaVJcz6KB0AuwwKQiUe79mcSxp5jO7lRSjySOaaylIU4jW5AbpHRnPiAgpGgowA4RHUSfOFtRxjCMStuk/s1600/2010-04-02.061.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMzCcCyt7EHvREHrahQtAzeSSQfcjAAIkzgaGMXMaB8VxWPGO7WuzONPihziTaVJcz6KB0AuwwKQiUe79mcSxp5jO7lRSjySOaaylIU4jW5AbpHRnPiAgpGgowA4RHUSfOFtRxjCMStuk/s320/2010-04-02.061.jpg" /></a></div>Homestead Momhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05609656644515059452noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1382977786479187693.post-24803885526245946832010-04-02T13:38:00.001-04:002010-04-02T13:38:14.471-04:00Research<p class="mobile-photo"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhR9JVRvvN4ZPPhoXW-HfbFPLYaXFXxVSyD1ixpVb45QHnybMSmj6BwAUmLQCVi7O_gIkFIBTuhv24rV6PLAufEaO3r_1AaLdHr5VC7tVSdacurhyRD6GCPDt6Q_j8TK6S19cKf6wbkPt8/s1600/2010-04-01+-EB-+UK+Trip+-+Lyme+Regis-794472.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhR9JVRvvN4ZPPhoXW-HfbFPLYaXFXxVSyD1ixpVb45QHnybMSmj6BwAUmLQCVi7O_gIkFIBTuhv24rV6PLAufEaO3r_1AaLdHr5VC7tVSdacurhyRD6GCPDt6Q_j8TK6S19cKf6wbkPt8/s320/2010-04-01+-EB-+UK+Trip+-+Lyme+Regis-794472.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5455595855550668258" /></a></p>My dad set up a quick 10-day trip to London for him and my mother. They are staying in a B&B in Lyme Regis for a few days, then off to a flat in London proper for the rest of the time. The flat is kept by a friend of theirs from church. I've included their view from the B&B. I'm not jealous. I prefer to think of their trip as research for when they accompany us on our next trip over, during which they will offer support and childcare so Homestead Mama and I can spend our evenings sipping wine in cafes instead of doing childcare duty in the hotel room. <br> <br>A girl can dream, at least.<br><br><br> Homestead Momhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05609656644515059452noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1382977786479187693.post-54541232880482573352010-04-02T07:12:00.000-04:002010-04-02T07:11:34.622-04:00This MomentI was awakened by rustlings across the bed at about 6 this morning. Pequita had peed through her sleeping diaper and Homestead Mama was changing her. Then they settled back down together, Pequita cradled in the crook of a warm arm, nursing and aiming my reading flashlight while H-Mama reads an Easter book to her in a breathy whisper. Monito was spread-eagled between us* dozing; in the time it has taken me to type this into my blackberry, he has migrated over to nurse with the other two and a new book has been started. Flashlight ownership will come into play shortly and bargaining for turns will begin.
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<br>I suppose this could count as my gratitude Friday post, eh? I'm grateful that I get to doze and rest in the morning, even though I miss nursing. I know the kids love this stolen time - many mornings Mama has left before they wake up, and she doesn't get home until their bedtime.
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<br>Our day will be filled with errands, hours at the park in the 70 degree sun, naps, and then an afternoon where I work hard to keep my head from exploding as I try to put the house to rights as the children try to play. We are hosting an Easter egg hunt and pot luck brunch on Sunday morning; since it will be cold on that day I'll have to really clean the indoors.
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<br>*the twin bed that now flanks our queen is working great. So much space! Some day the kids will start spending their whole nights in the nursery and H-Mama will go back to our perfectly-sized queen. Probably when the kids get married.Homestead Momhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05609656644515059452noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1382977786479187693.post-87993495886123923652010-03-27T09:29:00.001-04:002010-03-27T09:29:00.260-04:00Amish Horse Auction<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>Over the past weekend, we went to an Amish horse auction. It was our first time, but we'll definitely go back. When we do, I will make a bigger effort to get our daughter to dress less like a princess and emphasize the dignified darker colors. Blending in is ok as a survival tool.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWN7zXp1Kkai17JIsTLVotoHt3vxrLtd9-S-UkcNdE0DJywgRSuMfbhmO7UtRMtt6r8sE5hnDk7sh2YWcJHRL2jZws5e3W6vvwv8dXTKbuIH50hR7a6fVOL3zUG-v4XS491H0nv3jQG6E/s1600/2010-03-20.009.AmishAuction.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWN7zXp1Kkai17JIsTLVotoHt3vxrLtd9-S-UkcNdE0DJywgRSuMfbhmO7UtRMtt6r8sE5hnDk7sh2YWcJHRL2jZws5e3W6vvwv8dXTKbuIH50hR7a6fVOL3zUG-v4XS491H0nv3jQG6E/s320/2010-03-20.009.AmishAuction.jpg" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj70f3IxguzJ6wg3F0fpfJG_-kczW8XuFjrJuo0hzxvsTfKJ_6TlWndJV1xhDavQEBdfu0VrXwZglq1lwq-aqbTLjA1HfUhPEyBLJP-xZQ3F2n6tSfPpVX921iolpSTYukL-k-C0ULpuu4/s1600/2010-03-20.014.AmishAuction.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj70f3IxguzJ6wg3F0fpfJG_-kczW8XuFjrJuo0hzxvsTfKJ_6TlWndJV1xhDavQEBdfu0VrXwZglq1lwq-aqbTLjA1HfUhPEyBLJP-xZQ3F2n6tSfPpVX921iolpSTYukL-k-C0ULpuu4/s320/2010-03-20.014.AmishAuction.jpg" /></a></div><br />
