Mister Man Has a Message

Brand new giveaway for e.l.f. cosmetics here.

And I have a chance to win tickets to The Emperor's New Clothes from the Chicago Shakespeare Theatre here for my Chicago friends.

***

Yesterday, Mister Man was playing very nicely in the foyer for a period of time. I assumed he was sketching his dinosaurs or reading, which is what he usually is doing. When he came into the kitchen where I was preparing dinner, he asked me to come see what he'd done.

Of course, I followed.

He led me to the front door and proudly showed of his creation:

Nope, not the weather wheel. That was Little Miss's (although if you recall, Mister Man made a weather wheel in preschool a few years ago, too). With his love of art and his interest in spelling, Mister Man wanted to be sure we had appropriate decorations in our house for the Fourth of July and created this completely unprompted.

He's a pretty cool kid, I think. I'm impressed that he even got almost all the stripes right - just short one - and I don't think he had a model when he made it.

Happy Fourth of July, from us to you!

I'm Not The Only One With Stick-to-it-iveness

Brand new giveaway for e.l.f. cosmetics here.

And I have a chance to win tickets to The Emperor's New Clothes from the Chicago Shakespeare Theatre here for my Chicago friends.

***

I wrote the other day about how I'm trying to ensure the wee ones learn the value of persistence through my example, especially for Mister Man. He tends to be a perfectionist, and frequently doesn't want to try things unless he's pretty confident he'll succeed.

It's something we've been working on for quite awhile, and every once in awhile, we can see that it's really making a difference.

For example, Mister Man recently had a birthday party at our gym for one of his friends. The party started out in the pool area and later moved inside. The pool wasn't open only to the party but was filled with all sorts of parents and children - mostly children.

I was the one of only a few parents who had brought a suit and was prepared to get in the water with my child. Noting that the other parents were letting the children play together, I set a few ground rules for Mister Man (he had to stay where I could see him and he had to keep listening for me in case I had directions for him) then stood on the pool deck, watching.

After awhile, the pool had its safety break, and one of the lifeguards gathered up our group, announcing it was time for a swim test. The parents all looked at each other blankly - me included. We shrugged and went to the indoor pool where we learned that our children had to swim 25m solo without touching the bottom or they would have to have an adult within arm's reach in the pool.

Huh. This was new, but I'm all for it after having seen some of the antics pulled by kids and the near misses I've seen over the past few years belonging to that gym.

A few of the parents ducked out immediately saying their kids can't swim independently (ummm really? Your kids can't swim independently and you let them in a pool without you and with you only half supervising, if that?) and others confident their children could swim 25 feet.

I figured it was worth a try for Mister Man, since he'd been taking swim lessons for a couple years at that facility and was doing pretty well. Since he could swim any way he wanted, it didn't matter that he doesn't yet have the full coordination and strength to do a true crawl. I was going to let him, just to see what happened.

When the parents actually saw the pool and realized it was a full lap of 25 meters and not feet, several more backed out. Those remaining (along with other kid members of the gym) got in line to do the swim test.

I told Mister Man that he was able to swim however he wanted - crawl, backstroke, breast stroke or whatever, just that his feet couldn't touch the bottom.

As his turn came, he bravely jumped into the pool and came up sputtering and clearing his eyes (his usual routine), then he began doing his version of the breast stroke. I walked along the edge with him coaxing him along and reassuring him that he was doing great.

He took a couple breaks to tread water and catch his breath, but that's allowed (and apparently, I've been told most kids have a hard time getting the concept of treading water, but ... for whatever reason, he's great at it). He zig-zagged back and forth, crashing into the lane marker and the edge of the pool, but he didn't let it stop him.

As he got within ten feet of the end, I could see that he was getting pretty tired, but both the swim coach and I were cheering him on at that point - the other kids had all pretty much given up prior to that point.

He took another deep breath and continued pushing into the water until he gasped and made it to the wall at the end of the lane. Wow. Mister Man swam way more than 25 meters with all his back and forth, but officially - he succeeded.

In fact, he was the only kid in his class at the party who did it. He was awarded a bright yellow armband in recognition of his accomplishment, and you can't imagine the grin he had on his face!

He refused to take it off after the party, and he immediately called Daddy and Grandma and Grandpa to tell them all about what he did. They were pretty proud, too. Honestly, I wasn't sure if he could do it or not when he started, but I'm awfully glad I had him try and didn't put any negative thoughts into his head.

Next up? He's my future black belt!

Take *That* Evil Fruit Flies

Brand new giveaway for e.l.f. cosmetics here.

