Boogers on the Wall

OK. Let’s be honest. Signing your kindergartner and second grader up to do a school fundraiser is pretty much signing yourself up to do a school fundraiser. I have some newfound respect for those parents who opt out and tell their kids they aren’t selling stuff – especially after our most recent candy-bar selling spree. Don’t get me wrong, it wasn’t horrible, it was just a lot of work. But boy I’m glad we did it.

The PTA just wrapped up its annual fundraiser. And my boys were selling maniacs.

I guess they take after their grandpa Cutler who, rumor has it, used to sell admission tickets for his friends to sit and watch his sister put in her contact lenses.

Anyway, the boys were hooked from the beginning. They were pumped up about selling their product – $1 chocolate bars.

It’s partly my fault. I’ve been involved with this from the beginning too. I am on my school’s PTA board and cast my vote as to what we would sell and what the prizes would be.

I really do love these chocolate bars. They are cheap, delicious and this year they came with a free-admission coupon to Fat Cats for Bumper Cars or Glow Golf. That coupon in itself made the bars more than worth it.

Oh, and we decided to let the students do the fundraiser as families if they wanted. That meant my boys could work as a team and earn prizes as a team.

Otherwise we probably wouldn’t have done it. I can’t imagine having to decide which one of my boys would get the reward from us selling. I’m glad they let us team up.

Because, what kid doesn’t get stoked about prizes? If students sold one box they got to go to an ice cream party. If they sold two or more boxes they got their name entered into a drawing for cash envelopes. If they sold 4, they got to ride in a “party bus” to get a free lunch!

Awesome.

Each box had 60 candy bars neatly packaged inside. And once you took a box home you were responsible to sell – or buy yourself – all 60 bars. You couldn’t return any partially sold boxes.

Anyone who knows me knows I stress over money. I hoard it. I don’t like to splurge. And I also don’t like sweets. I still have some of my Christmas stocking candy left over.

So the prospect of being stuck with $60 worth of chocolate bars really gave me anxiety. But I signed us up anyway.

We sold our first box easily. We called grandmas, great grandmas, aunts and uncles. It felt like a breeze.

Then we made a long list of people we knew who we thought would buy some. We ran around the neighborhood with the big box of chocolates checking names off our list.

I also posted a picture of the candy on Facebook. That really helped us sell our second and third boxes.

But after 180 I was done. Yes I said 180. That’s $180 worth of product.

I’d driven my boys around for three nights knocking on doors of people we knew.

Surely I’d burned through several chocolate bars’ worth of gas at that point. I was ready to be done – I didn’t want to see another chocolate bar again. (Unless it was caramel flavored, those are my favorite.)

But I caved. My oldest begged me to sell one more box. He had a couple of friends who were on their fourth box. Why couldn’t he sell another?

That’s when my mom guilt took over and I brought home 60 more bars.

I knew the reward. If we sold this box, my two oldest boys would get to take a spin in the “party bus” to get lunch.

That better be the best lunch of their lives.

So we made another list. More people we knew. More people who didn’t have their own kids selling candy bars. More Facebook friends who said they’d buy some. And we hit the pavement again.

It was stressful, it was crazy and I wondered if we’d have to pay our mortgage out in chocolate bars. But we did it.

We sold 240 candy bars. Something I NEVER thought we could do. Granted we bought several ourselves, but I figure we can spend some family bonding time at the bumper car arena. There’s nothing more fun than slamming a car into the ones you love.

But frankly I’m glad I let them sell that last box. I didn’t hold them back. I didn’t get in the way of their passion. And when we were almost done selling it my seven-year-old said, “It feels really good accomplishing something.”

It really does. This fundraiser was about more than milk chocolate and almond bars. It was about making a plan, setting some goals and getting to work. It was about believing in yourself when your mom doubted you. I’m proud of my kids. They rocked it.

In the end it was a win-win. And the victory was especially sweet.

Author’s Note: My children hate doing crafts. However I love doing them. If I ever write about a new craft we did together, just know that I had a great time but my boys had a less than great time. Like when we did these valentines. Rest assured they were weeping and wailing at the kitchen table as I asked them to write a few sentences. How dare I ask them to write anything other than their nightly homework! Don’t get me wrong, they love their grandparents, they just hate putting forth any extra effort – especially when it’s not their idea.

I don’t love Valentine’s Day. I think it’s a dumb holiday that leaves people out. And who needs just one day to show their friends and family that they love them? We all should do that every day.

That said, I love to show people that I love them and I really love to tell them that I love them.