There were many things for sale that we may have enjoyed biddng on but the kids refused to participate in quilt browsing, preferring to frolic with the myriad rabbits, pygmy goats, chooks, or horses - Oh! the horses! Each one had to be cart-driven by one of the hosting Amish men to show off their chops. This fellow seemed to be the local Amish favorite, causing a wave of twitters amongst the young Amish girls I stood next to. He was a handsome fellow, almost making the dutch boy haircut work for him. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5dKI8GRy7fD6UwFPUj75W4wjy-tJs_jhBpl74bswg4vR_JobBJe0jqUE3qWR2Z50YKFaE9mWDRbZWOIUIjkjdUi7cpSVPhMTfuQB8TXvXNDd_577WNx-afxfMEYAI7eXmTdVDTeloUhI/s1600/2010-03-20.017.AmishAuction.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5dKI8GRy7fD6UwFPUj75W4wjy-tJs_jhBpl74bswg4vR_JobBJe0jqUE3qWR2Z50YKFaE9mWDRbZWOIUIjkjdUi7cpSVPhMTfuQB8TXvXNDd_577WNx-afxfMEYAI7eXmTdVDTeloUhI/s320/2010-03-20.017.AmishAuction.jpg" /></a></div><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhORwAvNepKOK4OmrLBLFXQChYkD7aenQ7xA-AkeXImyttMHiWXJp31f38D8jAahH55EL-a9HsdHjkKPfMVVqjzzZgp_cS6uQKRnQ26lKNKYfxaZA-6kOtgK2Y9x9DCBf35EfxJ9Dewnk/s1600/2010-03-20.026.AmishAuction.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhORwAvNepKOK4OmrLBLFXQChYkD7aenQ7xA-AkeXImyttMHiWXJp31f38D8jAahH55EL-a9HsdHjkKPfMVVqjzzZgp_cS6uQKRnQ26lKNKYfxaZA-6kOtgK2Y9x9DCBf35EfxJ9Dewnk/s320/2010-03-20.026.AmishAuction.jpg" /></a></div><br />
It definitely speaks to who I am that I simply couldn't get past the sad fact of all that black suiting made of polyester double-knit. Gack! There is nothing less comfortable, less attractive, and scratchy. It can make you sweat on a 30 degree day, but it does indeed wear like iron. The poor Amish elders must miss the days of wool and cotton.<br />
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There was much physical investment that helped the naps and later bedtimes. Bale jumping, ring around the rosy, and running amongst the barns. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRlTWJ0ND964tgPnlgBrlzkTG6_vLkz6pU9iJlpFZ8gm2BxH9rT-8dVYKWEaIP9y4pUjNA0i1vIosndstd6R08D7gcAQPM3hV4Rr5UApWiaT55HUCx5bm_rcYgZcABcbYYcO-tagMwnXA/s1600/2010-03-20.035.AmishAuction.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRlTWJ0ND964tgPnlgBrlzkTG6_vLkz6pU9iJlpFZ8gm2BxH9rT-8dVYKWEaIP9y4pUjNA0i1vIosndstd6R08D7gcAQPM3hV4Rr5UApWiaT55HUCx5bm_rcYgZcABcbYYcO-tagMwnXA/s320/2010-03-20.035.AmishAuction.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjr9-eQMPDMsjdGmkquLmOgP8_QyPjZNEcFlJ02Txz25mh7-lCyYPZi8pRhFp6CyLqFtsYZ9EUEsUoVt82nVNqN5shvkvepala1GDiEiBVnOjeDUedXp-UpFrtnjxKOWp-gKWCR50dkK2s/s1600/2010-03-20.036.AmishAuction.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjr9-eQMPDMsjdGmkquLmOgP8_QyPjZNEcFlJ02Txz25mh7-lCyYPZi8pRhFp6CyLqFtsYZ9EUEsUoVt82nVNqN5shvkvepala1GDiEiBVnOjeDUedXp-UpFrtnjxKOWp-gKWCR50dkK2s/s320/2010-03-20.036.AmishAuction.jpg" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJ5c9xXMZAkeNlqPH3WNLkKfFcVCiu9s50sKuBkyKa7yEgcIjUm_-SMYU054DQXMc9hoUbQIjPepexda7wDkvu3OoUpFoZ5HVL2ZKvKA110nGktTmm2hihDbTFgeYCHxpGM0KzKalYLGQ/s1600/2010-03-20.027.AmishAuction.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJ5c9xXMZAkeNlqPH3WNLkKfFcVCiu9s50sKuBkyKa7yEgcIjUm_-SMYU054DQXMc9hoUbQIjPepexda7wDkvu3OoUpFoZ5HVL2ZKvKA110nGktTmm2hihDbTFgeYCHxpGM0KzKalYLGQ/s320/2010-03-20.027.AmishAuction.jpg" /></a></div><br />
We passed the parking lot on the way back to our car.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBbWKVcf4dutt04NE2SDm16z-lccDNxX5GKBLLOZT8Yict1XDCENTHEVyUwzcHc174vVteNdGUZaf749b9kZKfU5s6eSymU_HXqq2tju7SwT_9l2lTrBYm33txkYu4EyEQbIhs1ua7vlo/s1600/2010-03-20.038.AmishAuction.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBbWKVcf4dutt04NE2SDm16z-lccDNxX5GKBLLOZT8Yict1XDCENTHEVyUwzcHc174vVteNdGUZaf749b9kZKfU5s6eSymU_HXqq2tju7SwT_9l2lTrBYm33txkYu4EyEQbIhs1ua7vlo/s320/2010-03-20.038.AmishAuction.jpg" /></a></div><br />
Very nice, but I love my Mazda.Homestead Momhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05609656644515059452noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1382977786479187693.post-13604846940319670992010-03-26T23:24:00.001-04:002010-03-26T23:24:07.969-04:00Sylvia Plath channeling June CleaverHaving just posted about how fabulous my evening went, I was going through the post-mortem of the day with Homestead Mama. I described having a hard time keeping my temper this morning and was ready to beat myself up until I realized that it isn't the kids or my mood - it is the multi-tasking that is killing me.<br> <br>At 9:17 this morning I realized that I was in various stages of doing all the following AT THE SAME TIME:<br><br>-feeding the kids<br>-feeding the dogs<br>-packing the diaper bag for the day, including hydration, snacks and lunch; diapers, spare clothes, toys, wallet, phone<br> -washing my hair (in the kitchen sink)<br>-dressing myself<br>-calling 3 doctor's office to get 2009 yearly out-of-pocket expenses mailed to me since I need them for taxes and can't keep track of it myself over the course of a year<br> -dressing Monito (this involves laps in between bits of clothing)<br>-dressing Pequita (this involves NO HELP, but close monitoring to ensure warm clothes and a minimal of filmy princess garments)<br>-making/drinking Earl Grey (I lose my tea mug 47 times a morning; this evening I finally found it on a low shelf next to the potty in the bathroom)<br> -cleaning the breakfast mess up in kitchen<br>-planning the grocery list in case I made it to the store (requires computer)<br>-breaking up a (few) fights between kids<br>-called insurance company to argue an ultrasound not being covered<br> -gathering library books to be returned (forgot a DVD in player)<br>-getting kids dressed in coats, mittens, hats (fuck winter! I'm ready for no layers!)