And I have a chance to win tickets to The Emperor's New Clothes from the Chicago Shakespeare Theatre here for my Chicago friends.

***

It's that time of year again (read: summer), and I made a tactical error. When I went to St. Louis this past week and left my husband behind with the wee ones for two plus days before they joined me, I didn't make my usual "I'm traveling" kitchen adjustments.

I assumed that my husband would feed the wee ones fruit at all or most meals just like I do. Therefore, I didn't put the uncut pineapple, the apples or the oranges into the fridge as I normally would.

When we walked into the house on Sunday evening, we were greeted by our housesitters, the fruit flies.

Ick. I hate them. Really, really hate them. And yet every year, at one point or another, we have a fruit fly invasion. It generally happens in August when it's super hot and humid and they appear within a day of fruit being placed on the counter.

The good news? With that experience comes expertise in getting rid of them. Humanely (realtively), cheaply, and - most importantly - effectively.

Witness:

Yep, those little black specks are the sucker fruit flies that have gotten trapped by my husband's nifty little device. They can (and do!) get in, but they can't escape. Eventually they get tired and fall into the liquid below, drowning. Or my husband gets nice and lets them out far far from our house.

Two days after putting the trap out, we're nearly fruit fly-less.

So how can you too make such a trap and save yourself?

Simply take a piece of paper and roll it into a cone with a small hole in the bottom. Tape it into that shape. Place the cone into a glass or jar of some sort that you have placed a small amount of vinegar (not my expensive balsamic vinegar as my husband originally tried!). Then just wait.

It's amazing how quickly those nasty little buggers will fly down to find that sweet (to them) vinegar - and yes, the apple cider stuff seems to work the best. Once they get through the hole, they can't figure it out. When they crawl towards the tip of the cone, they can't make the u-turn and climb out, and none of them are smart enough to hover below and then simply fly through the hole again.

You're welcome.

Now go enjoy your fruit in peace.

If At First You Don't Succeed....

Hey Chicago peeps - do you and your kids like theater? A chance to win tickets to The Emperor's New Clothes from the Chicago Shakespeare Theatre here.

***

One of the things that I have done my best to instill in the wee ones - especially Mister Man who is a perfectionist and doesn't want to even try the first time if he doesn't think he'll succeed - is that true success only comes with practice. You have to work at it, and it isn't always easy.

When you try and then fail, that doesn't mean you give up. Instead you try again, change tactics, get help, or just plain old practice until you get it right.

More important than telling them this though is having them see it in practice. And I'm giving them some good practice right about now.

I've been working on doing the C25K for ohhhh about two years and three months now. No joke. I got really close in July two years ago, but life got in the way and I got away from it, just hit or miss running.

I recently got serious about doing it again - and I'm signed up for my first 5K while at BlogHer (gulp) in August (gulp - heat!). It has been going fairly smoothly. While the weeks' runs haven't been super easy, I've been able to do them.

Until last Wednesday.

Last Wednesday was my twenty-five minute run. I'd done the prep work up through Week Six Day Two. On that Day 3, however, it all fell apart. A couple minutes in, my ponytail was starting to loosen, and I can't run with my hair flopping all over (my lack of sweating is a big part of that). I paused to redo my ponytail, as I haven't yet mastered the art of running on a treadmill and fixing my hair, or at least not without falling off the treadmill.

I began running again, but shortly after the five minute mark, my shoe came untied. And running with an untied shoe? Well, you just can't do that. And thus my run was broken. Before I finished my twenty-five minutes, I'd stopped for a total of four times. I was disappointed, as it was my first failure at the C25K.

I had a great set of excuses: I hadn't slept enough lately, I didn't eat a protein breakfast that morning, I couldn't get my calf to stretch, the gym was too hot that day, I had forgotten my water bottle in my car, I was focused on doing too much that day before I headed to St. Louis, etc etc. But all that really meant is that I didn't do what I was supposed to.

After my run, I headed down to the Build-A-Bear event (a post on that coming shortly) and although I brought my workout stuff, I never found the time to run before we left my in-laws' house on Sunday.

Monday I was back to it, however. I figured that doing the 25 minute run after having been off for several days wasn't going to happen, so I decided to repeat Week 6 Day 2 - my two ten minute runs. I did my first ten minute run, although it wasn't easy. Five minutes into my second ten minute run, I was gassed. I had to stop and walk for a bit. Unlike previous times, however, where I'd stopped to walk but then managed to finish my run after a period of relative rest, my legs weren't cooperating. Major fail.