So this year I made my boys write love notes for their grandparents for Valentine’s Day. And can I say that I was laughing so hard at what they wrote I just had to share. I’m including a free printable at the bottom of this post for you to make your own grandparent love notes. If you do, let me know! I’d love to hear what your kids said about their grandparents.

Here’s what we did:

I stumbled across the cutest tutorial for Valentine’s Day mailboxes. You can see that here. I made 28 little advent mailboxes using my Silhouette machine (by the end I was wondering what in the world I was thinking). But they turned out really cute. I put vinyl numbers 1-14 on the side of each mailbox.

Then I had my boys write a note to their grandparents to put in a mailbox for each day. That way they have one love note to read each day from Feb. 1 to 14.

I gave my boys little printed slips of paper with following Valentine’s prompt phrases:

– I love Grandma/Grandpa because ___________________

– I love when Grandma/Grandma _____________________

– I want to give Grandma/Grandpa ____________________

– I love when Grandma/Grandpa ______________________

– Grandma has beautiful ________________________________

– Grandpa has beautiful _________________________________

– Grandma/Grandpa’s kisses are like __________________

– I love Grandma/Grandpa’s ____________________________

– Grandma/Grandpa has my favorite ___________________

It was hilarious to see what they filled in for their blanks. Some of my favorites were:

“Grandma has my favorite tootsie rolls”

“I love when Grandpa plays the Wii with me”

“I want to give grandma $1,000,0”

“Grandma has beautiful hair”

“I love Grandpa’s ribs”

“I love Grandma because she likes the Red Sox”

They were so funny! I cut the notes out, rolled them into tiny scrolls and then put one in each mailbox.

Like I said, my boys didn’t write these notes without complaining. They had a great time coming up with what they wanted to write they just didn’t want to write it. But in the end they did an awesome job. And I hope their grandparents get as big a kick out of the notes as I did.

Especially the note that says, “Grandpa’s kisses are like getting swallowed by a frog.” Seriously?! Who comes up with these things.

Here’s a LINK to where you can download your own grandparent love note prompts to print out, or click on the photos below:

Now I know not all of you have a Silhouette (you are welcome to come borrow mine anytime) but I think these notes turned out to be so fun that you could easily do them without putting them into a paper-cut mailbox. Just roll them up and stick a number on the outside. Or fold them into cute little envelope squares, place them in a wicker basket and hand them to their grandparents to read all in one day.

Here’s another quick and super easy $1 Valentine’s Day craft for friends or family. I saw a framed poster at a local craft store with the ABCs typed out. The I and U were a different color and the O was heart-shaped. When they lined up they made a diagonal “I ‘heart’ U.”

It was so cute I wanted to make my own. I searched Pinterest and found a couple examples to look at for spacing purposes. I typed up my own ABCs, threw a chevron background behind and viola! I had my own printable artwork.

I bought a few $1 frames at the dollar store and put my printed pages inside. They made instant framed Valentine’s notes. So fun! We gave them to my grandparents.

If you want to download and make your own click HERE or click on this photo:

Now, I better stop crafting before I break or ruin something.

I have always loved spanking my kids. Not because I am disciplining them. Not because I am angry. Not because they are in trouble. But because I love teasing them by gently swatting their cute little bottoms.

Don’t get me wrong. There have been times when my boys have been completely out of control and I have had to swat them hard. Those times I haven’t loved.

But more often than not I have spanked them for fun. It’s been a little joke in our family. I do it to their dad too.

It has always been fun and games for me to tap their tush as a joke – until my oldest started spanking other adults. Now it’s got to stop.

The game is over. I can no longer teasingly swat my boys’ bottoms. Because we don’t know boundaries. I can’t have them growing up thinking that it’s a salutation.

I’ve got to teach him that it’s not normal.

Right now I don’t know what’s worse, the fact that he’ll swat the backside of mere acquaintances or that he’ll smash his baby brother’s diaper-cushioned bottom. All. The. Time.

I can’t get him to stop. I’ve begged, I’ve pleaded.

I’ve created a monster.

One day after he wouldn’t stop spanking his aunt and uncle I lost it. I shouted at him and spanked him hard.

Oh the irony.

I was trying to spank the spanking out of him.

That’s not going to work. I need a new solution. I can’t fight fire with fire.

What do you do to stop a bad habit? How do you get your kids to change their mindset?

I don’t want to brainwash him, and I admit that this is all my fault, but I need some ideas on how to get him to leave other tushes alone.