<br>-rushing to get returnable bottles packed in car to cash in at grocery store<br> -re-dressing kids as dramatic play caused them to undress to the skin to play "Beach"<br>-creating new ritual of holding hands in circle and taking deep breaths with children to keep from doing bodily harm; evolved into Ring around the rosy (Thank you, Larry Cohen!***)<br> <br>We made it to the library and home for naps by 12:30, and were up, fed and perky with the house vacuumed and rugs out freshening in the cold winter sun by the time the 10 year old for whom I do after school care got off the bus at 4pm. Nothing to show for the day, but holy moly, I feel like I need a medal. Seriously, I may have to institute a job-review chat once a month with the wife just for the external validation.<br> <br>***Playful Parenting by Lawrence Cohen is the single-most useful book I've read about parenting. I cannot recommend it enough. <br><br><div style="visibility: hidden; display: inline;" id="avg_ls_inline_popup"></div> <style type="text/css">#avg_ls_inline_popup { position:absolute; z-index:9999; padding: 0px 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-top: 0px; width: 240px; overflow: hidden; word-wrap: break-word; color: black; font-size: 10px; text-align: left; line-height: 13px;}</style> Homestead Momhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05609656644515059452noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1382977786479187693.post-39713416630841469442010-03-26T22:34:00.000-04:002010-03-26T22:34:38.022-04:00(this moment)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQblIaXAUy5fPPDqg7_gR4QI_kVWRZJ8eAdz_rFT4KbaS3w9GP9jA3Riyi3f7IcPb9aaJKjDD1sezwzNlDDFAlrjHVFB6OH-aaTd5_wAxVJkvPjFDHVddPdW2aoHiH1UAIMneLet_7WKw/s1600/2010-03-25.080.MaBday.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQblIaXAUy5fPPDqg7_gR4QI_kVWRZJ8eAdz_rFT4KbaS3w9GP9jA3Riyi3f7IcPb9aaJKjDD1sezwzNlDDFAlrjHVFB6OH-aaTd5_wAxVJkvPjFDHVddPdW2aoHiH1UAIMneLet_7WKw/s320/2010-03-25.080.MaBday.jpg" /></a></div><br />
Inspired by <a href="http://www.soulemama.com/soulemama/2010/03/this-moment-3.html">SouleMama</a>.Homestead Momhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05609656644515059452noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1382977786479187693.post-38719263413040369342010-03-26T22:26:00.000-04:002010-03-26T22:26:00.182-04:00They're Here!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>The babies are here. Not the chicks I'd have expected; we are waiting until it is warmer and we have a coop-like structure built. No, the snakes have hatched. We'll have reptiles sunning themselves on our rocks for weeks now whenever the sun is out. I keep meaning to turn the ugly garage cinder block foundation into a lovely painted, raised-bed flower bed but can't because I'm not sure the snakes will keep breeding there if I do. That and a total dearth of extra time and energy, but who's counting.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoymuxMnVinwKvAhk7PfKQkm6hi7OARi4u4YbsWHv3T6XDg0jgZ9BykDSz8AXkW2nb0CmTypGvEj64OIHav3yhKAFrRFzh-M8rXnbU2VZyyJ1cJBFMzwb9v3szQYGs2xNsDIMrIjAXef4/s1600/2010-03-21.023.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoymuxMnVinwKvAhk7PfKQkm6hi7OARi4u4YbsWHv3T6XDg0jgZ9BykDSz8AXkW2nb0CmTypGvEj64OIHav3yhKAFrRFzh-M8rXnbU2VZyyJ1cJBFMzwb9v3szQYGs2xNsDIMrIjAXef4/s320/2010-03-21.023.jpg" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhA5Ab47KC9NjsoQc7xxNyQgZI2tuEHIH3Wcu7OQMAnx-OpqR8X27eB5DZVwddPYKCLeybrpBjob0n19MWABSrFenVqF96mNS1MTd1AnMwf5pVejx-IBJRvKC84c8T8emYnAUSOHAPAyhc/s1600/2010-03-21.024.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhA5Ab47KC9NjsoQc7xxNyQgZI2tuEHIH3Wcu7OQMAnx-OpqR8X27eB5DZVwddPYKCLeybrpBjob0n19MWABSrFenVqF96mNS1MTd1AnMwf5pVejx-IBJRvKC84c8T8emYnAUSOHAPAyhc/s320/2010-03-21.024.jpg" /></a></div>Homestead Momhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05609656644515059452noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1382977786479187693.post-29867900255749645802010-03-26T21:27:00.000-04:002010-03-26T21:27:52.498-04:00June Cleaver Moment<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Most days the children miss their Mama. She works at a demanding job she loves that is an hour away; most nights she doesn't get home until 6:30pm and their bedtime is 7pm. She loves her job and is really good at it. She stands out in a sea of coworkers who are waiting to retire as she works to help a population of people who don't much want to even help themselves. Her job allows me to stay home with my kids, something I've always wanted to do. I only resent it on REALLY tough days, when I'd rather have her with us than helping other people. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">We talk about her a lot during the day. The kids call her several times a week to cry about an imagined slight, an actual cut, describe a new milestone, tell her they love her, or ask if she'll bring home ice cream. I facilitate as much contact as possible but do shoulder much of the child rearing. