tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-79878015884331656832024-03-05T04:01:53.517-05:00Chasing the Scootie TootJennyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01276906940707994369noreply@blogger.comBlogger109125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7987801588433165683.post-91427452501666493862014-06-20T19:42:00.001-04:002014-06-20T19:42:07.990-04:00Fairy Houses<p> We went to Brookside Gardens today. Our buddy Ethan climbed a flagpole. All the way to the top. It was an amazing feat of strength for a 4 year old (for anyone, actually!). Lucy decided she, too, needed to be able to do this, discovered she couldn't and promptly flew off the deep end. Seriously. Crying, screaming, stomping, yelling, trying again, weeping in despair that she'd NEVER EVER be able to do it, telling me never to talk to her again when I tried to encourage her, more crying, more weeping and knashing of teeth. Then she hid in the little school house and wept some more. Just then, the Faires and Gnomes Camp kids came by. They were dressed as fairies, wielding bags of "fairy dust" (chamomile and glitter) and wands and granting wishes. I told them Lucy was very sad and might need some fairy dust to cheer her up. She told them to go away. Then they went away and she started crying anew that she "had missed all the fun forever". I told her we should go find them and I surreptitiously led them back to th car while ostensibly searching for the fairies (who had gone back inside by this point). I then (ahem) got a phone call from the fairy queen who apologized for missing Lucy and instructed us to build a fairy garden when we got home, and make some pixie dust. This calmed her down enough to take a freaking nap. </p><p>She woke up from a dead sleep, talking about how she miss the fun and wanted to find the fairies. So we set to work following the fairy queen's instructions. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: none;">First the pixie dust:</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: none;"><a href="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-IWz9ttJIiVg/U6TGDfL0rfI/AAAAAAAAB6o/dM6EpkBcrik/s1024/Photo%25252020140620193841.jpg" target="_blank" style=""><img src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-IWz9ttJIiVg/U6TGDfL0rfI/AAAAAAAAB6o/dM6EpkBcrik/s500/Photo%25252020140620193841.jpg" id="blogsy-1403307727544.5764" class="alignnone" alt="" width="300" height="400"></a></div><p>It is much sparklier in person.</p><p>Then the costume. She couldn't find her wings and was very upset:</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: none;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-psM11YMCLtY/U6TGFmlIrJI/AAAAAAAAB6w/w8ZtObqxDpo/s1024/Photo%25252020140620193841.jpg" target="_blank" style=""><img src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-psM11YMCLtY/U6TGFmlIrJI/AAAAAAAAB6w/w8ZtObqxDpo/s500/Photo%25252020140620193841.jpg" id="blogsy-1403307727570.312" class="alignnone" alt="" width="300" height="400"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: none;">Happier girl!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: none;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVd0mD0VS_lNigXGVCZt_m-aTCJmfTw47AnmxPzVEyq14MjsXaYadQNvJv_SUbOAOWM6aqWMRte7rejZm6oaJnQqy_dy-CIXpxvU3-Xu0iC-t6e2vu3Gijyqi6Rck-6SYAkrm49aTNEog/s1024/Photo%25252020140620193841.jpg" target="_blank" style=""><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVd0mD0VS_lNigXGVCZt_m-aTCJmfTw47AnmxPzVEyq14MjsXaYadQNvJv_SUbOAOWM6aqWMRte7rejZm6oaJnQqy_dy-CIXpxvU3-Xu0iC-t6e2vu3Gijyqi6Rck-6SYAkrm49aTNEog/s500/Photo%25252020140620193841.jpg" id="blogsy-1403307727617.6658" class="alignnone" alt="" width="300" height="400"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: none;"> Malcolm took a picture of Lucy's fairy beach (which he subsequently destroyed):</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: none;"><a href="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-7VCfXe3LrwI/U6TGNcqwd1I/AAAAAAAAB7A/pxq42n6sHTI/s1024/Photo%25252020140620193841.jpg" target="_blank" style=""><img src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-7VCfXe3LrwI/U6TGNcqwd1I/AAAAAAAAB7A/pxq42n6sHTI/s500/Photo%25252020140620193841.jpg" id="blogsy-1403307727602.4138" class="alignnone" alt="" width="300" height="400"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: none;">This is the Lifeguard's chair (destroyed by Lucy after Malcolm destroyed the beach):</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: none;"><a href="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-FtoaF_jc5_8/U6TGQlbbSSI/AAAAAAAAB7I/5OSjuhthjcg/s1024/Photo%25252020140620193841.jpg" target="_blank" style=""><img src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-FtoaF_jc5_8/U6TGQlbbSSI/AAAAAAAAB7I/5OSjuhthjcg/s500/Photo%25252020140620193841.jpg" id="blogsy-1403307727593.608" class="alignnone" alt="" width="300" height="400"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: none;"> Here are some more of our creations:</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: none;"><a href="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-NAoyV6EBGHc/U6TGTN21gpI/AAAAAAAAB7Q/SunjolNyZYE/s1024/Photo%25252020140620193842.jpg" target="_blank" style=""><img src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-NAoyV6EBGHc/U6TGTN21gpI/AAAAAAAAB7Q/SunjolNyZYE/s500/Photo%25252020140620193842.jpg" id="blogsy-1403307727635.172" class="alignnone" alt="" width="500" height="375"></a></div><p> Fairy castle</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: none;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj96rSL9saTkxqTvQrKSxd5Gqw4Bb2S6nCA56hMVxleFMysrHJ6cViOYZLxEwhUTSA-diR_PMkfi5vZsZANsYLDAAEWFsf7psEtGC3npBKeJMrPnIOtNRuS_tPb_FiH129j6sICRio3-Xk/s1024/Photo%25252020140620193842.jpg" target="_blank" style=""><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj96rSL9saTkxqTvQrKSxd5Gqw4Bb2S6nCA56hMVxleFMysrHJ6cViOYZLxEwhUTSA-diR_PMkfi5vZsZANsYLDAAEWFsf7psEtGC3npBKeJMrPnIOtNRuS_tPb_FiH129j6sICRio3-Xk/s500/Photo%25252020140620193842.jpg" id="blogsy-1403307727612.702" class="alignnone" alt="" width="500" height="667"></a></div><p> New, improved beach and lifeguard chair:</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: none;"><a href="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-SZl-o7OaTZU/U6TGcmauefI/AAAAAAAAB7g/vFUQ58xlbX0/s1024/Photo%25252020140620193842.jpg" target="_blank" style=""><img src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-SZl-o7OaTZU/U6TGcmauefI/AAAAAAAAB7g/vFUQ58xlbX0/s500/Photo%25252020140620193842.jpg" id="blogsy-1403307727603.4895" class="alignnone" alt="" width="500" height="667"></a></div><p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: none;"><a href="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-5cBYxOnFuvM/U6TGiozTFCI/AAAAAAAAB7o/g6fZM6I5cBQ/s1024/Photo%25252020140620193842.jpg" target="_blank" style=""><img src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-5cBYxOnFuvM/U6TGiozTFCI/AAAAAAAAB7o/g6fZM6I5cBQ/s500/Photo%25252020140620193842.jpg" id="blogsy-1403307727642.1174" class="alignnone" alt="" width="500" height="375"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: none;">Fairy Throne:</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: none;"><a href="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-uY9lvBFOx6U/U6TGnZx-2XI/AAAAAAAAB7w/9pu8wAi673A/s1024/Photo%25252020140620193842.jpg" target="_blank" style=""><img src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-uY9lvBFOx6U/U6TGnZx-2XI/AAAAAAAAB7w/9pu8wAi673A/s500/Photo%25252020140620193842.jpg" id="blogsy-1403307727616.7678" class="alignnone" alt="" width="500" height="667"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: none;"><a href="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-Q4awdWJLzOI/U6TGqZwjeHI/AAAAAAAAB74/u9GQIA2_yJ8/s1024/Photo%25252020140620193842.jpg" target="_blank" style=""><img src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-Q4awdWJLzOI/U6TGqZwjeHI/AAAAAAAAB74/u9GQIA2_yJ8/s500/Photo%25252020140620193842.jpg" id="blogsy-1403307727594.4417" class="alignnone" alt="" width="500" height="375"></a></div><p> Fairy houses with a table out front:</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: none;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-i8nlQO_6qGDjmic4CZ3_4r0M1SDl_ndhALbltqtSdYMIbclaI-WSkOoeYzR53sGsWRqJNn9qKJyfCH5ePCaDgl-Ily__wrGu7-clAFRqsIE5YEPn3eBnbgGxh53WQvD7DFnDkZVegOo/s1024/Photo%25252020140620193843.jpg" target="_blank" style=""><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-i8nlQO_6qGDjmic4CZ3_4r0M1SDl_ndhALbltqtSdYMIbclaI-WSkOoeYzR53sGsWRqJNn9qKJyfCH5ePCaDgl-Ily__wrGu7-clAFRqsIE5YEPn3eBnbgGxh53WQvD7DFnDkZVegOo/s500/Photo%25252020140620193843.jpg" id="blogsy-1403307727593.7178" class="alignnone" alt="" width="500" height="375"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: none;">Happy "Fairy Maria":</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: none;"><a href="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-wZE0TzqqJL0/U6TGwahCXyI/AAAAAAAAB8I/m1z9f-bHwjg/s1024/Photo%25252020140620193843.jpg" target="_blank" style=""><img src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-wZE0TzqqJL0/U6TGwahCXyI/AAAAAAAAB8I/m1z9f-bHwjg/s500/Photo%25252020140620193843.jpg" id="blogsy-1403307727654.1294" class="alignnone" alt="" width="500" height="667"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: none;">Throwing Pixie Dust:</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: none;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-Sb5vnFwlH4A/U6TGzDwSmdI/AAAAAAAAB8Q/NzuBz43Mxbk/s1024/Photo%25252020140620193843.jpg" target="_blank" style=""><img src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-Sb5vnFwlH4A/U6TGzDwSmdI/AAAAAAAAB8Q/NzuBz43Mxbk/s500/Photo%25252020140620193843.jpg" id="blogsy-1403307727615.2488" class="alignnone" width="500" height="667" alt=""></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: none;"> </div><p> </p><p> </p><div style="text-align: right; font-size: small; clear: both;" id="blogsy_footer"><a href="http://blogsyapp.com" target="_blank"><img src="http://blogsyapp.com/images/blogsy_footer_icon.png" alt="Posted with Blogsy" style="vertical-align: middle; margin-right: 5px;" width="20" height="20" />Posted with Blogsy</a></div>Jennyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01276906940707994369noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7987801588433165683.post-8894789798944050532014-04-30T13:51:00.001-04:002014-04-30T13:51:20.821-04:00The Poop on the Big Poop<p> Malcolm pooped on the potty today, of his own accord! </p><p>As per usual, that is not the whole story.</p><p>Malcolm has been showing a lot of interest in the potty lately. Reading "Potty" by Leslie Patricelli (author of such riveting fare as "No No, Yes, Yes" and "Big Little"), reading "Elmo's Potty Book" and "cleaning" the toilet at every opportunity. Fortunately, he has started using a toilet brush instead of my toothbrush for that particular task. </p><p><span style="line-height: 1.3em;">It usually goes like this: I mention the bathroom in passing ("Daddy's in the bathroom.") and Malcolm says "Pwease, Mama, use potty!" Then he strips completely naked, including shedding his socks, sits on the potty, releases a little stream of pee, throws vast amounts of toilet paper into the potty for no reason other than he knows Lucy always puts toilet paper in after she pees, flushes and prances away happily, naked cheeks a-jiggling. Every time he poops, he tells me <em>after</em> he poops. When I am changing his diaper - which he fights like a rabid bear - I say "If you don't want me to change your diaper, then you have to tell me <em>before</em> you poop and you can poop in the potty!" Every time, every poop, for weeks I have been saying this.</span></p><p><span style="line-height: 1.3em;">Today, he lays on the floor and says "Mama, have poop!" So we tromp up the stairs, I get him on the changing table only to find there is no poop. </span></p><p><span style="line-height: 1.3em;">"Did you mean you <em>need</em> to poop?"</span></p><p><span style="line-height: 1.3em;">"Yes, Mama. Have POOP!" </span></p><p><span style="line-height: 1.3em;">"Oh! Okay! Let's go!"</span></p><p><span style="line-height: 1.3em;">We go to th bathroom. He strips naked and sits on the potty. He pees. "All done!" </span></p><p><span style="line-height: 1.3em;">"That wasn't poop, buddy, that's pee."</span></p><p><span style="line-height: 1.3em;">"Oh. Awight, Mama, awight. Bye."</span></p><p><span style="line-height: 1.3em;">"You want me to go?"</span></p><p><span style="line-height: 1.3em;">"Yes."</span></p><p><span style="line-height: 1.3em;">I leave. He locks the door. I go to his room and start folding laundry. He runs out three minutes later.</span></p><p><span style="line-height: 1.3em;">"MAMA! POOOOOOOOOOOP!"</span></p><p><span style="line-height: 1.3em;">"Did you poop on the potty!"</span></p><p><span style="line-height: 1.3em;">"YES, MAMA, YES!"</span></p><p><span style="line-height: 1.3em;">I run into the bathroom and there is a perfect littl turd...on the floor in front of the toilet. I burst out laughing.</span></p><p><span style="line-height: 1.3em;">"Close, boy-o! So close! Next time sit <em>on</em> the potty to poop so it goes in the toilet!"</span></p><p><span style="line-height: 1.3em;">"Oh, okay, Mama, okay, awight, okay."</span></p><p><span style="line-height: 1.3em;">I clean up the poop, and take him to get wiped up and into a new diaper. As I clean him up, he says he has to poop. Okay, off to the potty again. He pees.</span></p><p><span style="line-height: 1.3em;">"That's pee, buddy. Pee comes out of your penis, poop comes out of your anus. It is different hole in in your bottom."</span></p><p><span style="line-height: 1.3em;">"Why hole in bottom?"</span></p><p><span style="line-height: 1.3em;">"So the poop can get out."</span></p><p><span style="line-height: 1.3em;">"Oh, okay, Mama. GO AWAY!"</span></p><p><span style="line-height: 1.3em;">"Uhhh...okay..." I leave, return to clothes folding. Fifteen second later, Malcolm comes running out of the bathroom again, looking slightly panic stricken.</span></p><p><span style="line-height: 1.3em;">"MAMA! POOOOOP! Put it back in!"</span></p><p><span style="line-height: 1.3em;">I look out in the hallway and he is running towards me, little chunks of poop falling out of his butt as he runs. Oh Lordy. I pick him up and put him on the potty so I can wipe him up.</span></p><p><span style="line-height: 1.3em;">"More poop. Go AWAY!" </span></p><p><span style="line-height: 1.3em;">Good lord, how much more can he produce? I leave him there with the suggestion that he sit on the potty while he poops, so the poop can go into the potty, then he can watch it flush down if he wants to. Good fun! He giggles a little, as if the suggestion is absurd.</span></p><p><span style="line-height: 1.3em;">"Ha! Okay Mama!"</span></p><p><span style="line-height: 1.3em;">I talk with Kevin for a bit, then go back up to get him dressed so we can go to the grocery store and then pick up Lucy from school.</span></p><p><span style="line-height: 1.3em;">The bathroom has a distinctly aromatic air. Malcolm is still sitting on the potty. There is a very big poop. IN the potty. Kevin and I clap and whoop like idiots. Malcolm smiles a sheepish, but clearly very proud, smile.</span></p><p><span style="line-height: 1.3em;">"Okay, awight, okay, Mama. Poop!"