I focused on getting sleep and making sure I had a good breakfast so that today's run would go better. Last night, I had softball, but that shouldn't impede me too badly. Oh, except for when I was messing around before an inning and took a ball off my shin just above my ankle.

Ow. It got the muscle I use every time I flex my foot, so even walking was somewhat painful. I dreaded my run today - another attempt at that Week 6 Day 2 - and now I had perfect excuse. The bruise on my leg would keep me from being able to do it.

Uhhhh note to self: do not turn to talk to someone while manning first base and waiting for the shortstop to throw you the ball!

Last night, I couldn't fall asleep. I woke up early this morning and couldn't fall back asleep and was exhausted. And yet I made myself go out and run - thinking not only of Melisa dutifully doing her runs but also Mister Man and what I preach to him.

The first five minutes of my run seemed to last forever - and not only because the tv in front of me seemed to be on perpetual commercial mode. I got through that and kept going and finished that first ten minute run. Once I got to the one mile mark, it didn't feel so bad - something I've noticed about running in the past. When the music cued me to start up on my second run, I did it.

It was really hard. I kept talking myself through various points:

Just run until you hear that Day One is going to stop their eight minute run - you will have done three minutes at least.

You can run three more minutes while Day One is walking; three minutes is nothing in the grand scheme of thing.

Hey you've only got four minutes to go; you've done more than three quarters of your running.

Day Two is the first one to finish running for the day, and that will feel good.

And then... my iPod froze (again). I had no music and nothing telling me when to stop and start. Fortunately, knowing this happens with my iPod when I run for more than eight minutes at a time, I had checked the treadmill to see when I had started that second ten minute run. I can't watch the timer though, or it kills my motivation. Instead, I focused on the tv.

It's ok, just get through this set of commercials until the next tv show comes on.

Ok, let's see if you can do it to the first break. You know you'll be done before the first break on the show.

Ok, maybe not the first break, but at least until the first contestant starts playing his individual game (this is the part where I admit to watching the tv that has The Price Is Right on it).

Finding those little milestones in my big goal got me through it, and I did run my full second ten minutes. Week 6 Day 2 is now complete. I'm ready for my twenty-five minute run on Friday.

Well, except that I'm donating blood tomorrow afternoon. I wonder how donating blood will affect it... nah, I can't use that excuse!

Where Did They Go Again?

Hey Chicago peeps - do you and your kids like theater? A chance to win tickets to The Emperor's New Clothes from the Chicago Shakespeare Theatre here.

***

So I've written about how I'm a sort of organized person. I like lists, I like crossing things off lists. I even created a spreadsheet for myself for BlogHer (ummm yeah, I'm seriously that much of a geek).

My motto in life is "everything in its place and a place for everything." Just typing that makes me happy. There have been multiple times where I "lost" my phone only to find it in the pocket in my purse where it belongs. I'm simply so used to putting it there that I do it unconsciously and don't even realize I'm doing it.

You know what's coming next, right?

Ha, I didn't lose my phone - you're wrong.

Instead I lost my keys. Again.

On Saturday, I ran errands all day. When I arrived home, I walked straight into the kitchen, knowing I needed to make a cake for Sunday prior to running back out again for a girls' night out.

I spend my entire time in the kitchen baking, then I ran back out to my car - straight from the kitchen, and I mean I didn't even stop to go to the bathroom - to head out to girls' night out.

I reached into my purse to start up my car and my keys weren't in the nice little pocket in my purse where they belong. I have two great pockets on one side of my purse that perfectly fit my keys and my phone, and they are always there.

*sigh*

I began digging through my purse, but I didn't see them. My next step was to begin taking everything out of my purse (and realizing some of the items needed to be disposed of in general - expired coupons being one). Nope. When the purse was empty, still no keys.

I ran inside and checked the counter. I checked the island. I checked the stove. Hmm. I checked the family room - even knowing I hadn't been in that room. I checked on top of the microwave and on the hutch.

I went back out to my car and searched everywhere. Not under a seat, not slipped down the side anywhere, and not on the garage floor. Eventually, I gave up and grabbed the spare set of keys so I wouldn't be any later.

Post event, I searched the entire house to no avail. My husband looked in the same places I had already looked, and no - he didn't find them either.

Sunday, I tried again. Monday, I looked again. Tuesday, I looked again.

Then I needed to pull out my Bluetooth tonight. I unzippered the pocket in my purse where it belongs. Since it's small, it lives in a different pocket from my phone or keys, and nothing else lives in that pocket.

Ta-da! Car keys. Huh.

