Go Forth and Label!

So we’re a peanut-free household here at the ranch… Have been since the first day Mr. Man swelled up. And no one bemoans the fact very often any more. It’s just the way things are.

But The Munchkins are away from home more often than not between school, afterschool activities, and here in just a few weeks’ time…summer camp.  Now I’m not what you might call an overprotective parent, but when I get the “your son may have accidentally eaten a peanut butter granola bar…” calls (and they do come every so often) I want to wrap the kid in a bubble. It’s a little terrifying. So anything that can set my mind at ease, even just a little, is a welcome thing.

Enter kidecals stage left.

The fine folks over at kidecals.com approached me to give the product a whirl a day after The Monkey came home in tears having had to miss out on a friends birthday treat because…you guessed it…peanuts. I hopped right on their website and ordered up a batch of “No Peanuts!” Allergy alert stickers.

The Munchkins normally aren’t fond of anything that makes them stick out too far in a crowd, so they’ve never been terribly excited about allergy alert bracelets and the like, but stickers? 

 

What kid doesn’t like stickers?!?

A Medium sized order netted me 12 Medium Size decals and 24 small decals, perfect for lunch boxes, bookbags, sandwhich containers, overnight bags, anywhere The Munchkins might roam without me.

So far the decals have survived hand washing and a trip through the dishwasher with no visible wear & tear and no peeling off! Ditto the actual washer when one decal got left on a shirt. These things really do stick!  And, with summer camp quickly approaching, I can’t think of a better time to pre-label…well…everything.

The site has such a gorgeous array of all kinds of decals – you can slap your kiddos’ name and design of choice on a variety of decal shapes and sizes.  Their labels stick to any surface – including clothing – and are waterproof, dishwasher and washing machine safe. Woah. They also offer custom labels for birthdays, weddings or other special events; as well as hand-painted kids wall decals for the insta-mural effect.

And the best part? Are you ready? FREE SHIPPING.
No lie. They offer free shipping on every order! Win!

The decals arrived within a week of order in some pretty darn adorable packaging, and we’ve already run through almost the entire sheet of decals!  I’m pretty jazzed about those sweet little chalkboard style decals they offer as well…I might just have to place an order for myself here again soon!

 

If you're considering the folks over at kidecals came through with a pretty clutch offer and are giving you lovelies 15% off your next order just for being here. All you have to do is punch in the code: blinkblog at checkout to receive your discount.

You can also find them online over here  as well as facebook, twitter, instagram and, of course, pinterest!

Now, go forth, and label!

Accidental Discoveries

A Few things I learned while hiking today:

1. My father still uses everything as a teaching device, even a fall.
Especially a fall.

2. My children never sit still. Apparently this is not unusual

3. If one sits still in nature, one gets left behind. Sitting still isn't always a good thing

4. Canyon walls were meant to be climbed.

5. Point 4 was meant to be both literal and figurative. No one ever got very far in life by leaving their feet on the ground. You're welcome. 

6. My mother is still the adventurous one. I still have trouble keeping up with her after all these years.

7. I remain steady in potential crisis situations. I'm not bragging especially, as I believe this is a learned trait. Pops was always the calm eye of the storm when we were growing up. And, somewhere along the middle point of trail #3 this afternoon, we found ourselves dually transporting The Monkey across a fairly sheer rock wall with a few inches of depth for foot holds and very few handholds. We were light years behind the rest of our party, and took turns letting The Monkey hold one of our hands while encouraging her, slowly; keeping eye contact over her head and trying not to smile at the absurdity of the entire situation - crab-walking our way across a canyon; a fair fall from the creekbed below.

Sometimes, life can be like that, though. Sometimes you make the best of a muddy situation and work to remind yourself and those closest to you that there's no rush. No hurry. No need to try and keep up with the other half. Even when your heart beats steadily to the tune of 'hurry...hurry...faster...faster...' you've got to remember that life won't go on without you, even if it seems that way. Life remains, steadfastly, where you've left it when your sanity takes a little vacation. Much like ours did when convincing ourselves that taking a five-year-old across a rock wall with little-to-no-purchase was a totally valid way to spend a Tuesday afternoon... 

8. Some of my best days have occurred out of doors.  While I still maintain that I'm a bit of a homebody, there is nothing like setting off for the day with the sun warm on your head and the crunch of dried leaves underfoot to make you feel alive.

9. These are the days I want my kids to remember.
I still remember entire weekends spent camping and hiking across state parks from my own childhood. They're some of my fondest memories...and I'm going to go ahead and allow for the fact that I've completely blocked any arguing from my memory...ditto crying and/or whining that occurred in the car before and after the hiking trips...ditto any falls or spills that at the time were surely tragic in the extreme. This gives me hope. This tells me that, surely, The Munchkins will gloss over the rough edges of some of our more adventurous weekends and look back fondly on these excursions; blocking from their memory the whining and crying and arguing over the last chocolate chip cookie on the car ride home.