</span></p><div style="text-align: right; font-size: small; clear: both;" id="blogsy_footer"><a href="http://blogsyapp.com" target="_blank"><img src="http://blogsyapp.com/images/blogsy_footer_icon.png" alt="Posted with Blogsy" style="vertical-align: middle; margin-right: 5px;" width="20" height="20" />Posted with Blogsy</a></div>Jennyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01276906940707994369noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7987801588433165683.post-89536003253626420272014-04-01T20:02:00.001-04:002014-04-01T20:03:02.294-04:00On Our 7th Anniversary<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-9KVt-1S7tsA/UztTjAY1UsI/AAAAAAAAB4Q/NDO-89vjm8I/s720/Photo%25252020140401200215.jpg" target="_blank" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-9KVt-1S7tsA/UztTjAY1UsI/AAAAAAAAB4Q/NDO-89vjm8I/s283/Photo%25252020140401200215.jpg" id="blogsy-1396396976747.5022" class="alignleft" width="283" height="283" alt=""></a></div><p> In March of 2007, about two weeks before my wedding, I went to a yoga training. There, I met a kind man named Ranjit. Ranjit was something of an intuitive (though, as his wife said, "a somewhat drunken intuitive"). He came up to me on the last day of the training, after we were all flush from a no-holds-barred, crazy joyful dancing session, and said to me "Are you sure you are going to marry this man? He is a very difficult man. I can see it being very hard for both of you." Just what a girl two weeks from her wedding wants to hear, right? I said "I love him. I've never been sure about anything before, but I am sure about this." Ranjit smiled and hugged me, and that was the end of it. I went home, got married and now today is Kevin and I's seventh anniversary. </p><p>I haven't thought about Ranjit for some time, and for some reason it all came back to me yesterday. And you know, he was right. <span style="line-height: 1.3em;"> </span><span style="line-height: 1.3em;">Kevin is a difficult man, and it</span><span style="line-height: 1.3em;"> has been difficult. We have had money issues, communication issues, parenting issues, issue issues. But what Ranjit failed to mention was that I am also a difficult woman, and marriage is a two way street. It is easy to be negative about someone when the chips are down. But I have noticed some important things. My husband is difficult because he feels. He feels deeply and fully and thinks long and hard about how his actions affect the people around him. He is difficult because he genuinely wants to grow and learn and be a better man. He is difficult because he wants to protect his family from the evils of the world and sometime he just can't see how he can possibly do it the way things stand. </span></p><p>And though Ranjit may have been right about some of the struggles we would face together, he apparently missed all the ways my husband is awesome. </p><p>Kevin cares so much about the little guy, the underdog, the bullied, the forgotten. He would move heaven and earth to give a hand to someone who needed it, and feels their pain like it is his own. </p><p>Kevin is deeply loyal. I know he has my back, my front and all the other sides. I know I can count on him for anything (unless it involves my dirty feet. Then I'm on my own).</p><p>Kevin is really freaking funny. No one else makes me laugh the way he does. No one else has EVER made me laugh the way he does. No one makes <em>anyone</em> laugh the way Kevin does. People literally pay him to make them laugh, and I get it for free, all the time. </p><p>Kevin is gentle and kind. Don't let the gruff exterior and perma-scowl fool you. He does kind things, he says kind things, he gives warm hugs that stop the world and make it all better.</p><p>Kevin is an amazing dad. He makes so much fun for our children. He kisses boo-boos, paints tiny fingernails, plays dress-up, has tea parties, makes movies, runs, throws rocks, builds forts, laughs at inane jokes, makes Mac 'n' cheese like a pro, tucks in, sings, distracts, teaches, protects, provides for, loves loves loves loves loves. Watching Kevin with our kids is one of my greatest joys. Hearing the three of them laugh and play together makes my heart soar. He is an <em>amazing </em>dad.</p><p>Kevin is silly. He makes up silly love songs about me. He does goofy voices. He makes up stories. He tells tall tales. He pulls pranks. He dances like a dork. He knows everything about every movie and actor ever made. <br></p><p>Kevin cares so much about the world. He really does. He says he hates it. He says he hates everybody in it. But that's because he wants so much to make the world a better place for his children, and can't quite find the way to get a handle on how. He cares so much about the world we are leaving our children.</p><p>Kevin loves me. He loves <em>me</em>. As I noted earlier, Ranjit failed to mention how difficult <em>I </em>am. I am picky. I want things my way. I nag, I nitpick, I grumble, I change my mind, I forget to put things on the calendar, my schedule is crazy and totally unpredictable, I leave my damn shoes everywhere, I forget to push in my chair. He more than tolerates me. He loves me and shows it every day.</p><p>So Ranjit was right. And while our life certainly hasn't been rife with tragedy by any stretch of the imagination, there have been some steeper ups and downs than I would have liked. But I'm not sure he wasn't just seeing...life. The fact remains. I love him. I have never been sure of anything, but I am still sure of this.</p><p>Happy anniversary, Kevin.</p><p> </p><div style="text-align: right; font-size: small; clear: both;" id="blogsy_footer"><a href="http://blogsyapp.com" target="_blank"><img src="http://blogsyapp.com/images/blogsy_footer_icon.png" alt="Posted with Blogsy" style="vertical-align: middle; margin-right: 5px;" width="20" height="20" />Posted with Blogsy</a></div>Jennyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01276906940707994369noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7987801588433165683.post-29679192363155612642014-03-07T14:05:00.001-05:002014-03-07T14:12:53.807-05:00Looking for an Elsa Dress? <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-gJvGTGWF-9A/UxoYF4uOqhI/AAAAAAAAB14/G04wiVYoYFw/s1024/Photo%25252020140307140346.jpg" target="_blank" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-gJvGTGWF-9A/UxoYF4uOqhI/AAAAAAAAB14/G04wiVYoYFw/s500/Photo%25252020140307140346.jpg" id="blogsy-1394219121765.0896" class="alignleft" alt="" width="325" height="555"></a></div><p><span style="line-height: 1.3em;">So is every other parent in America. Apparently the producers of FROZEN didn't think Elsa would be the popular sister (b</span><span style="line-height: 1.3em;">etween Elsa's gorgeous dress and her magic ice powers, poor Anna didn't stand a chance), </span><span style="line-height: 1.3em;">so there is a huge Elsa dress shortage. I found a gorgeous one on Amazon.com for $295. Haha. Not happening. However, I had a deep and unexplained desired to put Lucy in an Elsa dress, so I searched everywhere for a pattern or a tutorial on how to do it. I found two. Two sad lonely little pages on how someone's mom made a sub-par Elsa dress. Seriously, people?? There were 194,038 hits for how to make a rubber band banjo and TWO for the most popular Disney princess since, I don't know, Cinderella. And they weren't the loveliest renditions. So I did a little brainstorming and a lot of thinking-while-driving and this is what I came up.</span></p><p>Here are the raw materials:</p><p>2 yards (54") of teal glitter costume satin for the skirt and bodice backing</p><p><span style="line-height: 1.3em;">1/2 yard (36") of some sort of sequin-y, sparkly fabric for the outer bodice (sequins are hard to sew, glitter sheds, lace snags. Choose that which you find the least irritating).</span></p><address><span style="line-height: 1.3em;">2 yards (54") of lacy sparkly fabric for the cape</span></address><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: none;">1-3 yards narrow trim of choice</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: none;">Sew-on jewels (NOT glue-on or bedazzler type jewels-make sure they have holes in them).</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: none;">White or light blue leotard. I got mine <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Capezio-Girls-Sleeve-Leotard-4-6/dp/B002R0FAA6/ref=sr_1_2?ie=UTF8&qid=1394161657&sr=8-2&keywords=leotard+long+sleeve" target="_blank" title="">here</a>.<br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: none;">Directions:</div><p>Before I start, I must highly, HIGHLY recommend using a serger with this fabric. Borrow one, buy one, steal one, just serge the crap out of this stuff. It frays like a sombitch. </p><p>Get a few measurements. And I do mean a few. Basically all you need is the hip measurement since little girls are pretty much the same size top to bottom, but just for giggles, get the waist, chest, and length from armpit to waist, too. Now, add 3" to the hip measurement, and you have th basis for th whole dress. You want her to be able to step into the dress from the top.</p><p><span style="line-height: 1.3em;">Trim the leotard with a sparkly silver or white sequin braid. I had to do this by hand. Well...I had to do it by hand if I wanted to work on the dress AND watch Brooklyn 99 at the same time.</span></p><p><span style="line-height: 1.3em;">Cut the leotard off at the waist (or slightly below the waist).</span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: none;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhO7gYLMB4YNzjVLI07_lM6mZ3Q-8NzeNXnMu-ylnOyNzEk766Jl0ZdisBBItsYdv7_2oLfjr_ukU_UytazSA2OhEttAePvudgrhiIGfjGdKt0tywZxJYe7kmr9de0sEv50dHss7Zh2W-Q/s1024/Photo%25252020140307140346.jpg" target="_blank" style=""><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhO7gYLMB4YNzjVLI07_lM6mZ3Q-8NzeNXnMu-ylnOyNzEk766Jl0ZdisBBItsYdv7_2oLfjr_ukU_UytazSA2OhEttAePvudgrhiIGfjGdKt0tywZxJYe7kmr9de0sEv50dHss7Zh2W-Q/s500/Photo%25252020140307140346.jpg" id="blogsy-1394219121707.939" class="alignnone" alt="" width="322" height="286"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: none;"><span style="line-height: 1.3em;">Skirt:</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: none;"><span style="line-height: 1.3em;">The costume satin should measure 74" long and 54" wide. Cut about 10" off of the BOTTOM of the glitter satin (so now it should measure roughly 44" wide, still 74" long), and set the smaller piece aside for the bodice. Sew the skirt together, stopping about 10" down (to create the slit in the skirt; sew all the way own if you don't want a slit). Finish the edges of the slit by rolling the edges under and making a narrow hem. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: none;"><span style="line-height: 1.3em;">Hide the seam in a few deep pleats (which for some reason I didn't take a picture of) and gather the rest of the skirt.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: none;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Cut a ribbon to the hip measurement plus ~3" and sew it into a circle. Make sure your Elsa can step into this ribbon and get it comfortably up around her waist before proceeding. Sew the skirt to the ribbon. It did this because I hate measuring. I want to do it one time. I knew I was sewing this skirt to a stretchy leotard and I didn't want to have to measure a million times to make sure it was still the right circumference. I actually sewed it on wrong, but it worked out fine, and frankly doesn't really matter since it is going to be hidden under the bodice.</div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: none;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaD9nFEqzPKV84N4P151zk0bGlmOYs560Q1HJ5rm7SwCCRSpH9ffVCbKkc6IImdEBPAtSBCaPR01ZXL-ceLnBngT7pfLmrwh4pi2JgqL_dyCxGZzTD6Wnwe5fBt1RkXlGue2I5cwDYs8M/s1024/Photo%25252020140307140346.jpg" target="_blank" style=""><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaD9nFEqzPKV84N4P151zk0bGlmOYs560Q1HJ5rm7SwCCRSpH9ffVCbKkc6IImdEBPAtSBCaPR01ZXL-ceLnBngT7pfLmrwh4pi2JgqL_dyCxGZzTD6Wnwe5fBt1RkXlGue2I5cwDYs8M/s500/Photo%25252020140307140346.jpg" id="blogsy-1394219121709.1067" class="alignnone" alt="" width="301" height="403"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: none;"><a href="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-1JYeRpR3QqY/UxoYKO5azHI/AAAAAAAAB2Q/vG9B-KDGvhs/s1024/Photo%25252020140307140346.jpg" target="_blank" style=""><img src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-1JYeRpR3QqY/UxoYKO5azHI/AAAAAAAAB2Q/vG9B-KDGvhs/s500/Photo%25252020140307140346.jpg" id="blogsy-1394219121715.6697" class="alignnone" alt="" width="331" height="247"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: none;"><span style="line-height: 1.3em;"></span>Pin the skirt to the bottom of the leotard (use a lot of pins to make sure it is even). Sew it together, hem the bottom edge at the appropriate length and the s<span style="line-height: 1.3em;">kirt is done. This is what the inside looked like. May I take this moment to again encourage you to serge the living crap out of this?</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: none;"><a href="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-xNh74EnA-DA/UxoYLp6rLDI/AAAAAAAAB2Y/GyPSXtd69tw/s1024/Photo%25252020140307140347.jpg" target="_blank" style=""><img src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-xNh74EnA-DA/UxoYLp6rLDI/AAAAAAAAB2Y/GyPSXtd69tw/s500/Photo%25252020140307140347.jpg" id="blogsy-1394219121782.571" class="alignnone" alt="" width="324" height="241"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: none;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGeK1i5eEFJ5j9oIQHNx4KudakaFmpQAD13iewNq8iGo7S0L0fXGhPep3-4yM95AGwcWsVcMPBy8svtp6YW2tVPJupGa-LRavU4PZ5W1vyN2QSAXmI54HgCFWTfDk-O4GaCclM1Z8s1R0/s1024/Photo%25252020140307140347.jpg" target="_blank" style=""><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGeK1i5eEFJ5j9oIQHNx4KudakaFmpQAD13iewNq8iGo7S0L0fXGhPep3-4yM95AGwcWsVcMPBy8svtp6YW2tVPJupGa-LRavU4PZ5W1vyN2QSAXmI54HgCFWTfDk-O4GaCclM1Z8s1R0/s500/Photo%25252020140307140347.jpg" id="blogsy-1394219121762.0007" class="alignnone" alt="" width="304" height="407"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: none;">Malcolm got ahold of my phone at this point and took some pictures for me:</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: none;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-OEF-PU2PMP8/UxoYOiaSFpI/AAAAAAAAB2o/4Y3tpMBrWjw/s1024/Photo%25252020140307140347.jpg" target="_blank" style=""><img src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-OEF-PU2PMP8/UxoYOiaSFpI/AAAAAAAAB2o/4Y3tpMBrWjw/s500/Photo%25252020140307140347.jpg" id="blogsy-1394219121781.055" class="alignnone" alt="" width="300" height="401"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: none;">Bodice:</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: none;">Using the chest and torso measurements you took earlier, cut a long rectangle from the extra satin you cut off the skirt. Add a few inches for seam allowance, closures and shaping. Lucy's chest measured 23.25", and the torso length was 6.5" so I cut a rectangle measuring 27" x 10". Then I shaped the point in the front by cutting at an angle from the sides down to the middle. Cut a matching piece out of the sparkly bodice fabric. Pin them together, right sides together. Sew around the edge, leaving a hole to turn it right side out. C<span style="line-height: 1.3em;">Iip the corners and turn it right side out. Press the seams flat (be aware, this satin will melt/scorch if you aren't extremely careful with the temperature!). </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: none;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1nO4oSS-XwAK32hZgtH7YIflR4hn2UAuvFMu1-s2HIr71hAC0wQtsW_7m_nzyM845N3vMlxrTz4zobVgwoqVQ9fnAIf6hXZKr7BfxtwLRNA9Zs3qxaFnF5kCZuzGgnMB758FjilUn7Nc/s1024/Photo%25252020140307140347.jpg" target="_blank" style=""><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1nO4oSS-XwAK32hZgtH7YIflR4hn2UAuvFMu1-s2HIr71hAC0wQtsW_7m_nzyM845N3vMlxrTz4zobVgwoqVQ9fnAIf6hXZKr7BfxtwLRNA9Zs3qxaFnF5kCZuzGgnMB758FjilUn7Nc/s500/Photo%25252020140307140347.jpg" id="blogsy-1394219121789.747" class="alignnone" alt="" width="345" height="257"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: none;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglpImjx_lWqp6QOCFtDS-UKhNaMbdgSJI4xqGwoF_hME65h8Ohp0otiqPUPaUhfLEKpGeFbc9xyK_KvIbEY9sV-iHzo-pA015Fk8MmdExfTvz9AxVEJozCUrk2c3AICG_t4_bYpjVIebA/s1024/Photo%25252020140307140347.jpg" target="_blank" style=""><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglpImjx_lWqp6QOCFtDS-UKhNaMbdgSJI4xqGwoF_hME65h8Ohp0otiqPUPaUhfLEKpGeFbc9xyK_KvIbEY9sV-iHzo-pA015Fk8MmdExfTvz9AxVEJozCUrk2c3AICG_t4_bYpjVIebA/s500/Photo%25252020140307140347.jpg" id="blogsy-1394219121779.3916" class="alignnone" alt="" width="344" height="257"></a></div><p> I cut mine a little short, so I just added a few inches after the fact and now it is adjustable to a bigger sizzle. Which is so cool...and I totally did it on purpose...</p><p>Add your closures (I used snaps, Velcro will work just fine, though it will snag the cape, so just be aware).</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: none;"><a href="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-lpBjmCmhzmo/UxoYSpF4aXI/AAAAAAAAB3A/wRObj90ZixU/s764/Photo%25252020140307140347.jpg" target="_blank" style=""><img src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-lpBjmCmhzmo/UxoYSpF4aXI/AAAAAAAAB3A/wRObj90ZixU/s500/Photo%25252020140307140347.jpg" id="blogsy-1394219121759.2175" class="alignnone" alt="" width="313" height="293"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: none;">The bodice is not quite done, but set it aside for a moment and go to the cape.