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">My first attempt at teaching them about days of the week ended up with us having 'week days' and 'Mama Days', a.k.a. Friday night and the weekend. Anticipation of time with Mama is high, and in the most recent developmental spurt, during which our eldest was heartbroken at her Mama spending so much time away from her, we threw the bedtime schedule to the wind and instituted "Mama Friday Nights". Friday is library day and we check out a DVD of a current favorite (right now <b>101 Dalmatians</b> and <b>The Jungle Book</b> are in heavy rotation) along with our books for the week and a book on CD for Mama to listen to during her commute. By dusk on Friday I have the kids bathed, jammied, fed and ready for loving. Mama gets home as early as she is able and retires into the family bed with both kids and a sweet treat to watch their movie, snuggle and nurse to their hearts content. It is the sweetest time for all of them, and I am not remembered until hugs are required right before they are sent to sleep in the nursery 90 minutes later. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Many weeks by Friday night I am haggard, hair sticking out, nerves frazzled, kids watching Little Bear on TV and me scrabbling to feed us all. Today, though, was one of those magic times where I was able to present my beloved with a vacuumed and swept home, aired out with frigid-but-fresh air and Nag Champa incense, clean kids, dogs fed, harmony abounding and good food cooling on the counter. I made a meal from Epicurious, <a href="http://tinyurl.com/SpicyBeefCobbler">Spicy Beef Cobbler.</a> Of course, I used our free-range beef, put in black beans, used whole wheat flour and halved the cayenne so the kids would eat it. HUGE HIT!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">So I get to feel like a proper stay-at-home success story. Lord knows H-Mama doesn't expect it, but I like to feel like a successful professional mom who has it all well in hand. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVsrwDtMezkoHdHUEgV2bmJ3scVjz-FW1P7O-twLCZqHetJ5PT-_dCEbVXxGIRgl68q45EeCbApam_RJ27CdCoX69h8doJm5HV7cVi0WYTLtrA8mkQLhFUdK_tY8L4v-p2gQD_Xw4qoJA/s1600/2010-03-26.083.SpicyBeefcornbread.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVsrwDtMezkoHdHUEgV2bmJ3scVjz-FW1P7O-twLCZqHetJ5PT-_dCEbVXxGIRgl68q45EeCbApam_RJ27CdCoX69h8doJm5HV7cVi0WYTLtrA8mkQLhFUdK_tY8L4v-p2gQD_Xw4qoJA/s320/2010-03-26.083.SpicyBeefcornbread.jpg" /></a></div>Homestead Momhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05609656644515059452noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1382977786479187693.post-75055160207095168992010-03-21T00:33:00.001-04:002010-03-21T00:33:09.265-04:00BarbasolI discovered today that my pillow wafts the scent of shaving cream. <p>Every morning that my father is visiting he and my son shave each other; being a trusting man, he willingly hands over the razor to my not-quite-three year old and coaches his razor around the terrain of his face. My dad said that he feels as though he goes through a can of shaving cream per visit, as there are days when Monito shaves two or three times. So now I will fall asleep with my pillow whispering to me about love and connections and family, trust and bonding and manly rituals. <p>Sweet dreams indeed.Homestead Momhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05609656644515059452noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1382977786479187693.post-39871897456029784172010-03-21T00:09:00.001-04:002010-03-21T00:09:13.181-04:00Standoff<p class="mobile-photo"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrvkSK_oTCCZ0qlgHJm7s5z4NM98i2pVMHfZ2BEAY57jM8sCTNq_ZQXZ1TNhtrMdjDEUd1VFMCALO5-usi2KEMOd3sPsGAqCvYC7Pxl7HiPQlKwQ3hyaARV1Ywf8dYMnwaL9ARi0dFsRY/s1600-h/2010-03-20.045.TreedCoon-753182.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrvkSK_oTCCZ0qlgHJm7s5z4NM98i2pVMHfZ2BEAY57jM8sCTNq_ZQXZ1TNhtrMdjDEUd1VFMCALO5-usi2KEMOd3sPsGAqCvYC7Pxl7HiPQlKwQ3hyaARV1Ywf8dYMnwaL9ARi0dFsRY/s320/2010-03-20.045.TreedCoon-753182.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5450934352905841506" /></a></p>We returned from our outing this morning to witness this entertaining sight. Dad and I may have encouraged the dogs to keep the raccoon treed until the second car with the kids arrived so they could see our dogs in action and admire the raccoon, but we did hold the dogs back when the raccoon descended.<br> <br><br> Homestead Momhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05609656644515059452noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1382977786479187693.post-31734521729588901302010-03-19T23:21:00.000-04:002010-03-19T23:21:30.921-04:00Gratitude Friday<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>My parents are in town this weekend. I am grateful that they are expecting to move here - to the house we own across the street! - next summer.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWM3feHWKAFqvzTBcmLnWoq6PUDwe9sUCVctUHT7dSpztMuSOopg_xLvtVLr4WPQFnsx-qka0z_8K1-sGUwFbRAJbZGrsvKiY4BMJFS5JZtldbb6EpSHRyQJiIHFx8x6fUNTTHibeWFiY/s1600-h/2010-03-19.WildflowerPreserve.022+.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWM3feHWKAFqvzTBcmLnWoq6PUDwe9sUCVctUHT7dSpztMuSOopg_xLvtVLr4WPQFnsx-qka0z_8K1-sGUwFbRAJbZGrsvKiY4BMJFS5JZtldbb6EpSHRyQJiIHFx8x6fUNTTHibeWFiY/s320/2010-03-19.WildflowerPreserve.022+.jpg" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjG2yF3nlZEzPHf3jU5J8pVQlx2M7iV5Eh_wV_xhYOv6AtsBHVnYMIum4AsJnstsJSy2bYmQ0rfKZBguq_urdPsCcM_9tQulb3DGIdkjQ-S-VGJoaYsRAS4YqDEsju49RPQZ_Bluar9f3c/s1600-h/2010-03-19.WildflowerPreserve.023+.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjG2yF3nlZEzPHf3jU5J8pVQlx2M7iV5Eh_wV_xhYOv6AtsBHVnYMIum4AsJnstsJSy2bYmQ0rfKZBguq_urdPsCcM_9tQulb3DGIdkjQ-S-VGJoaYsRAS4YqDEsju49RPQZ_Bluar9f3c/s320/2010-03-19.WildflowerPreserve.023+.jpg" /></a></div><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>I am grateful for my my clean car; I took a nap with the kids and my mother washed, vacuumed and detailed the whole thing. I don't know what the kids will snack on now that the stray Cheerios and Goldfish have been removed from between their carseats. Look - you can see the carpet!<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7Y8h5TuMoOR6eB67t9ptV8BSXOutIEUPlW6XkKXLd39MK7eH2Z0mSZGivXpW0Qv-vBUXybSjS2GyR_oBXhTMlMV-anTyuHraFK8GpwD2OsBbqkJEZF6zCnHjELCd6zGYQn14CINw_y9I/s1600-h/2010-03-19.CleanCar.003.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7Y8h5TuMoOR6eB67t9ptV8BSXOutIEUPlW6XkKXLd39MK7eH2Z0mSZGivXpW0Qv-vBUXybSjS2GyR_oBXhTMlMV-anTyuHraFK8GpwD2OsBbqkJEZF6zCnHjELCd6zGYQn14CINw_y9I/s320/2010-03-19.CleanCar.003.jpg" /></a></div><br />