10. As much joy as there is in the hike, there's something to be said for crossing the suspension bridge back toward the head of the trail. Knowing there's a finish line out there waiting for you makes a trail manageable in some respects.

And if we can finish a trail...finish one hike...manage one day...why not two?
We are capable of so much more than we give ourselves credit for.
Sometimes it just takes falling in a little mud to remind us of that...

Vacation Hangover

It’s amazing what phrases have the ability to resonate with you before your first cup of coffee.

A coworker and I were attempting to make a pot of coffee this morning at work. I know, I know, let the “how many people does it take” jokes begin.  And, in true, Office Space style, we’d actually forgotten to turn the coffee pot ON the day before. So after going through all the motions that morning, we discover them unnecessary.

“It’s amazing what happens when you just hit the on switch” fellow coworker says with a half laugh and a shrug of one shoulder.

Lightning, that phrase, I tell you what.  It’s amazing what happens when you just hit the on switch…

I’ll be the first to admit that I’ve been wandering around in a bit of a daze after returning from the World’s Best Vacation two weeks ago. It’s always difficult to transition from vacation-mindset back into workaday-mindset, but this time it’s been especially difficult.  World’s Best Vacation was the first true vacation I’d been on, with another adult, since before my eldest Munchkin was born. That’s over NINE years, people. Nine years since I’d had a chance to enjoy an entire week as an adult, the biggest worry on our plate being chocolate or no chocolate drizzled on our waffle at the top of Stowe Mountain, or what bar to swim up to that day in Jamaica. I think I’ve had a bit of a vacation hangover the past few weeks.

But life doesn’t always wait for you to recover from your hangover. Life, it rushes on, and carries you kicking and screaming downstream with it whether you’re ready to swim or not.

So maybe it’s time I flip the on switch back on, gang. Maybe it’s time to kick a little ass today and put the glory of vacation on a shelf to take out in the evenings and on weekends; to allow the glow of that one perfect week to get me through the tough spots of life instead of holding it up as what I wish every day could feel like.

Every day can’t be vacation. It wouldn’t be nearly as amazing if it were…

 ^Imporant to not. I'm TERRIBLE at life-sized chess^

Not Enough

I fell down the stairs yesterday.

Well technically, it’s stair. I fell down the stair yesterday, as in the bottom one. But I feel so much more justified in having a bruise the size of Montana on my tailbone and a slight limp to my walk when I use the plural: stairs. So I do.

It was silly, really, and sad all at the same time. I was coughing to beat the band at around 3am-ish, so I gather myself up out of bed and proceed to head for the kitchen for a spoonful of honey to calm the cough. And really, it’s no wonder that I took a spill thanks to the eternal pile of crap at the bottom landing of my stairs. I can’t be the only person that has this, right? The pile of single socks and toys and books and shirts and the stray Lego that end up downstairs and need to go upstairs, but just sort of end up on the orphan pile on the bottom step? Like anyone’s going to carry this stuff up if I don’t? And yet day after day I gaze at that pile, picking the desultory single piece to carry up, muttering on about how I’m the only one who does any work around here like a nutter. Do I really think my five-year-old will have an attack of conscious and decide she needs to contribute to the greater good of a clean household? No. but wouldn’t that be grand?

Anywho…there I am, shuffling down the stairs in the middle of the night. One minute my feet are under me and the next they are up over my head and I’m laying on the floor and the sound of my crash reverberates in my head like the gong of a bell. And I lay there for a minute, sure that I’ve woken the entire household up…sure that any moment someone will come rushing down to see what the commotion was. And so I bravely bite back the tears and make myself presentable for a minute…two…until I realize that no one’s coming.

You know that feeling that you get sometimes, as a single person, lying in bed, sure that you’re going to be single forever…that somewhere along the line you’ve fucked up to such a magnitude that the best it’s ever going to get is behind you and it’s just all downhill from here on out? That feeling is infinitely stronger and more panic-provoking as you lay on the cold linoleum at the bottom of the stairs, tears leaking uncontrollably from the corners of your eyes and into your ears and the hair snagged at your temples.

I think that feeling is my greatest fear.

And, perhaps, my most unfounded fear, but there it is nonetheless.

I am not good enough.

And there’s not a damn thing I can do about it, so I might as well embrace it.

I may not ever be good enough… so I’ll make my peace with it. I’ll continue to pull myself up off the linoleum floor and wash my own face with a warm washcloth. I’ll pour my own spoonful of honey and brush my own knees off when I fall. There is no white knight waiting in the wings. There is no cavalry coming at 5:01 every evening to hold my hand when I’ve had a bad day and turn the coffee pot on in advance. As a single parent you have to be your own fucking cavalry. You have to save yourself again and again, every day, until it’s second nature. Until you’ve forgotten what it’s like to depend on another person. Until the thought of putting yourself in someone else’s hands makes you uncomfortable and a little sweaty in tight places to even consider it. And, when you accidentally glimpse that quiet sheen of desperation wrapped around a core of steel in the eyes of another person where you work, or at the grocery store, or shining like a beacon out of the corner of a kid’s birthday party to which you’re valiantly making an effort to be social at? You recognize it as kin. You nod silently up once, letting your chin take the lead. Your lips form that half smile of empathy and wry half pity, knowing they too, think themselves not enough.