</div><p> Cape:</p><p>Hem the or serge the cape fabric. Gather the top edge so it is 6-7" wide. Sew this across the back of the leotard.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: none;"><a href="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-gV2QCWHC7OA/UxoYT1Yk3vI/AAAAAAAAB3I/HpS4uZU_SbM/s1024/Photo%25252020140307140347.jpg" target="_blank" style=""><img src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-gV2QCWHC7OA/UxoYT1Yk3vI/AAAAAAAAB3I/HpS4uZU_SbM/s500/Photo%25252020140307140347.jpg" id="blogsy-1394219121806.2546" class="alignnone" alt="" width="325" height="436"></a></div><p> Finishing:</p><p>I had some real questions about how to attach the bodice to the leotard. I decided that I wanted to preserve as much stretch in the leotard as possible (since I want her to be able to step into it, and wear it as she gets bigger), so sewing it all the way around would pretty much destroy the awesome adjustability I built into the bodice (again, totally my plan...). So instead, I used the sew-on jewels to attach the bodice across the front of the leotard for a few inches. Pin the bodice to the appropriate place on the leotard and sew all the way through all layers as you attached th jewels to the front of the dress. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: none;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-4wjyDgNHUWE/UxoYVJm8xzI/AAAAAAAAB3Q/Y3U4hXc342E/s1024/Photo%25252020140307140348.jpg" target="_blank" style=""><img src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-4wjyDgNHUWE/UxoYVJm8xzI/AAAAAAAAB3Q/Y3U4hXc342E/s500/Photo%25252020140307140348.jpg" id="blogsy-1394219121789.3313" class="alignnone" alt="" width="336" height="450"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-ba3Ieal2V2w/UxoYWjdIDpI/AAAAAAAAB3Y/8V031Ty5_LI/s1024/Photo%25252020140307140348.jpg" target="_blank" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-ba3Ieal2V2w/UxoYWjdIDpI/AAAAAAAAB3Y/8V031Ty5_LI/s500/Photo%25252020140307140348.jpg" id="blogsy-1394219121810.5151" class="alignleft" alt="" width="332" height="445"></a></div><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: none;">There you have it! Finished dress, happy girl! And I don't take Pinterest-worthy photos, I'm afraid.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: none;"><a href="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-_K2iHxVEFW4/UxoYX-4EhXI/AAAAAAAAB3g/DXLAappsUjY/s1024/Photo%25252020140307140348.jpg" target="_blank" style=""><img src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-_K2iHxVEFW4/UxoYX-4EhXI/AAAAAAAAB3g/DXLAappsUjY/s500/Photo%25252020140307140348.jpg" id="blogsy-1394219121730.7778" class="alignnone" alt="" width="500" height="1258"></a></div><p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: none;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvnMetpd44oW_dN3zdFrGHEtzzaOyUL0CI29T8ICmMLhHQNohWuQ-WH_VZgLwZkIsLeOWxhQDAsP6oVx1GJl3nGsKgxMNpWOzcRVSXD73MBaKuqgdmLqVr_N3_5S6fGLnldsCiSvEHxmk/s1024/Photo%25252020140307140348.jpg" target="_blank" style=""><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvnMetpd44oW_dN3zdFrGHEtzzaOyUL0CI29T8ICmMLhHQNohWuQ-WH_VZgLwZkIsLeOWxhQDAsP6oVx1GJl3nGsKgxMNpWOzcRVSXD73MBaKuqgdmLqVr_N3_5S6fGLnldsCiSvEHxmk/s500/Photo%25252020140307140348.jpg" id="blogsy-1394219121735.1543" class="alignnone" alt="" width="500" height="1369"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: none;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgijXOGVAJ7vvp66LyJP3-uW0n8CqEW6CVJz5phLr0kbA5x0izvqyMeRcxUlexYhvbCTvevov8AEVO_jKNH6EKOoAtnhswO93tFbNUlAZjAUSTgvIbdcPK7ONTn9Z0wz-yM9h6A95PkR_Q/s1024/Photo%25252020140307140348.jpg" target="_blank" style=""><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgijXOGVAJ7vvp66LyJP3-uW0n8CqEW6CVJz5phLr0kbA5x0izvqyMeRcxUlexYhvbCTvevov8AEVO_jKNH6EKOoAtnhswO93tFbNUlAZjAUSTgvIbdcPK7ONTn9Z0wz-yM9h6A95PkR_Q/s500/Photo%25252020140307140348.jpg" id="blogsy-1394219121735.588" class="alignnone" alt="" width="500" height="742"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: none;"><a href="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-HzcNz9htKCs/UxoYboXDf3I/AAAAAAAAB34/SQf4Y4-u7jA/s1024/Photo%25252020140307140348.jpg" target="_blank" style=""><img src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-HzcNz9htKCs/UxoYboXDf3I/AAAAAAAAB34/SQf4Y4-u7jA/s500/Photo%25252020140307140348.jpg" id="blogsy-1394219121800.8486" class="alignnone" width="500" height="935" alt=""></a></div><p> </p><p> </p><div style="text-align: right; font-size: small; clear: both;" id="blogsy_footer"><a href="http://blogsyapp.com" target="_blank"><img src="http://blogsyapp.com/images/blogsy_footer_icon.png" alt="Posted with Blogsy" style="vertical-align: middle; margin-right: 5px;" width="20" height="20" />Posted with Blogsy</a></div>Jennyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01276906940707994369noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7987801588433165683.post-8732352703196029732014-02-05T11:48:00.001-05:002014-02-05T11:48:45.947-05:00Reusable Painting Surface<p> Lucy loves to paint. I love her paintings. Until the the time comes to purge and she freaks out and doesn't let me recycle even one of her roughly 30 million masterpieces. Malcolm loves to make messes, play with soap and splash in water. This activity let each kid do their favorite thing, and spared me even one single painting to hang to dry. </p>
<p><span style="line-height: 1.3em;"><br>
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<p><span style="line-height: 1.3em;">I laminated several pieces of construction paper, set up a bin of soap and water and let them loose with paints. Lucy could paint and then wash the pictures off in the bin (her reaction? "THIS IS AWESOME, MAMA!"). </span><span style="line-height: 1.3em;">Lucy was surprisingly willing to wash her work away.</span><span style="line-height: 1.3em;"> Malcolm made and washed one picture. Then he learned about cause and effect as he put his head in the water over and over. He is the living example of the definition of insanity...</span></p>
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<p> </p>
<p> <span style="line-height: 1.3em;">We did 23 pictures. And now there are none. Perfect.</span></p>
<p> </p><div style="text-align: right; font-size: small; clear: both;" id="blogsy_footer"><a href="http://blogsyapp.com" target="_blank"><img src="http://blogsyapp.com/images/blogsy_footer_icon.png" alt="Posted with Blogsy" style="vertical-align: middle; margin-right: 5px;" width="20" height="20" />Posted with Blogsy</a></div>Jennyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01276906940707994369noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7987801588433165683.post-72890334448803873802014-01-10T10:15:00.000-05:002014-01-10T10:15:00.745-05:00Kaylee and Alyssa's Birth Story<p> This is a twin birth story from my online mama friend, Lori. I love when a cesarean birth story ends with a perfectly happy mom who got everything she needed AND healthy babies. Goes to show that there is joy in every birth, no matter the mode of delivery! </p>
<p>***</p>
<p>We were told at our very first ultrasound that we were having twins. We had done IUI (a fertility procedure) and Clomid (a fertility drug) so we always knew there was a chance - but the surprise was that they were identical, which neither of those things can cause! From the next appointment on (and there were many many appointments and many ultrasounds) we were thoroughly explained the many risks of carrying not only twins, but monozygotic/diamniotic twins. I had been told that the hospital and doctors were willing to allow a vaginal birth in the case that: Baby A (the one presenting) was head down and that a doctor comfortable with a breech delivery (in case B was breech or flipped to breech during A’s delivery) was on staff and willing to do the delivery. I did every amount of planning and “type A” preparation that I could. I had a birth plan written out and my hospital bags packed and in the car by 28-ish weeks. They had both been head down for weeks, and at around 30 weeks, it seemed like something had “slipped”, causing me to be in enough pain to go into triage to be monitored - babies were okay, but were both now breech. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Contractions began on their own at 35+1. I kept a pretty good record of them via a phone app (highly recommended! the app will do the math for you, especially once they really start up, math is hard to do.) and I was only having them every 7-10 minutes, if that. Lots of yoga ball bouncing and trying to stay comfortable for the night and calling triage nurses to confirm when they wanted me to come in. We all agreed on “when they get closer together” because the hospital is about an hour from us (the closer to us does not have a NICU and weren’t able to deliver identical twins without the risk of being flight transferred to Seattle while I was stuck behind). The next afternoon they jumped pretty suddenly to being about 5-7 minutes apart, so we hopped in the car and went to the hospital.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Upon arrival, they hooked me up to the monitors and I was checked for dialation, at that point I was at 3cm. They weren’t all too sure about whether or not I would deliver or be sent home, but because of both babies still being breech, we filled out the c-section consent form so it didn’t need to be done in a rush of activity later. They let 2 hours go by and checked me again (while having constant back labor, all contractions showing on the monitor, and me stuck on a break away bed with the break right where the contractions were in my back, mind you!) - I was now a 6-7cm and Kaylee kicked the doctor!</p>
<p> </p>
<p>This is where things became a blur; We were delivering that day and quick. They confirmed when the last time was that I had eaten, discussed giving me my epidural in the triage room so it had enough time to take effect before being rushed to the OR for a c-section (they didn’t end up doing this). Because I had dilated relatively quickly (and babies clearly wanted out!) they were concerned with both being breech that they would continue to try to come on their own before they could get in for the c-section. We were taken to a delivery room, epidural given, and moved to the OR pretty quickly.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>From there, it really became a blur in the quickness of activity, the drugs, the hormones, and the emotions. We had arrived at triage around 4pm and Kaylee and Alyssa were born via c-section at 8:38 and 8:39pm, both with Apgar scores of 9! Kaylee (5lb 3oz) immediately came to the room with me, Alyssa (4lb 2oz) was admitted to the NICU per policy due to being low weight. She was able to room-in with me and her sister after overnight monitoring.</p>
<p> </p>
<p><span style="line-height: 1.3em;">I went into my birth with a full researched plan of what I wanted in a best case scenario, but also knowing at that point I needed to “let go” and that the girls may have their own plans. I controlled what I could, I stood up for what I needed to, and the girls came out healthy and happy.</span></p>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: none;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXH0RBMCZpmh4qzEYr5rU2bqSWpUddYCnkH4lVg2ZWjlZzK30HJAF1USw1dPS0dMgoh58dRm3RshURClQCpIFCXYpfUX4mQCFprP0uK_zrXRAd0S4Pn2Jyfrf4C2g3IiBJ_JAclyKsYQk/s640/Photo%252520Jan%2525209%25252C%2525202014%25252C%2525201%25253A08%252520PM.jpg" target="_blank" style=""><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXH0RBMCZpmh4qzEYr5rU2bqSWpUddYCnkH4lVg2ZWjlZzK30HJAF1USw1dPS0dMgoh58dRm3RshURClQCpIFCXYpfUX4mQCFprP0uK_zrXRAd0S4Pn2Jyfrf4C2g3IiBJ_JAclyKsYQk/s500/Photo%252520Jan%2525209%25252C%2525202014%25252C%2525201%25253A08%252520PM.jpg" id="blogsy-1389291363927.3047" class="alignnone" width="500" height="375" alt=""></a></div>
<p> </p>
<p> </p><div style="text-align: right; font-size: small; clear: both;" id="blogsy_footer"><a href="http://blogsyapp.com" target="_blank"><img src="http://blogsyapp.com/images/blogsy_footer_icon.png" alt="Posted with Blogsy" style="vertical-align: middle; margin-right: 5px;" width="20" height="20" />Posted with Blogsy</a></div>Jennyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01276906940707994369noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7987801588433165683.post-14291963036155478322014-01-05T13:37:00.001-05:002014-01-05T13:37:53.137-05:00Adventures in Placenta Encapsulation<p> Placentas are really cool. Like " Holy cow, I grew a new organ that grew a baby and then my body totally just got rid of it and now it's been in my freezer for four years because that is way too fascinating to just throw away" kind of cool. Seriously, I could just look at placentas all day long. They are bloody, messy, gross, slippery, slide-y and amazingly, astonishingly unequivically beautiful. A true testament to the power and wisdom of the human body.</p>
<p>And people just throw them away every day! I know a lot women think placentophagy (mammals consuming the placenta postpartum) is gross or off-putting, but really, it is no grosser than popping a vitamin. Unless you eat it raw and steaming straight from your vagina. That's pretty gross, in my opinion. Actually, just writing that grosses me out. Anyway...</p>
<p>A couple of weeks ago, I had the opportunity to learn how to encapsulate and tincture placentas. It's a pretty cool process, and since I am not sure how a paying client would feel about me documenting their placenta encapsulation, I decided to thaw my own two frosty life-popsicles and make some medicine. Since I had my kids, I have found that I have raging, horrifying, lock-myself-in-an-underground-bunker-for-a-week PMS. I'm hoping that if I take these capsules in during that hell week might make life easier...for my family. I also want that tincture, since it will likely last me through menopause, and if it is anything like my PMS, we are all gonna want a little help.</p>
<p>So here it is: Lucy and Malcolm's placentas, medicine-ized.</p>
<p>Lucy's placenta, with extra-long cord:</p>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: none;"><a href="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-2P4qCSg0LhI/Usml6GJPqwI/AAAAAAAABv4/P0xnOWvlLL8/s1024/Photo%252520Jan%2525202%25252C%2525202014%25252C%2525202%25253A03%252520PM.jpg" target="_blank" style=""><img src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-2P4qCSg0LhI/Usml6GJPqwI/AAAAAAAABv4/P0xnOWvlLL8/s500/Photo%252520Jan%2525202%25252C%2525202014%25252C%2525202%25253A03%252520PM.jpg" id="blogsy-1388947073089.919" class="alignnone" alt="" width="300" height="298"></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: none;"><p><span style="line-height: 1.3em;">Malcolm's placenta was smaller, with a much shorter cord:</span><br>
</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: none;"><a href="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-t6f3Yn2KGgw/Usml7kFsyuI/AAAAAAAABwA/RdfdAprQlCE/s1024/Photo%252520Jan%2525202%25252C%2525202014%25252C%2525202%25253A30%252520PM.jpg" target="_blank" style=""><img src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-t6f3Yn2KGgw/Usml7kFsyuI/AAAAAAAABwA/RdfdAprQlCE/s500/Photo%252520Jan%2525202%25252C%2525202014%25252C%2525202%25253A30%252520PM.jpg" id="blogsy-1388947073029.3054" class="alignnone" alt="" width="292" height="327"></a></div>
</div><p>The first thing I did was thaw the placentas in the fridge for about 3 days. My intention was to get to them as soon as they were unfrozen enough to work with, but I needed to go to the liquor store to get some vodka for the tincture. This week, I discovered at the Montgomery County liquor stores don't open until noon, and stopping at the liquor store after picking up your kid from preschool is awkward. Perhaps less awkward than being the lady waiting at the door for the store to open and promptly buying the largest bottle of 100 proof vodka available, 4-year-old in tow. Maybe that's totally justifiable...</p>
<p><span style="line-height: 1.3em;">So, thawed placenta. I decided that since I had two placentas, I would use the two most common methods (maybe the only two?) for preparation: raw and Traditional Chinese Medicine-inspired. Lucy's was prepared raw, Malcolm's with TCM. First, I rinsed them and removed as much blood as possible. Lucy's had a lot of blood in it, Malcolm's looked as though it had been drained already, although there were several large clots on the maternal side. I set Mal's aside and worked with Lucy's. After rinsing, I removed the cord and patted it dry as thoroughly as I could with a paper towel.</span></p>