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I am grateful for spring! We spent the whole day outside - playground in the morning and a hike at a nearby wildflower preserve in the afternoon. Warm sun, sweet smelling air, and grandparents. Nothing better, save for weekends when Homestead Mama can join too.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjt6eYgNGJH_GLV8DHWlFbgYBQztnRx4sOSDiPqns10tvv4QJvp-0laLE2PB4l23Eo7vDbD2h73jesseQ8Gx8qocGs6fMFjpD66dpAdAs_ggJyNMilC47Fdw-FtREoCG_g_Co1RG3u95FU/s1600-h/2010-03-19.011.TremanPark.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjt6eYgNGJH_GLV8DHWlFbgYBQztnRx4sOSDiPqns10tvv4QJvp-0laLE2PB4l23Eo7vDbD2h73jesseQ8Gx8qocGs6fMFjpD66dpAdAs_ggJyNMilC47Fdw-FtREoCG_g_Co1RG3u95FU/s320/2010-03-19.011.TremanPark.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhw9FtpU1kDDiAv2DHBabRBofMWbsP6QTCatk7SsGtOuhaJGp22gKdGkFbzeMKi94ycWa3tbVlFDlT_tnzhiNuzHi1jA9IwCBnh5j9X2iHn-mv5_jw4wXd3xilCa9now5R5p3xz-CeWyU8/s1600-h/2010-03-19.008.TremanPark.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhw9FtpU1kDDiAv2DHBabRBofMWbsP6QTCatk7SsGtOuhaJGp22gKdGkFbzeMKi94ycWa3tbVlFDlT_tnzhiNuzHi1jA9IwCBnh5j9X2iHn-mv5_jw4wXd3xilCa9now5R5p3xz-CeWyU8/s320/2010-03-19.008.TremanPark.jpg" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhG97l7YhnnLqzhLKKeXObLSyPARxcbMvFc8zUazFDirA-u8oT0KjrH5wv1Z5KINi3zTMPWnyBwPWFzJ1sGhbqGHpZ2gmCwo7U7pgdiYeR3yFuKBp_eELS61mKXm-6Zb283Pj9HyhWwAOU/s1600-h/2010-03-19.006.TremanPark.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhG97l7YhnnLqzhLKKeXObLSyPARxcbMvFc8zUazFDirA-u8oT0KjrH5wv1Z5KINi3zTMPWnyBwPWFzJ1sGhbqGHpZ2gmCwo7U7pgdiYeR3yFuKBp_eELS61mKXm-6Zb283Pj9HyhWwAOU/s320/2010-03-19.006.TremanPark.jpg" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6LTOfDZyEMp-JCpDKJ1LubBiOdT2DmAZy3ayWCYTsdTTB-RtB8kEbsxGXAv2He5Ed4Qqj9hmplmwg4zcd1myp695fZpY7iyOIOGlM8WbIKf780hDMt9Ks0wqfQYo8kkSZNxBjAINbv0s/s1600-h/2010-03-19.WildflowerPreserve.008+.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6LTOfDZyEMp-JCpDKJ1LubBiOdT2DmAZy3ayWCYTsdTTB-RtB8kEbsxGXAv2He5Ed4Qqj9hmplmwg4zcd1myp695fZpY7iyOIOGlM8WbIKf780hDMt9Ks0wqfQYo8kkSZNxBjAINbv0s/s320/2010-03-19.WildflowerPreserve.008+.jpg" /></a></div><br />
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I am grateful to be able to tell my parents all the time that I love them, that I see now, as a parent myself, how hard it was to raise three kids close in age and do such a good job of it. I am grateful I had kids in time for them to have a chance to know and adore their grandparents.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifQHFrv6VQWEkxqXb7WD5BM_j7PI-6-qDRezKZE8fvRNidgTLH0kyNcAtUnlqiw_YSroj4diziN9dY3m9p7XBTiIY6E2CMQZvBbe6oVmfCrLdpvZ0Ds3c1DdvCcMu-z1sgXsvmrK2l3RY/s1600-h/2010-03-19.WildflowerPreserve.054+.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifQHFrv6VQWEkxqXb7WD5BM_j7PI-6-qDRezKZE8fvRNidgTLH0kyNcAtUnlqiw_YSroj4diziN9dY3m9p7XBTiIY6E2CMQZvBbe6oVmfCrLdpvZ0Ds3c1DdvCcMu-z1sgXsvmrK2l3RY/s320/2010-03-19.WildflowerPreserve.054+.jpg" /></a></div>Homestead Momhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05609656644515059452noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1382977786479187693.post-30531439676041302772010-03-19T22:52:00.000-04:002010-03-19T22:52:20.767-04:00Signs of Spring<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>Wonderful people all over the blogosphere are posting myriad pictures of lovely spring images, snowdrops, buds, seed trays covered in tiny sprouts, kids in short sleeved shirts.<br />
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What does spring mean to me? The snakes are back! They slip out of the cracks in our garage foundation in order to sun themselves on nearby rocks. In a few weeks we'll have many baby snakes to keep the adults company. <a href="http://tinyurl.com/springsnakes">It could be worse</a>.<br />
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I love spring!Homestead Momhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05609656644515059452noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1382977786479187693.post-29514546099748753192010-03-11T11:38:00.001-05:002010-03-11T11:38:08.268-05:009mm BouquetPequita: Mommy, I love Monito best of all, that's why we get married. I wear a beautiful white gown and have flowers and a spahkly wing. <p>Monito: Ok, Pequita, you my best fwiend. But I want a shooter gun with my dwess, not flowers.Homestead Momhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05609656644515059452noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1382977786479187693.post-87896219381078140442010-02-28T23:21:00.002-05:002010-02-28T23:38:45.208-05:00Milestone # 6,492Banana splits. They will definitely be coming back for a second round.