Thinking back (which isn't exactly the easiest thing for me to do), I apparently had taken my Bluetooth out when I had arrived home with my keys in the same hand, and they arrived into that pocket together. Oops.

On the plus side, I am no longer panicking about losing the only set of keys to my car. And apparently I need to use my Bluetooth more often. Somehow, I have a feeling this won't be the last time I do this.

Tasty Tuesday - S'mores Pizza!

Hey Chicago peeps - do you and your kids like theater? A chance to win tickets to The Emperor's New Clothes from the Chicago Shakespeare Theatre here.

***

I have to apologize in advance to you all. I'm sorry. I'm really and truly sorry.

My family went to Peel Wood Fired Pizza in St. Louis, and it was good. The whole experience was great (ok, except for the wait with small children - but that only proves how popular it is, and so not their fault). We had some really yummy pizza, and my family requested that I replicate it when we got home.

So this evening, I pulled this out of the cabinet.

Any guesses what I'm making?

S'Mores Pizza

Ingredients:
(note - this is my regular pizza dough and is enough for regular pizzas and then dessert pizza at the end. I make three small/medium pizzas for the four of us and then one ~8 inch pizza for the dessert one)

1 c water, warm but not too hot
1 T yeast
1 T oil
1/2 t sugar
1/2 t salt
3 c flour (this will vary each recipe, sometimes more and sometimes less)
1/2 c Nutella
2 graham crackers, broken into large pieces
1 T honey (leave it in the bottle)
1 c marshmallows

Directions:
Place the water into your stand mixer bowl (or if you're not lucky, into a regular bowl, but then be prepared to do lots of kneading). Add the yeast and oil. Add 1 1/2 c of the flour, and mix well. Add the salt and stir again. Start adding flour by the 1/2 cup. Mix well with each addition, kneading (or using the dough hook on the stand mixer) to thoroughly combine before adding more.

Once the flour is all incorporated and it's kneaded well such that it feels smooth to the touch (not tacky and not dry - adjust water and flour as needed there), let it sit. You'll want to knead with the dough hook prior to that for 7-10 minutes or by hand for up to 20. Place a damp towel over the top of the bowl while it rises for an hour.

Gently separate out the dough you want to use. As I mentioned, I use the dough to make other pizzas for dinner, first, leaving a little over a fist-sized amount for this one.

Lightly flour your surface, and roll out your dough into a round, turning it as needed. Use a spatula to spread the Nutella into a thin layer on the dough.

Have children break the graham crackers into large chunks if you trust them - or do it yourself if you don't want them crushed into granules. Sprinkle half the graham crackers lightly over the crust, then drizzle it all with honey.

(Yes, these graham crackers were way too small and too much, but the wee ones had a blast helping me with this. The only problem they created is that the granules made it such that the marshmallows didn't stick into the Nutella too well!)

Place the pizza on your grill on a pizza stone (if it's hot and summer and you don't want to turn on the oven - otherwise, back this at 475 degrees). Add the marshmallows and remaining graham crackers, and gently press into the Nutella and honey.

Bake it for 7-10 minutes, until the marshmallows are golden brown and all melty. Remove from the oven and cut into pieces. You'll want to eat this immediately, as marshmallows just aren't good once they cool off and get hard.

No, we have no leftovers. Just be happy I have pics at all! Enjoy this and more with Tempt My Tummy Tuesday and Blessed With Grace.

What Not To Wear

Hey Chicago peeps - do you and your kids like theater? A chance to win tickets to The Emperor's New Clothes from the Shakespeare Theater here.

***

Last week, I talked about the ummm fun lessons I learned while coaching t-ball. Trust me, they were hilarious. At least in my head. It is possible that I'm going off my rocker after coaching eleven kids in t-ball though.

Anyway, I was going through my camera, and I realized that I had a photo that I was going to share as one of my lessons, but I completely forgot about it. It's still worth sharing though, even on its own.

Just a suggestion. BUT

Don't wear high heels to a t-ball game. Especially not in Chicago where it's been storming for days and the ground is very soft. At a t-ball game, you're likely to have to walk in muddy gravel, muddy grass, just plain mud, or all of the above. Those types of surfaces tend to enjoy swallowing up the pointy ends of heels, either ruining them or making for a not so fun cleaning job since that gravel is like cement.

I am being kind in not showing the face of the person who did this, as it's possible that she's related to me, so just consider this a public service announcement. Heels an t-ball don't mix. (I thought that one was obvious, but evidence shows I was wrong. Very, very wrong.)