<p><span style="line-height: 1.3em;">One of the first memories I have of Lucy extra-utero is the midwife unwrapping the cord from around her neck two times. In my memory, she is swinging it around my slimy newborn like a lasso, though I highly doubt the cord was flying as widely as I am remembering. </span></p>
<p><span style="line-height: 1.3em;">But seriously, it was long enough to spell out LOVE:</span></p>
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<p> </p>
<p>One of my first memories of Malcolm was not being able to get him up very far on my chest, because his cord seemed short. It was pretty short, but I could still make a little heart with it. I placed the cords on the dehydrator. </p>
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<p> I cut the placenta into smallish chunks. <span style="line-height: 1.3em;">After slicing and dicing. I placed it on the dehydrator tray. Yum!</span></p>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-5WmS-zr1VPo/Usml_9-KbCI/AAAAAAAABwY/0e7jaVyopNQ/s1024/Photo%252520Jan%2525202%25252C%2525202014%25252C%2525202%25253A21%252520PM.jpg" target="_blank" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-5WmS-zr1VPo/Usml_9-KbCI/AAAAAAAABwY/0e7jaVyopNQ/s500/Photo%252520Jan%2525202%25252C%2525202014%25252C%2525202%25253A21%252520PM.jpg" id="blogsy-1388947073064.2761" class="alignleft" alt="" width="300" height="224"></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: none;">After the chop chop, I dropped a good-sized chunk of placenta into roughly 18 oz of vodka. This will sit in a cool dark place for about six weeks, after which I will strain it through cheesecloth and use it to tame the wild hormonal beast. I made a tincture from a piece of both placentas, since it can also be used for the child's hose placenta it was. I have heard it is like a "reset" button for a kid having a crappy day. I am hoping it is sort of like the "Easy" button from the Staples commercials, though I am sure to be disappointed in that regard, as I don't expect an army of nannies to arrive when I use it on the kids, nor do I expect they will bring me a million dollars. I tinctured Lucy's raw and Malcolm's after the steaming process (this one is Malcolm's):</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: none;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLEBQmmIj_XZNqRfjpHMv8I1G5cz47Y6UCRol9_jCu9zhOqdlCeIqsZ8pOCaabMDWNHyjXQZSoMSKEUOuvPNCIGFPiMn9RVFlwCX5avikCWSEM6vavCuok9m2yFVKPf_rVwBk02bAlenE/s1024/Photo%252520Jan%2525202%25252C%2525202014%25252C%2525203%25253A11%252520PM.jpg" target="_blank" style=""><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLEBQmmIj_XZNqRfjpHMv8I1G5cz47Y6UCRol9_jCu9zhOqdlCeIqsZ8pOCaabMDWNHyjXQZSoMSKEUOuvPNCIGFPiMn9RVFlwCX5avikCWSEM6vavCuok9m2yFVKPf_rVwBk02bAlenE/s500/Photo%252520Jan%2525202%25252C%2525202014%25252C%2525203%25253A11%252520PM.jpg" id="blogsy-1388947073027.4827" class="alignnone" alt="" width="300" height="513"></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: none;">Lucy decided she wanted to help, so of course, she had to wear gloves like Mama. It's pretty cool, though. I mean how many people can say they've seen and held their own placenta??!</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: none;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuUO3Tjma2lmlYNcKfuY4Rx5ckHnHf-AOU8Ku9HbzN2EGJJ5BveN9HWfUtMhAkW8TEIyB-fOPYV0gQ-E_GGjtinkqBzOif0IM9_I-ETlBEfChJpFlpuC3-lRPpW6nR_SM2R5lzUbra3EM/s1024/Photo%252520Jan%2525202%25252C%2525202014%25252C%2525202%25253A19%252520PM.jpg" target="_blank" style=""><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuUO3Tjma2lmlYNcKfuY4Rx5ckHnHf-AOU8Ku9HbzN2EGJJ5BveN9HWfUtMhAkW8TEIyB-fOPYV0gQ-E_GGjtinkqBzOif0IM9_I-ETlBEfChJpFlpuC3-lRPpW6nR_SM2R5lzUbra3EM/s500/Photo%252520Jan%2525202%25252C%2525202014%25252C%2525202%25253A19%252520PM.jpg" id="blogsy-1388947073088.832" class="alignnone" alt="" width="304" height="407"></a></div>
<p> She wasn't <em>entirely</em> sure she wanted to be holding it. </p>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: none;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-iYHslVJ-NBw/UsmmDA-xIDI/AAAAAAAABww/5w3PVkECXx0/s1024/Photo%252520Jan%2525202%25252C%2525202014%25252C%2525202%25253A19%252520PM.jpg" target="_blank" style=""><img src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-iYHslVJ-NBw/UsmmDA-xIDI/AAAAAAAABww/5w3PVkECXx0/s500/Photo%252520Jan%2525202%25252C%2525202014%25252C%2525202%25253A19%252520PM.jpg" id="blogsy-1388947073022.253" class="alignnone" alt="" width="307" height="411"></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: none;">But while we are looking at pictures of my kid, is she not the cutest girl EVER?<br>
</div>
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<p> <span style="line-height: 1.3em;">Moving on. I got to work on Malcolm's next. Traditional Chinese Medicine says that we steam or simmer the placenta with warming herbs (lemon or lemongrass, ginger and a hot pepper). I sliced up a lemon, a good-sized chunk of ginger and a hot pepper, placing them in pot and filling with enough water to cover. My teacher said to lay the placenta on top of the herbs and gently simmer for an hour. I am pretty bad at remembering things on the stove for more than 20 minutes or so. Just ask my husband who more than once has come home to a house filled with burning something-or-other and me blithely taking a shower or napping or something else that didn't involve remembering stuff on the stove. My first attempt at TCM ended with a huge, stinky placenta mess all over the stove because the whole shebang boiled over. So I decided to steam instead of simmer, since steaming was a 12-15 minutes on one side, then flip over and steam for another 12-15 minutes kind of process. Better for my attention span.</span></p>
<p><span style="line-height: 1.3em;"> </span></p>
<p><span style="line-height: 1.3em;">So, I wrapped the placenta in the membranes, such as they were. I remember after the birth my midwife showed me that the two layers of amniotic sac had separated, and so it was a somewhat slippery mess, especially after 2+ years in the freezer.</span></p>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: none;"><a href="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-gHMKm9UAxjw/UsmmFp0QPlI/AAAAAAAABxA/2Z-CVjs5A4E/s1024/Photo%252520Jan%2525202%25252C%2525202014%25252C%2525202%25253A40%252520PM.jpg" target="_blank" style=""><img src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-gHMKm9UAxjw/UsmmFp0QPlI/AAAAAAAABxA/2Z-CVjs5A4E/s500/Photo%252520Jan%2525202%25252C%2525202014%25252C%2525202%25253A40%252520PM.jpg" id="blogsy-1388947073029.36" class="alignnone" alt="" width="300" height="401"></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: none;">Looks a little like a heart in an autopsy tray.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: none;"> </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: none;">I brought the water to a boil and then turned it WAY way down, to minimize boil-over risk. I steamed it for 12 minutes, flipped it over they steamed for another 12 minutes. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: none;"><a href="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-JeDkdbjPJoo/UsmmG7hv8II/AAAAAAAABxI/aXynGVC3zYE/s1024/Photo%252520Jan%2525202%25252C%2525202014%25252C%2525202%25253A46%252520PM.jpg" target="_blank" style=""><img src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-JeDkdbjPJoo/UsmmG7hv8II/AAAAAAAABxI/aXynGVC3zYE/s500/Photo%252520Jan%2525202%25252C%2525202014%25252C%2525202%25253A46%252520PM.jpg" id="blogsy-1388947073064.2935" class="alignnone" alt="" width="300" height="401"></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: none;">The first placenta I prepared according to TCM started out the size of a salad plate and was about the size of my fist after I boiled it over. It should cook down a little bit, but not THAT much. After it cooled a bit, I removed the membranes and I cut it into little chunks. It was much easier to cut than the raw one (which, in restrospect, would have been better served by a good pair of kitchen shears than a knife).</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: none;"><a href="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-5PnDv9eHXxc/UsmmIO9HeSI/AAAAAAAABxQ/dNiSRt5QWAE/s1024/Photo%252520Jan%2525202%25252C%2525202014%25252C%2525203%25253A01%252520PM.jpg" target="_blank" style=""><img src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-5PnDv9eHXxc/UsmmIO9HeSI/AAAAAAAABxQ/dNiSRt5QWAE/s500/Photo%252520Jan%2525202%25252C%2525202014%25252C%2525203%25253A01%252520PM.jpg" id="blogsy-1388947073028.6968" class="alignnone" alt="" width="300" height="401"></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: none;">I placed it on the dehydrator tray and set it for ~150 degrees. Basically, anything above 140 is fine. Anything below that temperature will not inhibit the growth of bacteria, and so...y'know...yuck.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: none;"><a href="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-Ej7DOj5Gvnk/UsmmJYQ6jcI/AAAAAAAABxY/xxr7Ou1Vbgg/s1024/Photo%252520Jan%2525202%25252C%2525202014%25252C%2525203%25253A02%252520PM.jpg" target="_blank" style=""><img src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-Ej7DOj5Gvnk/UsmmJYQ6jcI/AAAAAAAABxY/xxr7Ou1Vbgg/s500/Photo%252520Jan%2525202%25252C%2525202014%25252C%2525203%25253A02%252520PM.jpg" id="blogsy-1388947073108.0093" class="alignnone" alt="" width="300" height="301"></a></div>
<p> Now, the part about TCM preparation that you don't hear about a lot is that the mom is supposed to drink the broth created by the steaming process. So...I strained the herbs and pepper out, poured a big steaming cup of placenta tea, put some honey in it and gave it a try!</p>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: none;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-vTbFD45gPSk/UsmmMO3ZQLI/AAAAAAAABxo/syBc7KlWTpI/s640/Photo%252520Jan%2525202%25252C%2525202014%25252C%2525203%25253A08%252520PM.jpg" target="_blank" style=""><img src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-vTbFD45gPSk/UsmmMO3ZQLI/AAAAAAAABxo/syBc7KlWTpI/s500/Photo%252520Jan%2525202%25252C%2525202014%25252C%2525203%25253A08%252520PM.jpg" id="blogsy-1388947073031.7583" class="alignnone" alt="" width="288" height="384"></a></div>
<p> And the verdict is...HOLY SHIT THAT'S SPICY!</p>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: none;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-B8oiDA6mvYo/UsmmNBxpW4I/AAAAAAAABxw/ZQOG7V-mNIA/s640/Photo%252520Jan%2525202%25252C%2525202014%25252C%2525203%25253A08%252520PM.jpg" target="_blank" style=""><img src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-B8oiDA6mvYo/UsmmNBxpW4I/AAAAAAAABxw/ZQOG7V-mNIA/s500/Photo%252520Jan%2525202%25252C%2525202014%25252C%2525203%25253A08%252520PM.jpg" id="blogsy-1388947073078.5454" class="alignnone" alt="" width="288" height="384"></a></div>
<p> Oh yeah...hot pepper...Damn. It was not expecting that at all. It really wasn't bad, per se...just...that was a <em>lot</em> of ginger and hot pepper and I was drinking it. I did manage to drink about a cup of it before it was just too spicy to continue. The taste definitely grew on me, but I froze the rest in an ice cube tray and plan to use it a cube or two at a time, diluted and (heavily) honeyed, during my cycle.</p>
<p>Back to the dehydrator! It ran for about 20 hours. Here is the end result:</p>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: none;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilIvH8-WiGJIn0RPpWI53wPQVv192UfIrX-2U6Dao_l0uBIrAXDtGXQDUAb7hAr-1He38iVmhcFrTrytpqCxe7o2Ji0iow14al0Z_k56vrzjtzEIOpifwzxtPsZkedk3XSpb8RsL2FB2M/s1024/Photo%252520Jan%2525203%25252C%2525202014%25252C%25252012%25253A38%252520PM.jpg" target="_blank" style=""><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilIvH8-WiGJIn0RPpWI53wPQVv192UfIrX-2U6Dao_l0uBIrAXDtGXQDUAb7hAr-1He38iVmhcFrTrytpqCxe7o2Ji0iow14al0Z_k56vrzjtzEIOpifwzxtPsZkedk3XSpb8RsL2FB2M/s500/Photo%252520Jan%2525203%25252C%2525202014%25252C%25252012%25253A38%252520PM.jpg" id="blogsy-1388947073072.6182" class="alignnone" alt="" width="300" height="386"></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: right;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4E0Iw4nRBZyxaNoRQ4z60n6A_-HNKfopavv0Rjonsd8BWV1omjMrLeHhNQlwO_BIel_m8Rg0ZvlLqqBccwnOPe2p_DM_Y5yoVnbbkrtzUemEug81245MU0yHsK9u8cPxZMmckR7ixwFU/s1024/Photo%252520Jan%2525203%25252C%2525202014%25252C%2525201%25253A45%252520PM.jpg" target="_blank" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4E0Iw4nRBZyxaNoRQ4z60n6A_-HNKfopavv0Rjonsd8BWV1omjMrLeHhNQlwO_BIel_m8Rg0ZvlLqqBccwnOPe2p_DM_Y5yoVnbbkrtzUemEug81245MU0yHsK9u8cPxZMmckR7ixwFU/s500/Photo%252520Jan%2525203%25252C%2525202014%25252C%2525201%25253A45%252520PM.jpg" id="blogsy-1388947073115.7034" class="alignright" alt="" width="209" height="258"></a></div>
<p> <span style="line-height: 1.3em;">A cord dehydrated fresh will be more of a tan translucent color after dehydrating. You can see the blood vessels better in a more translucent cord, but this one is really beautiful if you hold it up to the light.</span></p>
<p><span style="line-height: 1.3em;">After dehydrating, I put the dried placenta into a blender. It made a great deal of noise. And powder flies out like crazy. I would recommend putting a piece of parchment paper or Saran Wrap under the lid of the blender to keep the dust to a minimum, since I am pretty sure no one wants to breathe powdered placenta.</span><br>
</p>
<p>It turned out like this:</p>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: none;"><a href="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-hZPTx2cO3oA/UsmmUzlpA_I/AAAAAAAAByg/zauflEjyrJc/s1024/Photo%252520Jan%2525203%25252C%2525202014%25252C%25252012%25253A49%252520PM.jpg" target="_blank" style=""><img src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-hZPTx2cO3oA/UsmmUzlpA_I/AAAAAAAAByg/zauflEjyrJc/s500/Photo%252520Jan%2525203%25252C%2525202014%25252C%25252012%25253A49%252520PM.jpg" id="blogsy-1388947073056.2185" class="alignnone" alt="" width="300" height="372"></a></div>
<p> I loaded the capsule filler:</p>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: none;"><a href="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-kNN0H2yh9SU/UsmmWEMKRdI/AAAAAAAAByo/m8RJ7ovhvVo/s1024/Photo%252520Jan%2525203%25252C%2525202014%25252C%25252012%25253A51%252520PM.jpg" target="_blank" style=""><img src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-kNN0H2yh9SU/UsmmWEMKRdI/AAAAAAAAByo/m8RJ7ovhvVo/s500/Photo%252520Jan%2525203%25252C%2525202014%25252C%25252012%25253A51%252520PM.jpg" id="blogsy-1388947073068.6296" class="alignnone" alt="" width="300" height="391"></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: none;">Scooped a heaping tablespoon of powder in:</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: none;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4SC8PuenrNCZD1YE2i3MsHXJyYOIf6rmFw7wHYKc0l-hDl2aBbYYKqeG__X_gSIYmhdprkrrIvthG3_dPZ0sOWrpjIn0RVcigyfiX2rq2ws8FaRcpbF2lrl3Wq6LAy9819f-oXvHUDpQ/s1024/Photo%252520Jan%2525203%25252C%2525202014%25252C%25252012%25253A53%252520PM.jpg" target="_blank" style=""><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4SC8PuenrNCZD1YE2i3MsHXJyYOIf6rmFw7wHYKc0l-hDl2aBbYYKqeG__X_gSIYmhdprkrrIvthG3_dPZ0sOWrpjIn0RVcigyfiX2rq2ws8FaRcpbF2lrl3Wq6LAy9819f-oXvHUDpQ/s500/Photo%252520Jan%2525203%25252C%2525202014%25252C%25252012%25253A53%252520PM.jpg" id="blogsy-1388947073075.0764" class="alignnone" alt="" width="300" height="392"></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: none;">Filled and tamped down the capsules:</div>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: none;">Put the tops on:</div>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: none;">And ejected the capsules into the waiting bin:</div>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: none;">Malcolm's placenta yielded 73 capsules, which is a pretty skimpy number. Lucy's made 108, also a pretty small-ish number, though more in the range of average. <span style="line-height: 1.3em;">I'm wondering if TCM preparation reduces the yield of capsules, since they were both pretty similar in size to begin with. The other TCM prepared placenta I did only yielded 86 capsules...though that may have had something to do with the fact that I boiled it to within an inch of its life. Or perhaps past an inch of its life. It was bad. At least I wasn't charging her for it.</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: none;"><span style="line-height: 1.3em;">See? Nothing gross about this!</span></div>