Maybe if I completely stop tapping their bums he’ll follow suit.  Word of the wise – don’t spank your kids for fun. Reserve that action for the rare, few times that you can’t get to them any other way. In my opinion it should be a last-resort disciplinary measure.

Otherwise you’ll end up with a lot of awkward situations. Like when your son swats the bishop’s bum during church.

I’m so mad I taught him this I could swat my own backside.

What was more fun than smearing frosting onto graham crackers, topping them with candy and then trying to prop them up onto a piece of cardboard until they somewhat resembled gingerbread houses?

Smashing them all to pieces.

We took a hammer to our gingerbread houses and it was AWESOME.

This is the first year we have made gingerbread houses together. Of course we cheated and used store-bought graham crackers and store-bought frosting, but it still felt like really hard work.

My two older boys and I made them on a Saturday afternoon before Christmas while my youngest was taking a nap. We ended up with candy and frosting everywhere but surprisingly I didn’t shout at all during the whole production – It was a major accomplishment.

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My oldest made an army bunker with an artillery storage area filled with Sixlet cannon balls. He broke toothpicks in half so he could arm his gummy bear infantry with weapons.

My 5-year-old made a tall, narrow fire station. It was guarded by gummy-bear spies on the roof and a marching army of them by the front door.

My house nearly ended up as a Weasley house. It tipped and leaned so many times I nearly gave up. It was by far the worst-made house of the three. I finally got it to stay upright and threatened everyone in the home not to breathe on it.

We set the houses on our dinner table and kept them up well after Christmas.

Honestly I didn’t know how we were going to be able to part with them. My boys are hoarders. They hate to throw things away. For a long time we had to take pictures of random household objects before tossing them so that my oldest could “remember” them (you can read about that here.)

So I was dreading the day I’d have to toss our gingerbread village. I thought about having a house-eating party, but my boys didn’t really even like the candy we used in the first place – especially the gumdrops. I was sure they wouldn’t eat it stale and dry.

So I had the brilliant idea to kick, throw, and whack the houses away.

We set out a blue tarp on our driveway and took turns with the hammer. Candy, graham crackers and frosting flew into the sky as we giggled and trashed all of our hard work.

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But I didn’t hear one complaint. No requests to save the houses and no whines about how we were ruining them.

We hit them so hard we punched holes into our tarp.

Smashing them was by far much more fun than taking pictures and then tossing the houses into the trash.

We’ve got to do it again next year.

My boys are really into aliens, ghosts and zombies, but that doesn’t mean they want to meet any.

I don’t know why they like creepy crawly things – probably because they are boys.

They are really interested in ghosts. We took them to a family-friendly Ghostbuster haunted house last fall. They were thrilled yet anxious as we walked through the “ghost-filled” forest.

At home they love setting up a recorder and trying to capture ghost sounds. Sometimes they’ll put on their homemade Ghostbuster costumes and carry around flashlights as they  “hunt” for ghosts.

But when they are faced with the fact that ghosts may be real they aren’t so thrilled.

We went to the Hill Air Force Base Museum over Christmas break. We walked around the planes and displays like normal. Toward the end of the trip my boys started talking about how they thought the place was haunted.

My 5-year-old even spooked himself into believing he saw a ghost in one of the old helicopters. They walked cautiously through the place after that.

I think they thought it was a game. They were trying to scare each other into thinking the place was haunted.

It was all fun and games until we went to leave.

When we were walking out the door we ran into an elderly man who was volunteering that day at the museum. He asked how our trip was.

That’s when my boys told them they thought the place was haunted. I looked wide-eyed at the volunteer and said something like, “Tell them it isn’t really haunted.”

That’s when he hushed his voice and shook his head at me while he said, “I can’t tell them that because it wouldn’t be true.”

Say what?

I glared at him and said, “But surely there aren’t any mean ghosts here, right?”

He agreed with me and said something like, “Right. The spirits here are all from those who lost their lives defending our nation. They are good spirits.”

You should have seen my boys’ faces. I thought their eyes were going to pop out of their heads. They were both ecstatic and terrified. The museum really had ghosts?

I could have punched that old man.

Isn’t there some kind of adult code? A wink, wink don’t-tell-my-kids-there-really-are-ghosts-in-here conduct to live by? I don’t care if a ghost just flew behind my head. Don’t tell my kids that! Especially if you ever want us to come back!

This old gentleman either never had children or was so far removed from his parenting that he forgot what it was like to live with two boys who really thought there were ghosts.