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4xlhNEEPDMJiKxX_cnab1z5sBsAYyubg2M_KoQNDm9_uacwpUj2hgB1biLIQ8C3rEtWH3PFNEitMJwak3ddq9EDyir2hTPEFudsLiMU_MOMRvqN45elRQ4uoGzyEoVP5bii7RY1RLSBo/s1600-h/2010-02-22.001.sundae.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4xlhNEEPDMJiKxX_cnab1z5sBsAYyubg2M_KoQNDm9_uacwpUj2hgB1biLIQ8C3rEtWH3PFNEitMJwak3ddq9EDyir2hTPEFudsLiMU_MOMRvqN45elRQ4uoGzyEoVP5bii7RY1RLSBo/s320/2010-02-22.001.sundae.jpg" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnj6WorLAm0P4kO_wGK4Gi9BZkDWgkUPETOOrpVwT8UqPp0aMHrAC31saYWL7NPZ3nYuj5-Fg8jSpcNRbWs-f51jhOkIAb3Dj0a2LyYYYTQddV2kBF121WtZl7DylpnVJL1bzrfz77u6Q/s1600-h/2010-02-22.002.Sundae.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnj6WorLAm0P4kO_wGK4Gi9BZkDWgkUPETOOrpVwT8UqPp0aMHrAC31saYWL7NPZ3nYuj5-Fg8jSpcNRbWs-f51jhOkIAb3Dj0a2LyYYYTQddV2kBF121WtZl7DylpnVJL1bzrfz77u6Q/s320/2010-02-22.002.Sundae.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9GYAgQV9Wm5aq3gdkqENxIAv89bPMP4gOlJkjCxbSsZVU1rD88uMtrLCsDH0njVInTxzuC8dOZpjOEja5lzmJDBRaVDb80IixYI1YYyr2wnRgQfVhAl64Rz3DtFkONYTi_jVLg1nTQMo/s1600-h/2010-02-22.004.sundae.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9GYAgQV9Wm5aq3gdkqENxIAv89bPMP4gOlJkjCxbSsZVU1rD88uMtrLCsDH0njVInTxzuC8dOZpjOEja5lzmJDBRaVDb80IixYI1YYyr2wnRgQfVhAl64Rz3DtFkONYTi_jVLg1nTQMo/s320/2010-02-22.004.sundae.jpg" /></a></div><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWAYopWvrzgZob8Ae1gq7TROPUSmoSZF3xVE-zIdZE_t4UkQYKlDMk5DUZ1NKk9MAfpBMhrdx9knqoS-wg1IZ0s7JaNlGdUfgCMJn4k1HnunOK68jfvgeqTeLeKYCES3Z0eIw_JInyW98/s1600-h/2010-02-22.005.sundae.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWAYopWvrzgZob8Ae1gq7TROPUSmoSZF3xVE-zIdZE_t4UkQYKlDMk5DUZ1NKk9MAfpBMhrdx9knqoS-wg1IZ0s7JaNlGdUfgCMJn4k1HnunOK68jfvgeqTeLeKYCES3Z0eIw_JInyW98/s320/2010-02-22.005.sundae.jpg" /></a></div>Homestead Momhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05609656644515059452noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1382977786479187693.post-30519098397243824772010-02-28T23:12:00.001-05:002010-02-28T23:20:57.239-05:00Grandpa is Game<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>Boy, is grandpa game. We have very specific rules about playing with swords or "shooter-guns", the theoretical weapon Monito barely knows about. No pain is involved, no actual body-whacking is usually involved. Then grandpa comes to visit and allows a full-on pirate play bonanza. There was dressing up, there was Argh-ing, there were weapon malfunctioning as they were beaten into a pile of plastic, foam and coats-of-arms.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0l2sbaW8OSrN6bOPL5GUHxgMheewLwPeP3cFw2B_32_7JTnIx9rhla97ZU_9V0TptJ2EpNfetGbq2aBqk4aZFVTxABA0ac9S2jTaAL3b9bUlhXbq4WAqR0wCwGd4O6Skv6g7NDewH3n0/s1600-h/2010-02-21+-NA-+Griffin+Fred+Pirate.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0l2sbaW8OSrN6bOPL5GUHxgMheewLwPeP3cFw2B_32_7JTnIx9rhla97ZU_9V0TptJ2EpNfetGbq2aBqk4aZFVTxABA0ac9S2jTaAL3b9bUlhXbq4WAqR0wCwGd4O6Skv6g7NDewH3n0/s320/2010-02-21+-NA-+Griffin+Fred+Pirate.JPG" /></a></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2XJoie1HSHO-SJ-UqVRn0I9grX3vdnPA-uaUqfd-bOMjVBk7YyuHcxn7tZkHFx8ptqaS-ocrjscrThy3q-4wPENrrFtVziHbLWzoZY8JyHMaXRVPYm0vmxOyEcCH_ADuE2iXCEOeMRs0/s1600-h/2010-02-21+-NO-+Griffin+Fred+Pirate.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2XJoie1HSHO-SJ-UqVRn0I9grX3vdnPA-uaUqfd-bOMjVBk7YyuHcxn7tZkHFx8ptqaS-ocrjscrThy3q-4wPENrrFtVziHbLWzoZY8JyHMaXRVPYm0vmxOyEcCH_ADuE2iXCEOeMRs0/s1600-h/2010-02-21+-NO-+Griffin+Fred+Pirate.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>Grandpa spent most of the time on the floor, which gave Monito a clear sense of advantage. He was merciless.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2XJoie1HSHO-SJ-UqVRn0I9grX3vdnPA-uaUqfd-bOMjVBk7YyuHcxn7tZkHFx8ptqaS-ocrjscrThy3q-4wPENrrFtVziHbLWzoZY8JyHMaXRVPYm0vmxOyEcCH_ADuE2iXCEOeMRs0/s1600-h/2010-02-21+-NO-+Griffin+Fred+Pirate.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2XJoie1HSHO-SJ-UqVRn0I9grX3vdnPA-uaUqfd-bOMjVBk7YyuHcxn7tZkHFx8ptqaS-ocrjscrThy3q-4wPENrrFtVziHbLWzoZY8JyHMaXRVPYm0vmxOyEcCH_ADuE2iXCEOeMRs0/s320/2010-02-21+-NO-+Griffin+Fred+Pirate.JPG" /></a></div><br />
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There was about 20 minutes of play before they retired to the couch to watch Peter Pan and admire the sword-fighting skills of Captain Hook and Pan. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMh0QJnH8jPIky2azVONTOHP2WyEDyxfDmHufj-HuKN_opv7INRGYr8SvzkzjnH6od2Ct5_D70NFUFXSk66NTb_YpZ7mYZMUkqsRDtW_fWtFBTrPY9hoAzIODKIyjMK8PI4MKN-PDlMBU/s1600-h/2010-02-21+-NQ-+Griffin+Fred+Pirate.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMh0QJnH8jPIky2azVONTOHP2WyEDyxfDmHufj-HuKN_opv7INRGYr8SvzkzjnH6od2Ct5_D70NFUFXSk66NTb_YpZ7mYZMUkqsRDtW_fWtFBTrPY9hoAzIODKIyjMK8PI4MKN-PDlMBU/s320/2010-02-21+-NQ-+Griffin+Fred+Pirate.JPG" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFZzHQ9gB1Nt4Bw6yQcjcv4tQ9co9_Gz4xgxL55Jq-I8rQph-peexeIFmgl9do3DfP6RmN9rqPyysZcfONg7WYOF9y17-5DQMbkG9QTuZ0vPUiO3OnoBvX9hEU0YspI3HsTKJZ2lExMwM/s1600-h/2010-02-21+-NR-+Griffin+Fred+Pirate.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFZzHQ9gB1Nt4Bw6yQcjcv4tQ9co9_Gz4xgxL55Jq-I8rQph-peexeIFmgl9do3DfP6RmN9rqPyysZcfONg7WYOF9y17-5DQMbkG9QTuZ0vPUiO3OnoBvX9hEU0YspI3HsTKJZ2lExMwM/s320/2010-02-21+-NR-+Griffin+Fred+Pirate.JPG" /></a></div><br />