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<p>I wish I had separated the raw from the TCM capsules, but I just went on autopilot and they all ended up in the same bin. I popped two of these suckers today, just to see what (if any) effect there would be. I felt a definite mood boost, though no difference in energy. The placenta broth/tea gave me a burst of energy.</p>
<p> So now I have two cord keepsakes...and what does one do with dried umbilical cords? Lucy really wants to keep hers, and I am inclined to let her. It <em>is </em>her cord, after all. Malcolm could care less, I'm sure. Maybe a shadow box? They are actually really pretty. Especially, I imagine, if you don't really know what they are.</p>
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<p> </p><div style="text-align: right; font-size: small; clear: both;" id="blogsy_footer"><a href="http://blogsyapp.com" target="_blank"><img src="http://blogsyapp.com/images/blogsy_footer_icon.png" alt="Posted with Blogsy" style="vertical-align: middle; margin-right: 5px;" width="20" height="20" />Posted with Blogsy</a></div>Jennyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01276906940707994369noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7987801588433165683.post-57594243844797154362013-12-30T13:41:00.001-05:002013-12-30T14:24:32.314-05:00Mama, I'm Peeing in the Woods!<p> We walk in parks a lot, Malcolm, Lucy and I. As with any outing involving children who are still skating the line between rational and subrational, it occasionally means an emergency bathroom break in the bushes (even though she "didn't EVER have to go, Mama!" or an impromptu diaper change on a log. Sometimes it goes smoothly. Sometimes it does not.</p>
<p>We were walking the path by the Trader Joe's at the Burnt Mills shopping center. This path is part<span style="line-height: 1.3em;"> of the other path we often take (and site of the infamous SYSC incident of yore). It is a very, very short jaunt down a rocky hill to a waterfall. Perfect for two grumpy kids who need some outside time throwing rocks at something other than each other. I underestimated both their willingness to walk down a hill and Lucy's ability to gauge the contents of her bladder.</span></p>
<p><span style="line-height: 1.3em;">At the top of this hill, there is a short, raised wooden boardwalk that serves no discernible purpose. Malcolm discovered it. It is to run back and forth across while stomping loudly and yelling "HULK RUN!" with an adorable toddler accent. Good stuff for 2 year old boys, no doubt, but Lucy was not interested. After 10 minutes (which is apparently an unreasonably short amount of time for unbridled board-stomping), I gathered Boy Hulk</span><span style="line-height: 1.3em;"> and carried him, screaming and frothing at the mouth, down the short but rocky hill. I was sure he'd come around to my point of view when he saw there were ROCKS and he was allowed to THROW THEM. </span></p>
<p>At the bottom of the hill, there is a nice little sandy beach area, a deep-ish pool and a lovely trickling waterfall. Malcolm stomped into the water and promptly regretted it. He quickly settled into happily tossing rock after rock into the water. Lucy sat demurely by the edge and declared she was a mermaid.</p>
<p>Lucy: I'm a mermaid, Mama. My name is...All..ee..an...driana...lana. Malcolm is my brother. We are going to get married.</p>
<p>Me: ...oh...how Game of Thrones-y of you.</p>
<p>Lucy: umm...okay. What was that name I said again? OH NO, MAMA! I have to PEE!</p>
<p>Okay, no biggie. We've done this before. She's pooped in the woods, had diapers changed in the woods, peed in the woods, nursed in the woods, eaten crickets in the woods. We've done it all. No big deal. But...she's wearing overalls. Okay, not the end of the world. But it is October and pretty chilly and Lucy tends to pee on her underwear when she's voiding like a gatherer, so this may mean full-on butt to ankles nudity. And Lucy is one of those kids who loves being naked, so just give her a reason and she'll strip down to her birthday suit in a nanosecond. We have not done this in the woods.</p>
<p>Me: Okay, no big deal, Lucy come away from the water and I'll help you. </p>
<p>I took off her coat, I helped her out of her overalls. She took off her undies ("In case so I don't pee on them, Mama. It's cold out and I don't want wet undies."). At this point a mom and her tweenage daughter walked by. The daughter averted her eyes embarrassed, the mom gave me an "I've been there look" and they walked on without comment. </p>
<p>Lucy squatted down, and at the last second she decided she really needed to take this opportunity to witness the pee leaving her body. She hung her head down to watch, and all her lovely hair fell down like a curtain, practically touching the ground. It was directly in the line of fire when a stream of urine came powering out of her like a geyser. She shouted in alarm as it soaked her hair. I shouted in alarm as I felt the surprisingly forceful stream of fluid soak my foot and then jump over to my leg as Lucy struggled to maintain her balance after the initial attack. This pee was EPIC. It went on for a good 20 seconds at fire-hose-velocity. It soaked my shoe and my entire leg from my knee to my ankle. Lucy's hair was dripping with pee.</p>
<p>Lucy (as the pee is streaming forth at relativistic speeds): WOW! My vagina is really pushing out a lot of pee!</p>
<p>Me: Your vagina doesn't actually have anything to do with your pee, sweetie. You pee comes out of your bladder through your urethra.</p>
<p>Lucy: My vagina is TELLING my pee to go out so fast.</p>
<p>Me: Well, that's one smart vagina, then.</p>
<p>Lucy: Nah. It's pretty lazy. </p>
<p>Me: **snarf**</p>
<p>Lucy: It just lays around all day.</p>
<p> Oh. My. God. I love this kid.</p>
<p> </p><div style="text-align: right; font-size: small; clear: both;" id="blogsy_footer"><a href="http://blogsyapp.com" target="_blank"><img src="http://blogsyapp.com/images/blogsy_footer_icon.png" alt="Posted with Blogsy" style="vertical-align: middle; margin-right: 5px;" width="20" height="20" />Posted with Blogsy</a></div>Jennyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01276906940707994369noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7987801588433165683.post-16657291027600191212013-10-22T14:47:00.001-04:002013-10-22T23:19:05.040-04:00A Walk in The Park"A walk in the park" implies something is easy, right? Heh. <br />
So I took my kids on a walk in the park. We live near Northwest Branch, which is acres and acres of undeveloped parkland on the northwest branch (duh) of the Anacostia River. There are trails leading down to the creek, a five minute walk from our house. We take this trail at least once a week. It's a steep trail towards the end, but they literally walk it ALL THE TIME. So I had no reason to believe this day would be different.<br />
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We start off running happily to the woods. We walk down the trail with gleeful abandon, enjoying the beautiful fall weather. We throw rocks.<br />
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We eat snacks. <br />
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Some of us eat dirt, but we are all happy, so whatever.<br />
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Lucy dunks her feet in the water. I say "Oh, Lucy the water is cold - take your feet out!" She says, with an air of genuine confusion "Ummm...these are my shoes..." Okay yes. But there ARE feet in them, yes? But I don't push it. If she wants cold wet feet walking home, it's a great learning experience. I'm all about natural consequences.<br />
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Then we all want water. No problem! Mama is prepared! I brought my water bottle, Malcolm's water bottle and a yellow sippy cup because I couldn't find Lucy's water bottle. <br />
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That stupid stupid yellow sippy cup.<br />
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Malcolm doesn't want his water bottle. He wants the stupid yellow sippy cup. Lucy, being four and exceptionally good at it, will not share. Fine. It <em>is</em> her stupid yellow sippy cup today, even though she could easily have used the water bottle instead of the stupid yellow sippy cup. But a girl has to stand on principle when it comes to these things or next thing you know your little brother wants to use your toys and we can't have THAT happen, now can we? Generally she doesn't use them at all, and this is usually Malcolm's stupid yellow sippy cup...so you see the problem. <br />
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Then, Lucy suddenly declares she's done with the stupid yellow sippy cup. So I offer it to Malcolm. She snatches it away.<br />
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Lucy: No! He can't have it!<br />
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Me: Why? I can refill it with the water from my bottle.<br />
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Lucy: I don't want your water, Mama. I want MINE. AND I WANT IT NOT IN MALCOLM.<br />
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Sooo...I distract! Rocks! Throw rocks! Yay! Throwing things is fun! This works for a bit, but Lucy is too smart for phyllising* anymore and Malcolm is amazingly singleminded for a two year old. He decides he's fed up, and takes off.<br />
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I barely have time to gather our snack and strong-arm Lucy into following me before he's out of sight. Next to a 20 foot drop off into rocky, running water. They start running down the path. Crisis averted...?<br />
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Fat chance. Mal wants up the hill, Lucy wants the trail. And a piggyback. And then Mal suddenly wants water again. From the stupid yellow sippy cup. And now Malcolm won't walk anymore because HE WANTS SOME DAMN WATER FROM A DAMN STUPID YELLOW SIPPY CUP, ALREADY. </div>
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Now I try reasoning with Lucy. </div>
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Me: Lucy, I can't leave Malcolm behind, and he won't walk because he's upset about the damn stupid yellow sippy cup**. I have to carry him. I can't carry both of you. </div>
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Lucy: YOU HAVE TO! I want a piggyback! I'm too tired to walk anymore! Put Malcolm down NOW!</div>
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Me: I have to carry Malcolm. If you want me to give you a piggyback, you have to share the stupid yellow sippy cup with Mal.</div>
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Lucy: NNNNOOOOOOoooooooooooOooOoOoOoOoOooooooo! Just carry me! You have to do it!</div>
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Circular discussion ensues. Malcolm continues wailing my my ear.</div>
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I put Malcolm down because now he's struggling to get out of my arms and tackle Lucy for the SYSC***. I power on up the hill, hoping they'll shut up for 10 seconds and follow me, which they do, but not happily. This is my view during that walk up the hill.</div>
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I periodically stop and try to reason with Lucy. She periodically cries about how scared she is to climb the hill she climbed 48 hours earlier without a second thought. Malcolm periodically throws himself down in despair of ever getting to drink water again (even though there are about 40oz of water between my bottle and his, happily waiting for his muddy little mouth to swill them down). Lucy is holding my legs and crying, stomping ahead wailing, yelling at me for a piggyback ride because she's too tired. Finally, I lose it. I grab her arm and pull her back and shout "Just LISTEN TO ME!" in a final fruitless effort to get her to understand that if she just shares the SYSC with Malcolm, he'd be happy and I could give her a piggyback. I realize this wasn't the fairest solution to the issue, (perhaps Malcolm could just drink some water out of another vessel) but Malcolm is two and not real big on rational thought. So being flexible on a <strong>REFILLABLE</strong> STUPID YELLOW SIPPY CUP THAT YOU DON'T EVEN WANT ANYMORE might be an easy way to get what you want. This doesn't go down well with Lucy. Not only am I yelling (so much for a peaceful walk in the woods), but I caused her to trip and fall over when I grabbed her arm. I'm the best mom ever.</div>
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So what's a mom to do? It's lunch time. Everyone <em>clearly </em>needs a nap. We are about a mile from home, with at least 1/4 of it uphill, through the woods. No one but me appears able or willing to propel themselves forward under their own power. So I pick up Malcolm and run him up the hill 20 or 30 yards. I put him down, run back and get Lucy and do the same <span style="line-height: 1.3em;">thing. Malcolm. Lucy. Malcolm. Lucy. 30 lbs. 45 lbs. 30 lbs. 45 lbs. Uphill. Downhill. </span></div>
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That stupid stupid stupid yellow sippy cup.****</div>
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<span style="line-height: 1.3em;">When Malcolm sees the jogger I had left at the top of the hill, he runs excitedly up to it. I pick Lucy up one last leaden time and dump her in the stroller. Malcolm, of </span><span style="line-height: 1.3em;">course, can't be bothered with riding and wants to run home. Or halfway home. When he stops, sits down, and takes his shoes and socks off motivated by some weird toddler inner need to periodically remove footwear at inappropriate </span><span style="line-height: 1.3em;">times. Let me remind you that it is barely 60 degrees out, and the sidewalk is covered with crushed acorns from the neighborhood's overzealous, littering bastard squirrel population.</span><br />
<span style="line-height: 1.3em;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="line-height: 1.3em;">Now my jogger is actually a converted bike trailer. So there is a longish metal support that sticks out from the stroller and curves forward to hold the front wheels (or attach to the bike). Malcolm wants </span><span style="line-height: 1.3em;">to ride on the support, not in the stroller. This is a bad idea on many levels, especially barefoot. But he won't be dissuaded. I try a few things but quickly discover that I literally cannot go anywhere. I can't push the stroller and carry Malcolm in my arms because that's like carrying a crocodile as it is trying to roll you. I can't drag the stroller behind me and tilt the front wheel off the ground (to discourage Mal from copping a squat over the support rail) because he grabs the rail and throws himself down on it. I can't put him in the stroller because Lucy won't move over and make room for him, and besides the SYSC that started this whole sorry state of affairs is still firmly clamped in her unyielding little fist.</span><br />
<br />
So I stopped, parked the stroller on the grass and laid down on the sidewalk. <br />
<br />
Me: I give up.<br />
<br />
Malcolm: MAMA! (He runs over and dives on top of me and gives me a hug).<br />
<br />
Lucy: Why'd you give up, Mama?<br />
<br />
Me: I'm just...a terrible mom..<br />
<br />
Lucy: No. No, no, no! You're a great mom!<br />
<br />
Sigh. Tears.<br />
<br />
Being a mom is a walk in the park.<br />
<br />
__________________________________________________________________<br />
*Phyllising: the act of distracting or drawing a small child's attention away from or towards a particular activity or train of thought, as masterfully practiced by by my mother, Phyllis. It can also be used on adults, though it must be much more subtle than "Stop doing that, let's throw rocks!"<br />
<span style="line-height: 1.3em;">**I didn't actually say this to Lucy. </span><br />
<span style="line-height: 1.3em;">***I'm tired of typing it out. But it deserves its full honorific.</span><br />
****I'm blaming the stupid yellow sippy cup here, but I think perhaps my parenting skills can be called into question.<br />
<br />