There are more of us out there than you’d think. If nothing else, I can take courage in that. I am not the only one who feels Not Enough. I am not the only one saving myself again and again, every day.




This is me on vacation. It has nothing to do with the above post. In fact, I include it here by way of saving this post from being a total whine-o-rama. Also, I think we all need a few more palm trees in our lives. You're welcome.



 



Our Very First Concert

The Munchkins have been diligently practicing beginner violin for a few months now.

and we've progressed from the squeaks and squeals of those early days to some confident bow work. We're not Vivavldi by any means at la casa, but all three Munchkins can play a tune or two error-free. They can tighten and rosen their own bows, they can properly hold, carry, walk with, store and extract their own instruments. And, knock on wood, I have yet to bribe anyone into practicing on a semi-daily basis. Usually just a gentle reminder that it's time to practice is all it takes to have them sprinting for their violins.

That being said, when you dress them in the traditional black and white concert get up, and then hand them off to a bevy of instructors while you go battle it out for decent seats at their first real concert? Your stomach will be doing somersaults. Guaranteed.

It's such a difficult thing, to let your kids stand up in front of others, the possibility of failure hovering just at the fringes of your consciousness. It's hard to let go. To trust that all those hours of practicing has paid off; that they won't stumble on the way to the stage, forget their music, or suffer a massive bout of stage fright at the last minute.

 

I wonder, at times, if I'm the only parent that suffers these worst-case-scenario nightmares on a daily basis?

How do you know they're ready?

I think that's the question I wrestle with so often these days.

There are times when I forget that The Munchkins are so relatively young. At eight, seven and five they seem so mature when they're not picking their nose or making poop jokes. I heap responsibilities on them that I'm not sure I had at their age because our small, four-person household would not function without them pitching in as equal parts instead of as just dependents. They are as equally responsible for cleaning and dusting and laundry folding and dish cleanup as I am on a weekly basis. And I ask it of them time and time again because it is necessary, hoping each week that it is not going to be the straw that breaks the camel's back, almost fearing each time that I'm dooming them to failure by expecting too much of them...

But on Sunday, The Munchkins, solid and steady as ever, pulled off a flawless performance for hundreds of parents, families, friends, and guests.

I am raising virtuosos...

One terrifying moment at a time.

Solving Puzzzles

The Monkey was home sick the other day.

The bulk of our day was spend spoon-feeding Tylenol and curling up on the couch trying to sleep it all off. They’re so sad and pathetic when they’re burning up with fever, you know? At one point; however, the girl thought she might be feeling better and requested we do a puzzle.

And a good 10 or 15 minutes into putting together a slew of Disney Princesses and Kitty Cats and such, The Monkey half turns to me and says:

“it’s a lot like God, isn’t it?”

“What is sweets? Puzzles you mean?”

“Yep” she replies stoically.

“ Because they’re difficult to put together?”

“No mom,” she replies with a heavy and somewhat disgusted sigh and small shake of her head. “Because there are so many different pieces. I mean. I have one piece and you have one piece and maybe there could be, like, Angel from my class at school that could be helping or something and she could have a piece. You know?”

I just wait…hoping she’ll elaborate if I nod and smile a little

“Because we don’t get to see the picture until it’s all done, but we all have different pieces. And all our pieces look different, but they’re all to the same puzzle.”

Mind. Blown.

My five-year-old just schooled me on religion.

I don’t know why it’s always such a revelation when children say intelligent things. At this point in their development I should be innured to the shock of The Munchkins saying something so completely sensible. Kids just have a different way of looking at the world I suppose. They relate everything back to their level, back to what they know. And I think that, as adults, we try and ‘smarten up’ our statements on life. After attending 12+ years of school and reading thousands of books, I’ve somehow trained myself to think that anything of a philosophical nature that comes out of my mouth better be backed by some research and include some name dropping and citation of knowledgeable sources. And, inevitably, I fall flat on my face, because in this approach, I just make the abstract more abstract. Whereas kids, at least in my experience, make the most sense because they make the abstract more concrete. Kids play with puzzles. God is a puzzle. Got it. Locked down. Moving on. No crisis of faith here, people. She gets it.

And who am I to say she’s wrong? I dig it. God is a puzzle. Makes as much sense as anything I learned in the past 30 years. I need to remember to listen more and assume less… I learn more this way. Especially from my children.

apologies

i know...i know...i have neglected this blog terribly lately. but i have a good handful of big projects in the works that i will be able to share soon. and also...the holidays...they approach. and  all their diy craftiness and homemade gifts comes with it.
a thousand apologies. truly. life just got in the way there for a bit.