There was a little love expressed, too. This boy LOVES his grandpa. It has taken a full week to deprogram the fighting free-for-all skills. We now have Homestead Rules and Grandpa Rules for duels. We can't wait for the next altercation.Homestead Momhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05609656644515059452noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1382977786479187693.post-44751797507643781502010-02-27T17:28:00.001-05:002010-02-27T17:28:07.160-05:00My days are filled with the regular kamikaze, full-on, balls-to-the-wall, trial by fire, never-a-dull-moment stuff that dreams are made of. We are playing in the snow, baking up a storm, Playmobil-ing with a vengeance, and watching movies that I remember loving as a young child. (Disney's The Sword in the Stone right now; it is good for the bairn to know about Merlin and be able to pronounce Archimedes, even if they think he is an owl.)
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<br>However, Homestead Mama is away at work from dawn until about 10 minutes before the children's bedtime on the days we are lucky; 2 out of 5 days for the past few weeks she's missed them entirely. We've been stuck at home for the past two days as we got almost 2 feet of snow and the roads were sketchy. After yelling at my son this morning then bursting into tears, I figured out that I may need a teensy little recharge.
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<br>I left the kids with their Mama and went to the library with a decaf latte in my hand. I am sitting now eating Tom Yum soup and reading books alone in a quiet restaurant. After this, I shall go to the bookstore and sit reading glossy knitting and decor books until I am purged of all thoughts of drudgery and the routinization of my life. I'm not sure if I'll go back for bedtime - poor Monito is a tad Mommy-focused these days (=past 32 months) and he cries so when I'm not there.
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<br>I'll bring home some Panang curry for my wife, though. Its the least I can do.
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<br>Hopefully tomorrow will be brighter. Monday I go to get my thyroid levels checked, and join the nearby gym. Bugger this winter blues crap!Homestead Momhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05609656644515059452noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1382977786479187693.post-86919485635265872010-02-13T17:17:00.000-05:002010-02-13T17:17:21.230-05:00(Almost) Valentine's DayThe boy and I woke early. <br />
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Read: Monito woke at 7 am, and performed his version of laying perfectly still. This entails lots of jiggling, sighing, standing up to adjust his pillow and flopping back down. When he isn't bashing his huge hard noggin into me like a billy goat [damn all those farm books we read]* he is the snuggliest child ever. When we wake up next to each other he presses his forehead to mine, rubs our noses together and presses his hot little palm against my cheek while crooning through his spit-covered pacifier, "Mommy, are you awake yet?" He really does try to allow us to keep sleeping, but I was downstairs by 7:14 nonetheless. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>Luckily, we had a box from my parents full of Valentine's Day gifts for the kids. I let Monito open his up as I made tea. My mother is an amazing gift shopper. She totally hit the nail on the head with the puzzle she gave to my boy who is not into puzzles. It is a huge puzzle - 2' x 3' - made of cardboard so thick that in 15 minutes of play the boy had been unable to bend or crack any of the pieces. It has pieces inside other pieces, so I could put together the main puzzle and then he could find the places for the little pieces. There are also game cards with questions about all the little pieces in riddle so he has to think about habitats, habits and functions in order to guess which animal/object the riddle is asking about. Amazing! His older sister, who is already doing 100+ piece puzzles by herself, was also amused. Win/ win, Mom! Of course, after a short stint as a puzzle it became fodder for the CRANE! This is the fate of all things in our house. <br />
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*I just had a <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bracket">most enlightening moment</a> checking punctuation. I am only a geek of a medium order, but have good company. Hi, Noona! Hi, Jill!Homestead Momhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05609656644515059452noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1382977786479187693.post-8138090250029700732010-02-10T15:08:00.001-05:002010-02-10T15:08:44.139-05:00Sweet DreamsImmediately upon waking I usually get the dream check in from the kids. Today, Monito sat straight up and said, "My have good nap. I dweamed about carousels, spinning wheels and doctors offices." <p>Pequita is more excited about her growth right now ever since I told her we heal and grow while we sleep. She stood up with her arms outstretched and said "Look. At. My. Body. I'm huger!"