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Jennyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01276906940707994369noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7987801588433165683.post-51580550931123086652013-09-20T13:36:00.001-04:002013-09-20T13:36:32.483-04:00Necklaces<p>Lucy started at Crossway Community Montessori Public Charter School on August 26. There have 18 school days so far. Every single day, she has brought home one (or more) of these beaded necklaces. She made one for me, one for Malcolm, one for Daddy, one for Gramma, one for Granddaddy, one for Nana, one for Papa, one for Monica, one more of each of us, and several for herself. How many days in the school year are there...? I'm not sure I know what to do with 180 beaded necklaces?.</p>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: none;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZmQPGdGK02EW8n4XrOZphsCZ2tCgxmZjBOGQNrukBQCP-qKQeAX76f7t8nLoGh0Gk8hyphenhyphen4WxLVtf90e37u6KwIYbNlewe6_jEQ4JPW2x3JpyynTj1Z9u1OdaQ5S3v2-5fgAKrWQ-Zeq0k/s1024/Photo%252520Sep%25252020%25252C%2525202013%25252C%2525201%25253A32%252520PM.jpg" target="_blank" style=""><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZmQPGdGK02EW8n4XrOZphsCZ2tCgxmZjBOGQNrukBQCP-qKQeAX76f7t8nLoGh0Gk8hyphenhyphen4WxLVtf90e37u6KwIYbNlewe6_jEQ4JPW2x3JpyynTj1Z9u1OdaQ5S3v2-5fgAKrWQ-Zeq0k/s500/Photo%252520Sep%25252020%25252C%2525202013%25252C%2525201%25253A32%252520PM.jpg" id="blogsy-1379698591979.809" class="alignnone" width="500" height="500" alt=""></a></div>
<p> </p><div style="text-align: right; font-size: small; clear: both;" id="blogsy_footer"><a href="http://blogsyapp.com" target="_blank"><img src="http://blogsyapp.com/images/blogsy_footer_icon.png" alt="Posted with Blogsy" style="vertical-align: middle; margin-right: 5px;" width="20" height="20" />Posted with Blogsy</a></div>Jennyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01276906940707994369noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7987801588433165683.post-61276425970968558262013-07-08T14:02:00.001-04:002013-07-08T14:02:22.157-04:00A Day Out with Malcolm<p> Kevin took Lucy to see Despicable Me 2 today. Malcolm and I had already had an altercation this morning that resulted in me having a fat lip. He was whiny and clingy and I had no desire to spend three hours at home with him. So we tagged along with the bigs kids to downtown Silver Spring. I decided not to try to sit through the movie with him, so here is the adventure that followed.</p>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: none;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4pGkVTHcdoG3_26Y3gZfK-9ZiIvMLwHf7qvEjYKTZE3TDEHWC3PtVn8WAbwGHLYQSzbv5T-9POSy2cCA7OeYJ4cI_HIRZ1YeaFy2QxXHIhmt6rTfEhqBiBG_kQGsC_8iNWDBkRgb3Nf0/s1024/Photo%252520Jul%2525208%25252C%2525202013%25252C%25252010%25253A57%252520AM.jpg" target="_blank" style=""><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4pGkVTHcdoG3_26Y3gZfK-9ZiIvMLwHf7qvEjYKTZE3TDEHWC3PtVn8WAbwGHLYQSzbv5T-9POSy2cCA7OeYJ4cI_HIRZ1YeaFy2QxXHIhmt6rTfEhqBiBG_kQGsC_8iNWDBkRgb3Nf0/s500/Photo%252520Jul%2525208%25252C%2525202013%25252C%25252010%25253A57%252520AM.jpg" id="blogsy-1373306542029.0034" class="alignnone" alt="" width="500" height="669"></a></div>
<p> Contemplating the fountain. </p>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: none;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUEPpwqSx2VlYNauJXLePrquHzuolWIzfiOqG82oCIvcDv95XgYJlREUVroZP9l5W05w5obAh1eyWJGBOvQ5VREGf5zju67Ds_AfPqcE2jARUIgzccmTxpuk4bTmT_DhR-an4pM2ySbIk/s1024/Photo%252520Jul%2525208%25252C%2525202013%25252C%25252011%25253A05%252520AM.jpg" target="_blank" style=""><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUEPpwqSx2VlYNauJXLePrquHzuolWIzfiOqG82oCIvcDv95XgYJlREUVroZP9l5W05w5obAh1eyWJGBOvQ5VREGf5zju67Ds_AfPqcE2jARUIgzccmTxpuk4bTmT_DhR-an4pM2ySbIk/s500/Photo%252520Jul%2525208%25252C%2525202013%25252C%25252011%25253A05%252520AM.jpg" id="blogsy-1373306542107.634" class="alignnone" alt="" width="500" height="669"></a></div>
<p> Running away from the fountain. </p>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: none;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-6DNXtM0_Qzo/Udr-X7o1Y_I/AAAAAAAABjY/6tBQY0kjmr0/s1024/Photo%252520Jul%2525208%25252C%2525202013%25252C%25252011%25253A05%252520AM.jpg" target="_blank" style=""><img src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-6DNXtM0_Qzo/Udr-X7o1Y_I/AAAAAAAABjY/6tBQY0kjmr0/s500/Photo%252520Jul%2525208%25252C%2525202013%25252C%25252011%25253A05%252520AM.jpg" id="blogsy-1373306542065.0762" class="alignnone" alt="" width="500" height="669"></a></div>
<p> Riding the elevator up...</p>
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<p> Taking the stairs down. Repeat 43 times. </p>
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<p> Testing the waters</p>
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<p> </p>
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<p> Spitting milk all over the glass.</p>
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<p> Spitting milk all over Mama's phone, trying to steal Mama's phone.</p>
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<p> Running away from me.</p>
<p> <a href="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-Mlef3C1lVl0/Udr-knJcF-I/AAAAAAAABkw/tH4OeYOjsfU/s1024/Photo%252520Jul%2525208%25252C%2525202013%25252C%25252011%25253A41%252520AM.jpg" target="_blank"><img src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-Mlef3C1lVl0/Udr-knJcF-I/AAAAAAAABkw/tH4OeYOjsfU/s500/Photo%252520Jul%2525208%25252C%2525202013%25252C%25252011%25253A41%252520AM.jpg" id="blogsy-1373306542080.9282" class="alignnone" alt="" width="500" height="669"></a></p>
<p> Seriously contemplating grand theft auto.</p>
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<p> Not terribly sure of the Metro.</p>
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<p> 7-11 picnic at Takoma Station.</p>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: none;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-BZV81fBUyd0/Udr-oSdvM4I/AAAAAAAABlI/FACKM1TbLco/s1024/Photo%252520Jul%2525208%25252C%2525202013%25252C%25252012%25253A33%252520PM.jpg" target="_blank" style=""><img src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-BZV81fBUyd0/Udr-oSdvM4I/AAAAAAAABlI/FACKM1TbLco/s500/Photo%252520Jul%2525208%25252C%2525202013%25252C%25252012%25253A33%252520PM.jpg" id="blogsy-1373306542039.0647" class="alignnone" alt="" width="500" height="669"></a></div>
<p> Bus-watching at Takoma Station.</p>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: none;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnrTHLYvqhR6l4Kp3af585LBo9lz1ySBPHa5Rje0MHki4jSwc9JImKo7JVsIyDs7cPdFs1TYzztPdraAJpfxKIEROjXBbRRbei1YTJQDvZ5iKqW1QiKXNlFFOdPIuhKV4arYXKqTD2Ros/s1024/Photo%252520Jul%2525208%25252C%2525202013%25252C%25252012%25253A42%252520PM.jpg" target="_blank" style=""><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnrTHLYvqhR6l4Kp3af585LBo9lz1ySBPHa5Rje0MHki4jSwc9JImKo7JVsIyDs7cPdFs1TYzztPdraAJpfxKIEROjXBbRRbei1YTJQDvZ5iKqW1QiKXNlFFOdPIuhKV4arYXKqTD2Ros/s500/Photo%252520Jul%2525208%25252C%2525202013%25252C%25252012%25253A42%252520PM.jpg" id="blogsy-1373306542069.087" class="alignnone" alt="" width="500" height="669"></a></div>
<p> Practicing civil disobedience. Protesting the unfair "Hold My Hand or Be Carried" laws.</p>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: none;"><a href="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-ZmCjIl44veY/Udr-q9HXEEI/AAAAAAAABlY/rP9HQ0QiLYo/s1024/Photo%252520Jul%2525208%25252C%2525202013%25252C%2525201%25253A06%252520PM.jpg" target="_blank" style=""><img src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-ZmCjIl44veY/Udr-q9HXEEI/AAAAAAAABlY/rP9HQ0QiLYo/s500/Photo%252520Jul%2525208%25252C%2525202013%25252C%2525201%25253A06%252520PM.jpg" id="blogsy-1373306542106.8555" class="alignnone" width="500" height="669" alt=""></a></div>
<p> Meeting up with Daddy and Lucy. </p>
<p>NAP TIME FOR ALL!</p>
<p> </p><div style="text-align: right; font-size: small; clear: both;" id="blogsy_footer"><a href="http://blogsyapp.com" target="_blank"><img src="http://blogsyapp.com/images/blogsy_footer_icon.png" alt="Posted with Blogsy" style="vertical-align: middle; margin-right: 5px;" width="20" height="20" />Posted with Blogsy</a></div>Jennyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01276906940707994369noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7987801588433165683.post-76445938749930722272013-06-02T14:15:00.001-04:002013-06-02T14:20:30.924-04:00Yoga with Lucy<p> To complement my running workout, I am trying to do more yoga at home. Getting to a class these days more than impossible, so I'm doing 30 minutes of yoga 3-4 times a week (yoga series courtesy of the awesome Lara Alexiou). However, more often than not my yoga time is shared with Lucy. Lucy enjoys yoga to a certain extent. But her real passion is to make up her own poses and sit on me while I do mine. Here is my 30 minute yoga routine, as practiced this morning with Lucy.</p>
<p><strong><font size="5">Pranayama Deep Breathing (one set of 10 breaths)</font></strong></p>
<p><strong> Lucy: </strong>Mama, I don't want you to take deep breaths. That sounds too funny. Your breath is stinky. Your breath is stinky! YOUR BREATH IS TOO STINKY TO BREATHE LIKE THAT!</p>
<p><strong><font size="5">Sun Salutations (10-15 minutes)</font></strong></p>
<p><strong>Lucy: </strong>I'll be under you!</p>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: right;"><a href="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-XVi_29qHG10/UauLrlNflaI/AAAAAAAABiA/QRA7hBGV5-8/s1024/Photo%252520Jun%2525202%25252C%2525202013%25252C%2525209%25253A43%252520AM.jpg" target="_blank" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-XVi_29qHG10/UauLrlNflaI/AAAAAAAABiA/QRA7hBGV5-8/s300/Photo%252520Jun%2525202%25252C%2525202013%25252C%2525209%25253A43%252520AM.jpg" id="blogsy-1370197151569.2786" class="alignright" alt="" width="300" height="402"><strong><br>
</strong></a><div style="text-align: left;"><strong>Me</strong>: Watch out, I'm going to jump back.</div>
</div><p><strong>Lucy</strong>: I'm a puppy and you're the mama puppy</p>
<p><strong>Me</strong>: I need to lay down now. Lucy, Chadaranga is really hard. Please get off my back.</p>
<p><strong>Lucy</strong>: can I sit on you while you're a dog? Don't forget to bark! I can do the snake "SSSSSSSSSS". Are you done now?</p>
<p><strong><font size="5">Eagle Pose (2 sets)</font></strong></p>
<p><strong>Me: </strong>Do you want to do this pose with me?</p>
<p><strong>Lucy</strong>: Oh, sure! <em>I show her how to get into it</em>. I DID IT! I DID IT!</p>
<p><strong><font size="5">Standing Bow (2 set)</font></strong></p>
<p><strong>Lucy: </strong>How many times long do you do that one?</p>
<p><strong>Me:</strong> 1 minute on each side. I really have to concentrate. Do you want to try it with me?</p>
<p><strong>Lucy: </strong>Sure! <em>She tries, falls out after 2 seconds</em>. I can't do that one. Mama. Mama. Mama. Mama. Mama. Are you done? Why do you have to concentricate so much? Mama. Mama. Mama. Mama. Mama. </p>
<p><font size="5"><strong> Separate Leg Stretching (2 sets)</strong></font></p>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-eKOyXAsquqo/UauLs7Uz2JI/AAAAAAAABiI/Xqon8OQUYts/s1024/Photo%252520Jun%2525202%25252C%2525202013%25252C%2525209%25253A45%252520AM.jpg" target="_blank" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-eKOyXAsquqo/UauLs7Uz2JI/AAAAAAAABiI/Xqon8OQUYts/s300/Photo%252520Jun%2525202%25252C%2525202013%25252C%2525209%25253A45%252520AM.jpg" id="blogsy-1370197151544.0906" class="alignleft" alt="" width="300" height="401"></a></div>
<p><font size="4"><strong>Lucy:</strong> what's this one called?</font></p>
<p><font size="4"><strong>Me: </strong>Dandayamana Bibhaktapada Paschimottanasana.</font></p>
<p><font size="4"><strong>Lucy: </strong>Um...what's this one again?</font></p>
<p><font size="4"><em>I explain I'm stretching to try to put my forehead on the floor.</em></font></p>
<p><font size="4"><strong>Lucy: </strong>You're moving! You're almost there! <em>I am really not almost there.</em></font></p>
<p><font size="5"><strong>Fixed Firm (2 sets)</strong></font></p>
<p><font size="4"><strong>Lucy: </strong>Want to play tug-o-war? Here! Pull! </font></p>
<p><font size="4"><strong>Me: </strong><em>Pulling the ribbon as I back down into Supta Vajrasana. </em>You win.</font></p>
<p><font size="4"><strong>Lucy: </strong>Now YOU win. Mama. Play again. PLAY AGAIN! Wait. I can do this one. See? How many times long do you do this?</font></p>
<p><font size="4"><strong>Me: </strong>Just for a minute or so, until it is too uncomfortable to hold anymore.</font></p>
<p><font size="4"><strong>Lucy: </strong>I can't hold it anymore. I'm uncomfortable.</font></p>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlfuWxDMNHG95NQVKKbfhCZHLmMd0gIOr56C-sAzpns-PcBqnfDsvFoIQ5_iIkBcsUBJ5tsXwktLJQxHaXJmctgm-6GZceDKndwetGlWl2zkYCvYiActKjvZWAg336rO3w6PZR2FxX-Q4/s1024/Photo%252520Jun%2525202%25252C%2525202013%25252C%25252012%25253A44%252520PM.jpg" target="_blank" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlfuWxDMNHG95NQVKKbfhCZHLmMd0gIOr56C-sAzpns-PcBqnfDsvFoIQ5_iIkBcsUBJ5tsXwktLJQxHaXJmctgm-6GZceDKndwetGlWl2zkYCvYiActKjvZWAg336rO3w6PZR2FxX-Q4/s300/Photo%252520Jun%2525202%25252C%2525202013%25252C%25252012%25253A44%252520PM.jpg" id="blogsy-1370197151576.7925" class="alignleft" alt="" width="300" height="224"></a></div>
<p><font size="5"><strong>Pigeon Pose (2 sets on each side)</strong></font></p>
<p><font size="4"><strong style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969); -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); ">Lucy:</strong><span style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969); -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); "> ...can I sit on you now?</span></font><font size="5"><strong><br>
</strong></font></p>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-v6dSQW2CB64/UauLwmgSasI/AAAAAAAABiY/p_UwUit9no4/s1024/Photo%252520Jun%2525202%25252C%2525202013%25252C%2525209%25253A42%252520AM.jpg" target="_blank" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-v6dSQW2CB64/UauLwmgSasI/AAAAAAAABiY/p_UwUit9no4/s300/Photo%252520Jun%2525202%25252C%2525202013%25252C%2525209%25253A42%252520AM.jpg" id="blogsy-1370197151555.625" class="alignleft" alt="" width="300" height="401"></a></div>
<p> </p>
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<p><strong style="font-size: x-large; ">Spine Twist</strong><br>
</p>
<p><font size="4"><strong>Me: </strong>Do you want to do a spine twist with me?</font></p>
<p><font size="4"><strong>Lucy: </strong>I can't twist my spine so much. Here, I'll do a twisty leg pose. It's not a fish pose. It's called "tellago".</font></p>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: none;"><a href="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-gI24Uor5-Og/UauLx65GDAI/AAAAAAAABig/-SdFfbw34cQ/s1024/Photo%252520Jun%2525202%25252C%2525202013%25252C%2525209%25253A42%252520AM.jpg" target="_blank" style=""><img src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-gI24Uor5-Og/UauLx65GDAI/AAAAAAAABig/-SdFfbw34cQ/s300/Photo%252520Jun%2525202%25252C%2525202013%25252C%2525209%25253A42%252520AM.jpg" id="blogsy-1370197151589.2185" class="alignnone" alt="" width="300" height="224"></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: none;"><a href="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-h0yIPVkALAE/UauLzA99P8I/AAAAAAAABio/yYf52nJydnQ/s1024/Photo%252520Jun%2525202%25252C%2525202013%25252C%2525209%25253A47%252520AM.jpg" target="_blank" style=""><img src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-h0yIPVkALAE/UauLzA99P8I/AAAAAAAABio/yYf52nJydnQ/s300/Photo%252520Jun%2525202%25252C%2525202013%25252C%2525209%25253A47%252520AM.jpg" id="blogsy-1370197151597.5054" class="alignnone" alt="" width="300" height="223"></a></div>
<p><strong style="font-size: x-large; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969); -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); ">Khapalbhati Breathing</strong></p>
<p><font size="4"><strong>Lucy:</strong> that's funny. Do it again.</font></p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p><div style="text-align: right; font-size: small; clear: both;" id="blogsy_footer"><a href="http://blogsyapp.com" target="_blank"><img src="http://blogsyapp.com/images/blogsy_footer_icon.png" alt="Posted with Blogsy" style="vertical-align: middle; margin-right: 5px;" width="20" height="20" />Posted with Blogsy</a></div>Jennyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01276906940707994369noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7987801588433165683.post-55645689455418739092013-06-02T14:04:00.001-04:002013-06-02T14:07:49.411-04:00Yoga with Lucy<p> To complement my running workout, I am trying to do more yoga at home. Getting to a class these days more than impossible, so I'm doing 30 minutes of yoga 3-4 times a week (yoga series courtesy of the awesome Lara Alexiou). However, more often than not my yoga time is shared with Lucy. Lucy enjoys yoga to a certain extent. But her real passion is to make up her own poses and sit on me while I do mine. Here is my 30 minute yoga routine, as practiced this morning with Lucy.</p>