He forgot about the nightmares kids can get and how when they get nightmares, they crawl into their parents’ bed. He forgot about how scared children won’t go into the basement. He forgot how easy it is for children to hear ghost “noises” throughout the house

Well he better remember fast, or else he’ll scare every kid away. If he keeps it up, no kids will dare visit the museum anymore.

I still don’t know how I feel about ghosts and spirits and haunted sites, but I know that I don’t like to feel scared. And I don’t like my children to feel scared. So I try to stay away from spooky things.

So who knows when we’ll make it back to the museum. And if we do ever go back we’ll probably have to take video cameras, audio recorders, flashlights and our homemade Ghostbuster proton packs.

There you go. You have been warned. If you’re planning a trip to the Hill Air Force Base Museum beware of ghosts.

 Who knew 5 minutes into Christmas morning that I’d try to slice the tip of my thumb off with one of our new toys.

Yep. We had only just begun checking out what Santa Claus brought us when I started bleeding all over our goods.

And my boys weren’t sympathetic – they were excited.

Santa Claus brought both of my oldest boys microscopes. They came in a big kit that has things like slides, a brine shrimp hatchery and unbeknownst to me, a circular slide-sizing slicer.

I was helping my 5-year-old get his kit out when I slid my thumb around the side of that slicer and nicked the tip. Yikes! It hurt. It was cut deep.

I ran upstairs and fumbled one-handedly for a Band-aid while blood dripped from my left hand. I couldn’t open the packaging so I ran back downstairs and made my husband bandage me up.

That lasted about 10 minutes. Then blood started dripping though my Band-aid. I got red all over a set of batteries I was trying shove into a new toddler music toy.

After that I scrambled to find some gauze and medical tape. Then I spent the day with a giant left-hand thumb.

Later that night my mother-in-law and I tried to liquid glue the wound shut. But the flapping skin didn’t take to the glue for very long. By the next morning I reopened the cut while trying to make my bed.

Lame for me. Thrilling for my children.

They had something new to study with their microscopes. My blood!

I’m sure they didn’t dare ask me for a sample on Christmas. It was all too raw at that point. But now that I’d had a day with my wound, they were more than happy to round up their slides and stick them under my finger. I felt like a newborn getting its PKU test sample as we squeezed my finger for more blood.

I let them each walk away with a slide filled with my “human blood.” We covered the slide, labeled it and stuck it under the microscopes.

We spent a long time looking at it. And to be honest, it was COOL!

We were able to see tiny white cell-type objects moving through little river channels of my blood. They flecked and danced about while each of my boys shouted things like, “This is awesome, mom,” and “I’m sorry you got cut but thanks for the blood!”

It was a major sacrifice – all for the sake of science. At least it was me who got cut and not one of them.

We zoomed in and focused our microscopes several times and one of my boys said he was able to see my “DNA.” Man they are smart and they love science.

It took a long time for the skin on my thumb to heal. I felt like I was “all thumbs” for a while. Yet I’m kind of glad I could donate to the cause.

But you better believe I’m not volunteering to donate any more of myself for the sake of new microscope experiments – at least not unless it’s another accident.

365 days is a long time for someone like me to hold it all together. That’s more than 8,700 hours to keep my house clean, my laundry folded, my family fed, my bills paid and my hair combed. And when it comes to not yelling at my kids it seems like an eternity

One year can seem like forever.

I’ve decided to limit my resolutions for 2014 to one: I resolve to take my life one day at a time.

I’m not going to stress myself into thinking I’ve got to be awesome each day of the next 12 months.

This year I’m going to try to take it all in stride and hopefully for most of 2014 I’ll be found with a smiling, non-yelling face.

I’m sure each day is going to be different.

I’m going to try to throw out my naturally rigid scheduling-something-every-minute personality and replace it for one that is more flexible; one that is better at improvising.

I’m going to try to follow my mood, my kids’ moods and my husband’s mood. That will dictate what gets done around here, not my calendar.

I’m sure there will be days when I kick it into high gear and scrub my house from top to bottom. But then there will be other days when my house looks like the aftermath of a hurricane and I don’t get out of my pajamas until 3 p.m.

There will be times when I have a lot of energy to chase after my boys outside, and other days when I just want to cuddle with them and read books on our couch.

I have 365 days in 2014. Every day doesn’t have to feature a clean house. Every day doesn’t need to include a warm three-course dinner.

I am sure I won’t shower every day and I know I won’t always make my bed.

Instead of having a year filled with errand running, organization, and mopped kitchen floors, I want a year filled with giggles, ghost stories and adventures.