<p>Me? I didn't sleep but got a lot of blogs read and rested. I love nap time and my Blackberry equally.Homestead Momhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05609656644515059452noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1382977786479187693.post-57858343440961619922010-02-09T23:26:00.001-05:002010-02-09T23:26:22.352-05:00The HeartPequita is going through a shift right now. She is now in a retreat position and freaked out by all the new things she has already mastered. She is suddenly asking to be dressed instead of shoving us away when we try to help. She is shy again around non-family members. After a prolonged session of unexplained wailing and flailing last night, I got her to settle down by arranging for her to spend some time piggybacking in the Ergo carrier on H-Mama's back because she needed the closeness. H-Mama was home from work sick Monday and the first thing that Peuqita did was ask for more Ergo time with her. Clearly, my daughter is in a down cycle. <p>She very much wants to be independent and not have to listen to us or do what we say. She has taken to freezing her body,expression, and actions - except for a barely perceptible arched eyebrow - when she is grabbed by the desire to defy us. As always (at least once I've figured out what's going on) I've been introducing the language she will need to get herself out of these predicaments, which is conveniently the verbal flag *I* need to stop treating her like the kid she was last week. All week we've been talking about independence, having the space she needs to make her own choices in her own time, and the best way to get what she wants. (Screaming unintelligibly? Not so productive. Reasoning with Mommy? Two thumnbs up!) We are definitely on the path; a few minutes into the latest screaming sobfest today I discerned that the sound that I *thought* was her soul dying was her repeating, "My need to be indepeeeeeeendeeeeeent." I'm taking that as progress. <p>This morning, Pequita had several meltdowns. The last one evolved as she staggered up the stairs on our way to naps, all the way through getting her book selected and her sleep diaper put on, and into bed. The actual nap happened as always, with me sandwiched between her and Monito. Three books, some discussion about what was going to happen after naps, and they are out like lights. <p>Pequita awoke with a start ninety minutes later to find me reading, and whispered, "Mommy. I am happier now. My heart is not angry now and my body is not angry. I love you SO MUCH my heart is full of love."<p>Wonderful, right? Except maybe one day we can skip the screaming part! She does hear through her fugue states, though, as proven after her brief cry when she didn't get to select the music for the player in the nursery tonight. I took her aside so H-Mama could keep getting Monito tucked in and gave her a drink of water. Once she had regained her composure she repeated back to me what I croon to her when I hold her through these upsetting episodes, "Mommy, it is really HARD being three.". <p>Amen, sister.Homestead Momhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05609656644515059452noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1382977786479187693.post-54966664228442531662010-02-06T08:56:00.001-05:002010-02-06T08:56:33.500-05:00Argh!When awakened by the snuggliest, dearest, cheek caressing, finger-lacing hand-holding boy at 6:20 am, there is really only one thing to do. Snuggle on the couch in the half-light of morning, each clutching our favorite things - a foam sword and a mug of steaming half-caf - tangled up together and allow ourselves to be transported to Neverland. My boy, who now denounces his real name for a pirate name for a portion of each day, loves Peter Pan as much as I did as a child. Pequita also loves to join in the magical play, but is distracted easily. Monito sleeps with his sword. The favorite curse in our house at the moment is "You codfish!"<p>My kids are hitting the really fun play stage and I adore it. However, to keep us humble it happens to occur concurrently with the super-moody tantrum-heavy phase that hits in the late-twos, early-threes. Two steps forward, one step back.Homestead Momhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05609656644515059452noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1382977786479187693.post-32412926854621759392010-02-04T12:28:00.001-05:002010-02-04T12:31:47.883-05:00This Week, 2008A short two years ago. Just look at them. I am already wistful for years past, which seems hard since they are still little kids.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFSO_9zh2kT5U9ikZM4Ab1Y7ean0T_kVONxFDhuFqOelPUnHXFb2f2yEtufKBTWPYia6ZuhvJZPZg44NG14qkIgox5oOedSi7C0_z7iDdDm0qsSrG_bfLYjK_M9FB1vWohcYWnxFObtAg/s1600-h/2008-02-03.008.MS.GR.Tubbie.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFSO_9zh2kT5U9ikZM4Ab1Y7ean0T_kVONxFDhuFqOelPUnHXFb2f2yEtufKBTWPYia6ZuhvJZPZg44NG14qkIgox5oOedSi7C0_z7iDdDm0qsSrG_bfLYjK_M9FB1vWohcYWnxFObtAg/s320/2008-02-03.008.MS.GR.Tubbie.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5434442175357829522" border="0" /></a>Homestead Momhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05609656644515059452noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1382977786479187693.post-52615320015003443592010-02-04T12:18:00.003-05:002010-02-04T12:24:27.596-05:00Three Short YearsThis month in 2007.<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPyTsaJpKHl2wWre6eaI6MJz3f_25q0dN8jb-RaiPuqBbv2HrZptZumtAR0GHruYZXgaFato-HFDeJBv8UwlEhsTzcx91fkvRGBFqDiHZ6CsPpz4TFmBwzDKYMlPIbFObRohnJunJQfF4/s1600-h/2007-02-15.Monito6mosMS.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPyTsaJpKHl2wWre6eaI6MJz3f_25q0dN8jb-RaiPuqBbv2HrZptZumtAR0GHruYZXgaFato-HFDeJBv8UwlEhsTzcx91fkvRGBFqDiHZ6CsPpz4TFmBwzDKYMlPIbFObRohnJunJQfF4/s320/2007-02-15.Monito6mosMS.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5434440088579030290" border="0" /></a>That big blurry thing at the bottom? My 6-month pregnant belly full of Monito.Homestead Momhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05609656644515059452noreply@blogger.com0