<p><strong><font size="5">Pranayama Deep Breathing (one set of 10 breaths)</font></strong></p>
<p><strong> Lucy: </strong>Mama, I don't want you to take deep breaths. That sounds too funny. Your breath is stinky. Your breath is stinky! YOUR BREATH IS TOO STINKY TO BREATHE LIKE THAT!</p>
<p><strong><font size="5">Sun Salutations (10-15 minutes)</font></strong></p>
<p><strong>Lucy: </strong>I'll be under you!</p>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: right;"><a href="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-FAcSWfQ0vME/UauJEutyioI/AAAAAAAABhM/GehIgAGpU0E/s1024/Photo%252520Jun%2525202%25252C%2525202013%25252C%2525209%25253A43%252520AM.jpg" target="_blank" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-FAcSWfQ0vME/UauJEutyioI/AAAAAAAABhM/GehIgAGpU0E/s300/Photo%252520Jun%2525202%25252C%2525202013%25252C%2525209%25253A43%252520AM.jpg" id="blogsy-1370196460670.8655" class="alignright" alt="" width="300" height="402"></a></div>
<p><strong>Me</strong>: Watch out, I'm going to jump back.</p>
<p><strong>Lucy</strong>: I'm a puppy and you're the mama puppy</p>
<p><strong>Me</strong>: I need to lay down now. Lucy, Chadaranga is really hard. Please get off my back.</p>
<p><strong>Lucy</strong>: can I sit on you while you're a dog? Don't forget to bark! I can do the snake "SSSSSSSSSS". Are you done now?</p>
<p><strong><font size="5">Eagle Pose (2 sets)</font></strong></p>
<p><strong>Me: </strong>Do you want to do this pose with me?</p>
<p><strong>Lucy</strong>: Oh, sure! <em>I show her how to get into it</em>. I DID IT! I DID IT!</p>
<p><strong><font size="5">Standing Bow (2 set)</font></strong></p>
<p><strong>Lucy: </strong>How many times long do you do that one?</p>
<p><strong>Me:</strong> 1 minute on each side. I really have to concentrate. Do you want to try it with me?</p>
<p><strong>Lucy: </strong>Sure! <em>She tries, falls out after 2 seconds</em>. I can't do that one. Mama. Mama. Mama. Mama. Mama. Are you done? Why do you have to concentricate so much? Mama. Mama. Mama. Mama. Mama. </p>
<p><font size="5"><strong> Separate Leg Stretching (2 sets)</strong></font></p>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-AlFVNziz0eU/UauJGFUvSWI/AAAAAAAABhU/F0d1UI-mY40/s1024/Photo%252520Jun%2525202%25252C%2525202013%25252C%2525209%25253A45%252520AM.jpg" target="_blank" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-AlFVNziz0eU/UauJGFUvSWI/AAAAAAAABhU/F0d1UI-mY40/s300/Photo%252520Jun%2525202%25252C%2525202013%25252C%2525209%25253A45%252520AM.jpg" id="blogsy-1370196460686.2402" class="alignleft" alt="" width="300" height="401"></a></div>
<p><font size="4"><strong>Lucy:</strong> what's this one called?</font></p>
<p><font size="4"><strong>Me: </strong>Dandayamana Bibhaktapada Paschimottanasana.</font></p>
<p><font size="4"><strong>Lucy: </strong>Um...what's this one again?</font></p>
<p><font size="4"><em>I explain I'm stretching to try to put my forehead on the floor.</em></font></p>
<p><font size="4"><strong>Lucy: </strong>You're moving! You're almost there! <em>I am really not almost there.</em></font></p>
<p><font size="5"><strong>Fixed Firm (2 sets)</strong></font></p>
<p><font size="4"><strong>Lucy: </strong>Want to play tug-o-war? Here! Pull! </font></p>
<p><font size="4"><strong>Me: </strong><em>Pulling the ribbon as I back down into Supta Vajrasana. </em>You win.</font></p>
<p><font size="4"><strong>Lucy: </strong>Now YOU win. Mama. Play again. PLAY AGAIN! Wait. I can do this one. See? How many times long do you do this?</font></p>
<p><font size="4"><strong>Me: </strong>Just for a minute or so, until it is too uncomfortable to hold anymore.</font></p>
<p><font size="4"><strong>Lucy: </strong>I can't hold it anymore. I'm uncomfortable.</font></p>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-her1xdvGVd8/UauJHSvNxPI/AAAAAAAABhc/Wa6VtRk37JA/s1024/Photo%252520Jun%2525202%25252C%2525202013%25252C%25252012%25253A44%252520PM.jpg" target="_blank" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-her1xdvGVd8/UauJHSvNxPI/AAAAAAAABhc/Wa6VtRk37JA/s300/Photo%252520Jun%2525202%25252C%2525202013%25252C%25252012%25253A44%252520PM.jpg" id="blogsy-1370196460675.1765" class="alignleft" alt="" width="300" height="224"></a></div>
<p><font size="5"><strong>Pigeon Pose (2 sets on each side)</strong></font></p>
<p><strong style="font-size: large; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875); -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); ">Lucy:</strong><span style="font-size: large; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875); -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); "> ...can I sit on you now?</span><font size="5"><strong><br>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDq_R5a2KXiPlkr6b3og-x1Fn_hkonqmkSwAMNoFAZJyg70rKzmY_Ruf62OPg7W7OfkSBLCjP1hGWEk6CB7GVV2me_RvS7iIB2otKGheqXcMecZy9qRIMsdMPr3ueDaUFmB0nNRWvsoo8/s1024/Photo%252520Jun%2525202%25252C%2525202013%25252C%2525209%25253A42%252520AM.jpg" target="_blank" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDq_R5a2KXiPlkr6b3og-x1Fn_hkonqmkSwAMNoFAZJyg70rKzmY_Ruf62OPg7W7OfkSBLCjP1hGWEk6CB7GVV2me_RvS7iIB2otKGheqXcMecZy9qRIMsdMPr3ueDaUFmB0nNRWvsoo8/s300/Photo%252520Jun%2525202%25252C%2525202013%25252C%2525209%25253A42%252520AM.jpg" id="blogsy-1370196460718.3801" class="alignleft" alt="" width="300" height="402"></a></div>
<p> </p>
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<p><strong style="font-size: x-large; ">Spine Twist</strong><br>
</p>
<p><font size="4"><strong>Me: </strong>Do you want to do a spine twist with me?</font></p>
<p><font size="4"><strong>Lucy: </strong>I can't twist my spine so much. Here, I'll do a twisty leg pose. It's not a fish pose. It's called "tellago",</font></p>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: none;"><a href="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-QgAysuyNRwU/UauJJ_btKHI/AAAAAAAABhs/60w2SM8S0gw/s1024/Photo%252520Jun%2525202%25252C%2525202013%25252C%2525209%25253A42%252520AM.jpg" target="_blank" style=""><img src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-QgAysuyNRwU/UauJJ_btKHI/AAAAAAAABhs/60w2SM8S0gw/s300/Photo%252520Jun%2525202%25252C%2525202013%25252C%2525209%25253A42%252520AM.jpg" id="blogsy-1370196460671.3777" class="alignnone" alt="" width="300" height="224"></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: none;"><a href="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-UQowksEKdj0/UauJLa1I8SI/AAAAAAAABh0/tTKlLHFMwUM/s1024/Photo%252520Jun%2525202%25252C%2525202013%25252C%2525209%25253A47%252520AM.jpg" target="_blank" style=""><img src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-UQowksEKdj0/UauJLa1I8SI/AAAAAAAABh0/tTKlLHFMwUM/s300/Photo%252520Jun%2525202%25252C%2525202013%25252C%2525209%25253A47%252520AM.jpg" id="blogsy-1370196460687.2559" class="alignnone" alt="" width="300" height="223"></a></div>
<p><strong style="font-size: x-large; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969); -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); ">Khapalbhati Breathing</strong></p>
<p><strong style="font-size: large; ">Lucy:</strong><span style="font-size: large; "> that's funny. Do it again.</span></p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p><div style="text-align: right; font-size: small; clear: both;" id="blogsy_footer"><a href="http://blogsyapp.com" target="_blank"><img src="http://blogsyapp.com/images/blogsy_footer_icon.png" alt="Posted with Blogsy" style="vertical-align: middle; margin-right: 5px;" width="20" height="20" />Posted with Blogsy</a></div>Jennyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01276906940707994369noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7987801588433165683.post-84128808625139257972013-04-13T14:19:00.001-04:002013-04-13T14:19:49.098-04:00Brookside Gardens!<p> We took advantage of the lovely spring weather today and headed out to enjoy the spring flowers at Brookside Gardens. As per usual, Malcolm wanted to go everywhere he wasn't supposed to (into the mud, into the pond, on top of the geese). As per usual, Lucy panicked upon seeing the geese ("THEY WANT TO TAKE MY BACKPACK!"), made friends with everyone we saw ("Hi, my name is Lucy. Do you like that I have Dora and Boots on my backpack?"), and very nicely shared snack with Malcolm. Well, she willingly shared one goldfish cracker with Malcolm, but it is the thought that counts, right? </p>
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<p> </p>
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<p> </p>
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<p> </p>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: none;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-D_o97ClPH0Y/UWmhwrKX5dI/AAAAAAAABfg/O9mJAIOzK54/s1024/Photo%252520Apr%25252013%25252C%2525202013%25252C%25252011%25253A44%252520AM.jpg" target="_blank" style=""><img src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-D_o97ClPH0Y/UWmhwrKX5dI/AAAAAAAABfg/O9mJAIOzK54/s500/Photo%252520Apr%25252013%25252C%2525202013%25252C%25252011%25253A44%252520AM.jpg" id="blogsy-1365877187973.3406" class="alignnone" width="500" height="500" alt=""></a></div>
<p> </p><div style="text-align: right; font-size: small; clear: both;" id="blogsy_footer"><a href="http://blogsyapp.com" target="_blank"><img src="http://blogsyapp.com/images/blogsy_footer_icon.png" alt="Posted with Blogsy" style="vertical-align: middle; margin-right: 5px;" width="20" height="20" />Posted with Blogsy</a></div>Jennyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01276906940707994369noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7987801588433165683.post-74818889169403833182013-03-04T10:21:00.000-05:002013-03-04T10:21:00.854-05:00Maybe a Little Baby Drunk<p> Malcolm has been pretty sick for about two weeks. He's been on the BRAT diet, but pretty much will only eat pretzels and crackers. He can't have dairy or much in the way of fruit of his tummy just reacts in the grossest possible way. In an effort to get him to take some probiotics and sugar, I did as the pediatric nurse suggested and gave him some non-fruit juice (the fake-o gross stuff) mixed with probiotic powder. I discovered when I was sick with norovirus last week that he loves him some ginger ale (even fizzy) when he nicked my cup and downed half of it with a looked of shocked glee on his face. Here is what happened when I gave him fruit punch mixed with ginger ale and probiotic powder. I think he's a little sugar drunk. The only thing I missed videoing was the massive burps he was emitting every 5 minutes. </p>
<div class="separator" style="text-align: center;"><iframe title="YouTube video player" class="youtube-player" type="text/html" width="500" height="305" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/OYRCknyAxVc" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen=""></iframe></div>
<p> </p><div style="text-align: right; font-size: small; clear: both;" id="blogsy_footer"><a href="http://blogsyapp.com" target="_blank"><img src="http://blogsyapp.com/images/blogsy_footer_icon.png" alt="Posted with Blogsy" style="vertical-align: middle; margin-right: 5px;" width="20" height="20" />Posted with Blogsy</a></div>Jennyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01276906940707994369noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7987801588433165683.post-61668292165941445462013-03-03T10:20:00.001-05:002013-03-03T10:21:45.558-05:00Dinosaurs at the Burj Khalifa<p> Lucy and Kevin have been watching scenes from the Mission Impossible movies. I trust Kevin to choose age appropriate stuff...but I'm pretty sure I have the only three year old inAmerica talking about Ethan Hunt and the Burj Khalifa</p>
<p> </p>
<div class="separator" style="text-align: left;"><iframe title="YouTube video player" class="youtube-player" type="text/html" width="500" height="305" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/Y-_ecWta_AU" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen=""></iframe></div>
<p> </p><div style="text-align: right; font-size: small; clear: both;" id="blogsy_footer"><a href="http://blogsyapp.com" target="_blank"><img src="http://blogsyapp.com/images/blogsy_footer_icon.png" alt="Posted with Blogsy" style="vertical-align: middle; margin-right: 5px;" width="20" height="20" />Posted with Blogsy</a></div>Jennyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01276906940707994369noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7987801588433165683.post-73940286476347426032013-02-26T15:07:00.001-05:002013-02-26T15:07:58.212-05:00Outdoor Fun<p> Let's not comment on my lack of posts. Please just rejoice that I am not passed out from exhaustion right now. </p>
<p> </p>
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<p>We've been soaking up outdoor time in this weird warm winter we are having. Yesterday we went to MLK and Lucy found a shell by the pond. Malcolm tried to walk on the pond to see the geese and discovered that water is cold in February. He charged ahead fearlessly into the pond (I fought with him about it and the decided the worst thing that was going to happen would be that he would get wet. Which he did.), got both feet in, stopped and said "Hot." Wrong word, kiddo, but yes, an intense change in temperature for sure. He then hesitated, turned around and walked away. Apparently a foot bath was all he needed to be convinced that swimming In February is a bad idea.</p>
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<p>The walk back was loooong and Lucy wanted a piggyback because she was genuinely terrified of all the goose poop. Malcolm wanted to wander into the street and chase cars. I am more and more convinced that dogs and toddler boys are actually the same species.</p>
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<p> The rest of the afternoon we spent playing in the yard. Riding horses, making picnics from rocks and pinecones and other delectable local specialties, building an iguana out of bark and sticks and making a snowman out of pinecones. It was a good day.</p>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6eOL3wOMlTNoaTErBHuZ4UXK68JxfRh3H3j6C48vd5WJW89eCPzKN-6tOHhCzBdQgZSEY9Kfv_oCVs0d5Fn9iXgOlXWOcB8eMjYtjCfAdTQgrIhZV8OCcNeix8DiVddpWJwbXGMKCImw/s1024/Photo%252520Feb%25252026%25252C%2525202013%25252C%25252010%25253A51%252520AM.jpg" target="_blank" style=""><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6eOL3wOMlTNoaTErBHuZ4UXK68JxfRh3H3j6C48vd5WJW89eCPzKN-6tOHhCzBdQgZSEY9Kfv_oCVs0d5Fn9iXgOlXWOcB8eMjYtjCfAdTQgrIhZV8OCcNeix8DiVddpWJwbXGMKCImw/s500/Photo%252520Feb%25252026%25252C%2525202013%25252C%25252010%25253A51%252520AM.jpg" id="blogsy-1361909277653.4783" class="alignnone" alt="" width="307" height="411"></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bark Iguana</td></tr></tbody></table>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhb-O6vVLBZMhCydaMLxCCt2H0WadHkGxX7gm1vTVfxsv5oT1bQEcfyRpPO3ROORZogcIJU1pPcogzOaM0xO4fDdPanv52kJuwn9bGU6ENdgMwKhhodXP7WwO94jB-otInSTa88YhV63Wg/s1024/Photo%252520Feb%25252026%25252C%2525202013%25252C%25252010%25253A55%252520AM.jpg" target="_blank" style="clear: left; float: left; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhb-O6vVLBZMhCydaMLxCCt2H0WadHkGxX7gm1vTVfxsv5oT1bQEcfyRpPO3ROORZogcIJU1pPcogzOaM0xO4fDdPanv52kJuwn9bGU6ENdgMwKhhodXP7WwO94jB-otInSTa88YhV63Wg/s500/Photo%252520Feb%25252026%25252C%2525202013%25252C%25252010%25253A55%252520AM.jpg" id="blogsy-1361909277613.8823" class="alignleft" alt="" width="307" height="411"></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pinecone Man!</td></tr></tbody></table>
<p> </p>
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<p> </p><div style="text-align: right; font-size: small; clear: both;" id="blogsy_footer"><a href="http://blogsyapp.com" target="_blank"><img src="http://blogsyapp.com/images/blogsy_footer_icon.png" alt="Posted with Blogsy" style="vertical-align: middle; margin-right: 5px;" width="20" height="20" />Posted with Blogsy</a></div>Jennyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01276906940707994369noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7987801588433165683.post-47235049283456737152012-06-01T14:43:00.001-04:002012-06-01T14:43:42.023-04:00Updated Bug Spray RecipeI have been tinkering with my bug spray, since the first batch smelled a lot like citronella and that smell makes me a little woozy. This recipe is a little lighter and a little more fragrant.<br />