I want a year filled with memories.

Here’s to 2014.

Here’s to building blanket forts in our basement.

Here’s to singing “What Does the Fox Say?”

Here’s to walking to remember.

Here’s to star gazing and microscope inspecting.

Here’s to running more miles.

Here’s to Saturday morning cuddles and Sunday afternoon movie days.

Here’s to reading more books and learning more Italian.

Here’s to living.

Here’s to 2014.

Wrapping, tissue paper, cardboard boxes, batteries, tape, scissors, screwdrivers, goldfish crackers, Clementine peels, band-aids – you name it, it was on my living room floor Christmas morning.

I’m sure I have dear friends who can relate and possibly even some whose mess can rival that of the Clemens’s home.

That kind of mess is enough to drive this OCD keep-it-picked-up stay-at-home-mom CRAZY.

Luckily for me I had a dear friend drop off a cute Christmas decoration a few days ago that puts things into perspective. I’m going to share it with you and keep this blog post short and sweet. I’ve had way too many late-night holiday parties these days. I’m ready for bed.

My friend made our family a plaque that says:

“One of the most glorious messes in the world is the mess created in the living room on Christmas Day. Don’t clean it up too quickly.” – Andy Rooney

I’m going to sit back and take that to heart. We aren’t going to do any serious cleaning up anytime soon and I give all you other busy, tired parents permission to sit back and let your living room be a mess too.

I leave you with a picture of my living room couch whereon not a creature could stir – not even a mouse.

Merry Christmas!

Have you finished all of your shopping? Are you all ready for Christmas? Those are two questions you don’t ask a young mother who barely has time to get out of her pajamas in the morning, let alone buy and wrap all her presents by December 19.

It’s hard to think of everything, everyone and get it all together before Christmas. Especially when your kids keep morphing their Christmas lists and asking for new things from Santa.

Yet this year is different for me. I learned to say no – to myself.

Most years I’m modge-podging my way through Christmas Eve trying to get everything made and packaged by morning. This year I’m done. It’s about a week until Christmas and I’m done.

Not because I have done EVERYTHING I thought of doing this season, but because I have done the most IMPORTANT things I have thought of. And I’ve let go of the other things.

For example:

I thought about crocheting little Santa slippers for my mom and sisters. But when I opened the pattern file on my computer, I discovered that I couldn’t even make sense of the instructions and decided to wait until next year. Not. Worth. My. Time.

I thought about making my boys plaid Christmas suit jackets. Then I walked into H&M and saw Christmas green collared shirts for $4 each. Paired with some red suspenders from my sister’s wedding and they have instant Christmas church outfits. Good. Enough. For. Me.

I normally like to make a small Christmas craft for all of our neighbors. This year they got a bag of marshmallow snowman pooh and hot chocolate. My husband is so proud.

I usually stew over what to bring to holiday potluck parties. This year it was Sam’s Club pumpkin pies and sherbet Jell-o salad. Easy. Peasy.

My mind is always racing. Always thinking of what I can make or do next. But this year I’m not giving in. I’m not going to do all of the things I think I SHOULD do.

I’ve decided to sit back and enjoy this holiday season. My oldest is 7. Soon the magic will be gone for him and what will I have to show for it if I don’t put my projects away and believe right along with him? Nothing. Absolutely nothing.

I have a really hard time sitting still. But that’s what I’ve vowed to do this Christmas. I bought 90 percent of our presents online several weeks ago. I finished wrapping them on Monday.

I know a lot of people out there are still shopping and prepping for the holidays. I know how you feel. I’ve been there – pretty much every year. Hang in there. You’ll make it.

But might I suggest simplifying things next year? Maybe your mother-in-law would really enjoy want a gift card. Maybe your kids won’t even play with the silly stuffed animal you stay up late to sew. Maybe your husband doesn’t care if you cook him an apple pie on Christmas Eve.

For me this year the most important gift I have given myself (and by default those around me) has been time.

I’ve watched more shows on Netflix than I care to admit (I have a we-don’t-watch-television-at-our-house reputation to uphold.) I’ve read Christmas stories and thrown snowballs at my boys. I’ve built a couple of snowmen and sledded down the hill in our back yard.

I’ve been to see Santa, several times and we’ve sung Christmas carols around the piano. Instead of worrying and stressing myself through the month of December, I’ve actually laughed and played with my kids.

Those are things that I didn’t have the time or the energy to do in years past. But I’ve decided they are things that I have got to do before all the years are passed.