<br />
2 fluid oz of witch hazel with aloe vera<br />
a splash (roughly a tablespoon) of olive oil (or other skin-friendly of of your choice)<br />
35 drop of cedarwood oil<br />
25 drops of citronella oil<br />
15 drops of lemongrass oil<br />
15 drops of lavender oil<br />
15 drop of clove oil<br />
<br />
Yum!<br />
<br />
A friend asked if they could use baby oil and the answer is NO! Baby oil has fragrance added that will attract the bugs! Almond oil, jojoba oil, grapeseed oil, olive oil, etc. I am trying to figure out how to use coconut oil...Jennyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01276906940707994369noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7987801588433165683.post-77096159405119986392012-05-26T20:29:00.001-04:002012-05-26T20:29:59.247-04:00All Natural Bug Repellent<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2fnUMNmqcaddVafD7Ko3AOexjNccUfRkvkh_BZTiHQaY7zPy7awaSOPuCt3m19E8wVJ2eozWKJzcKLTglPavyCAJ0Kav6AJlsb-9dDYmcUYJqLjAmgQmg9OAJsgxxvccZmrsxtvv6T1U/s1600/cedarwood-essential-oil__25532_zoom.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2fnUMNmqcaddVafD7Ko3AOexjNccUfRkvkh_BZTiHQaY7zPy7awaSOPuCt3m19E8wVJ2eozWKJzcKLTglPavyCAJ0Kav6AJlsb-9dDYmcUYJqLjAmgQmg9OAJsgxxvccZmrsxtvv6T1U/s200/cedarwood-essential-oil__25532_zoom.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
Ah, tis the season. Sprinklers, water tables, wading pool, bugs and mosquitoes. Yum. I hate Off spray. First of all, it feels all chemical-y. This is because it IS all chemical-y. Secondly, if you spill it on hardwood floors, it stains for all eternity. So I started doing a little research on some all-natural bug repellents, me desire being to find one that packs a punch, but is also safe for my little rash monster, Malcolm. I went to my local Whole Foods Market, loaded up on some essential oils and came up with a fragrant little concoction that kicks bug-butt and seems not to be causing a reaction on Malcolm's uber-sensitive skin. I will have to see how he is in the morning, but thus far (after 2 test applications on his thigh and one all-over application), he is rash-free.<br />
<br />
What you need are essential oils (available at Whole Foods or other natural food markets), a carrier oil such as grape seed oil or olive oil and witch hazel or rubbing alcohol. I chose witch hazel with aloe vera in it in the hope that it would do more skin protecting for my rash-prone little chunk of mosquito bait. <br />
<br />
Some oils that are good for bug repellent are:<br />
<br />
Citronella<br />
Clove<br />
Rose Geranium<br />
Lemongrass<br />
Lemon<br />
Eucalyptus<br />
Catnip<br />
Peppermint<br />
Cedar (or Cedarwood)<br />
Lavendar<br />
<br />
This is a 10% mixture - the oils comprise 10% of the over all compound. You can play around with the strength, but since my kiddos are so little, I wanted something a little gentler on the skin and some essential oils can be an irritant. The olive oil is great for your skin, too, though it does feel a little heavy. I might try a lighter oil next time, but all in all I am pleased with my experiment.<br />
<br />
1 fluid ounce of Witch Hazel with Aloe Vera (aloe vera optional)<br />
1 fluid ounce of olive oil<br />
35 drops of citronella essential oil<br />
25 drop of cedarwood (or cedar) essential oil<br />
15 drops of lemongrass essential oil<br />
15 drops of lavender essential oil<br />
<br />
10 drops of clove essential oil<br />
<br class="Apple-interchange-newline" /><br />
Mix them all together and shake well (as well as before each use). I did a little test. I went outside without any bug spray from 15 minutes and came in with 7 mosquito bites. I slathered up with my concoction and went out for 15 minutes and came in with one additional mosquito bite - on my lower back where I had neglected to spray and apparently my shirt was too short. I hope I wasn't flashing any plumber's crack while I was at it.<br />
<br />
The thing with natural bug sprays is they don't last as long as chemical sprays. You have to reapply every 90 minutes or so, or whenever you notice the bugs getting friendlier. I sprayed the grass around where we were sitting, and that kept the bugs down in our general vicinity as well.<br />
<br />
<b>A few notes </b>- while essential oils are generally safe for topical application, they should never be ingested (or these shouldn't - I don't know about ALL essential oils). So keep out of reach of children, never apply to the hands or feet of a baby who is prone to sucking on hands and feet, keep out of the eyes and the mouth and generally use common sense. Don't apply to children under 6 months of age and apply sparingly to children ages 6 months to 2 years. Please talk to your child's doctor before applying this or any other natural product to your children. <br />
<br />
Also, what works for one person may not work for everyone, so if this isn't your magic bullet, play around with some other oils or a different concentration and see what you can come up with. If nothing else, you'll smell nice trying!<br />
<br />
<span style="color: #3f301b; font-size: 15px; line-height: 22px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>DISCLAIMER: The statements made here are purely education and have not been approved by the Food and Drug Administration. They are by no means intended to diagnose, treat or cure or prevent any disease. This notice is required by the Federal Food, Drug and Cosmetic Act.</b></span></span>
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<br />Jennyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01276906940707994369noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7987801588433165683.post-67495946353527066122012-05-16T14:44:00.002-04:002012-05-16T14:44:57.985-04:00Lucy and Malcolm - My Babies at BirthI am a terrible record-keeper. I had intentions to keep a baby book, but simply...didn't...I had to scroll through 2.5 years of posts in my online mom's group to find Lucy's information. Therefore, before Malcolm's babyhood passes me by, and before Lucy goes to college, I am going to document my babies. I'll catch up on them together. Here is post one of Lucy and Malcolm, side by side.<br />
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Lucinda Belle Corbett Malcolm Oliver Corbett</div>
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8 lbs 4 oz 8 lbs 14 oz</div>
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20.5" long 21" long</div>
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Lucy was born on September 8, 2009, two days before her due date. She was born at home (read about it <a href="http://scootietoot.blogspot.com/2010/02/lucys-awesome-hypnobabies-home-birth.html" target="_blank">here</a>). Lucy was not a sleeper (we never got more than 2 hours of sleep for a very long time), and had a really tough time nursing at first. We had all kinds of interesting a painful breastfeeding issues in the first 10 weeks. But oh the unbearable cuteness of being...She tested</div>
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Malcolm was born on September, 23, 2009, 12 days before his due date. He was also born at home (read about it <a href="http://scootietoot.blogspot.com/2011/10/malcolms-birth.html" target="_blank">here </a>and <a href="http://scootietoot.blogspot.com/2011/11/postpartum-haze-impressions-from-day.html" target="_blank">here</a>). Malcolm tricked us into thinking he was a good sleeper. We got our little two week "honeymoon" when he slept forever, all day and night...and then he sprung his midnight waking ways on us. Sneak!</div>Jennyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01276906940707994369noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7987801588433165683.post-48136379581144928592012-05-14T11:23:00.000-04:002012-05-14T11:23:06.505-04:00Conversations with Lucy: I Had A Accident!Lucy has been potty trained for about 6 weeks now, and rarely has accidents. In fact, I can think of three - including naptime accidents. So I trust her to go and use the potty if she needs to if I have go to get something or other done. <br />
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This particular morning, I HAD TO EAT. I mean, it was desperate. I am not sure why the morning had gone on so long without me stuffing my ever-gaping maw. So I went to the kitchen (up a half- flight of stairs and across the hall) to make some eggs. Just as the eggs hit the frying pan, I hear, "Mama! I had a accident!"<br />
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Crap.<br />
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Me (nicest voice possible, even though my stomach lining is now eating itself): That's okay sweetie. It happens. Did you pee?<br />
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Lucy: No.<br />
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Double crap. I now I think I mean this literally.<br />
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Me: What happened? (Are these eggs cooking more slowly than usual...?)<br />
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Silence.<br />
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Sigh.<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvEpdH2lqArWa9WWqK65Ir1ZJKGwytUMDhkrIfDfZxg_lv4AV7j1E4UbLiUUcJNZwh2p7Ft85u5k7271UUuYHstFXV_NkicbUvjYGjuQXq4S3p2kUSL9EE7JAeUr5QsGasfkzBUovDI0U/s1600/IMG_2859.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvEpdH2lqArWa9WWqK65Ir1ZJKGwytUMDhkrIfDfZxg_lv4AV7j1E4UbLiUUcJNZwh2p7Ft85u5k7271UUuYHstFXV_NkicbUvjYGjuQXq4S3p2kUSL9EE7JAeUr5QsGasfkzBUovDI0U/s320/IMG_2859.JPG" width="238" /></a><br />
I turn off the stove and go downstairs to assess the damage. Lucy has an entire TRIPLE ROLL OF TOILET PAPER, unrolled, in her hands. <br />
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Ah. THAT kind of accident.<br />
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Me: Lucy, put it down. I am going to finish my eggs then I'll come help you clean it up.<br />
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I eat my now-cold toast and weirdly cooked eggs and head downstairs.<br />
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Me: What happened, Lucy? I asked you to stop doing this.<br />
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Lucy: What happened?<br />
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Me: I don't know, I'm asking you. What happened?<br />
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Lucy: What did happen?<br />
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Me: (indicating the drifts of toilet paper) What can we do so this doesn't happen anymore?<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLwaWzVbXqq4igY2Jx_7aRVQJN0x2NN4u2g5T9Q1cZqSM3eZicwY3QoUAT9bmNRd4Rt9_2nC0XBPr1EQetILH7X_t_zT8N5jT62MkQcJYA8PoJCFZ-bmdv53Vy33YzIrX5zCTRAR2xrC0/s1600/IMG_2861.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLwaWzVbXqq4igY2Jx_7aRVQJN0x2NN4u2g5T9Q1cZqSM3eZicwY3QoUAT9bmNRd4Rt9_2nC0XBPr1EQetILH7X_t_zT8N5jT62MkQcJYA8PoJCFZ-bmdv53Vy33YzIrX5zCTRAR2xrC0/s320/IMG_2861.JPG" width="238" /></a>Lucy: What?<br />
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Me: Do we need to have all the toilet paper torn into little sheets so when you wipe you don't have to unroll it all?<br />
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Lucy: I already wiped.<br />
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Me: I know. The next time you use the potty.<br />
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Lucy: I already used the potty.<br />
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Me: I know. I mean...never mind. Please don't do this anymore.<br />
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Lucy: What happened?<br />
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Gr.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOr46qG0EPGxlrc2lzfFdQhiWKD8bI2_S0X3bObXAsCUwHW6A245UrGOCETDBwhs27jXjkk4xrp0aroeM0ns8SvpcieG8kcDhd_6lInkPJ6JBTv9Td2-NLRuiY7jFT0bnlXSwOptxcLWM/s1600/IMG_2862.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOr46qG0EPGxlrc2lzfFdQhiWKD8bI2_S0X3bObXAsCUwHW6A245UrGOCETDBwhs27jXjkk4xrp0aroeM0ns8SvpcieG8kcDhd_6lInkPJ6JBTv9Td2-NLRuiY7jFT0bnlXSwOptxcLWM/s320/IMG_2862.JPG" width="239" /></a>To her credit, when I took the paper back to the bathroom (all torn up into individual sheets), there only were two little square of paper in the toilet.Jennyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01276906940707994369noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7987801588433165683.post-60480337221885625292012-05-04T13:08:00.000-04:002012-05-04T13:11:33.290-04:00A Day in Pictures<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Lucy and I had a particularly satisfying day of fun on Wednesday. Three big fun projects, a little impromptu gardening, three different outfits and a lot of water!</div>
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Dyeing Ice Cubes</div>
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Sidewalk Painting</div>
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Watering the Garden and Puddle Jumping</div>
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<br /></div>Jennyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01276906940707994369noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7987801588433165683.post-25891268682962188582012-05-01T19:58:00.000-04:002012-05-01T19:58:39.279-04:00Mrs. Worm<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Lucy and I have been digging for worms in the garden. Really, it is a tactic to get her to help me pull rocks out of the garden while I turn the soil for planting. She quickly tired of getting the rocks for me, but WORMS. My God, the WORMS! Lucy spent 20 minutes running back and forth from the garden to the gate playing TAG with her WORM. I heard her yelling "Tagerit! Tagerit!" over and over and couldn't figure it out. So I asked her what she was doing and lo and behold, "I'm playing tag with my worm Mama! Tag your're it!" And then "Want to play hide and seek with me, worm?" Something tells me the worm doesn't stand a fighting chance in this scenario.<br />
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I tried to tell her that worms like to cool, dark dirt and they are happier in the ground, but she just said "My worm likes me, Mama." And then "Oh, she really loves me!" Yes, "she" - they are all girl worms. I love listening to her worm conversations. "I'm Mrs. Worm and these are my baby worms. You want a snack, baby worm? Time for your nap!" <br />
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When I noticed a worm looking limp and defeated, I'd tell her it was time to find a new one. So she'd tuck the worm into its little dirt bed with a "I'm can not gonna kill the worm," and start over with a new one. Though in retrospect that was a little more cruel than kind; like spreading the torture around I guess. She was literally loving them to death. <br />
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As I continued turning the garden, Kevin was out pushing Malcolm in the swing. I was sort of tuning things out and just trying to get the dirty work done so I could plant my garden, but I heard "Look at my worm Malcolm! Oh, worm, I LOVE you!" <br />
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Kevin (loudly): WHOA! Is worm kissing allowed??<br />
Me: Only blown kisses! (We'd covered worm kissing protocol the day before)
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Kevin: That's what I thought. Yeah, there was some actual lip contact going on!<br />
Lucy (looking pucker-faced and disgusted): I need to wash my mouth.<br />
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That's my girl. <br class="Apple-interchange-newline" /><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggr4TGRKhN48lVhmTpNWoTttakMiGtUuWkiKo2umJdCIwhNxn_Kgwje_dhW7NbtgcbwfiBhtOj2UxnCrjLofw3D2uarydhDU17BeWiNkrGGniNTjww55PBD3-gFd60yVOpsOpu01wRGLo/s1600/IMG_2530.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggr4TGRKhN48lVhmTpNWoTttakMiGtUuWkiKo2umJdCIwhNxn_Kgwje_dhW7NbtgcbwfiBhtOj2UxnCrjLofw3D2uarydhDU17BeWiNkrGGniNTjww55PBD3-gFd60yVOpsOpu01wRGLo/s320/IMG_2530.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Worm kisses!</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">They contemplate each other. Or the worm contemplates its doom while <br />Lucy wonders if it wants a strawberry for a snack.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Are you smiling, worm? I'll smile if you do...</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8P-6nr8dXUFynKj2KyTL0ZVYrFKrPnEkdZrYldMWHp79pziqlo6_h7-jOqclZKfxHszILKPS8qKIqlBYvYhIWwLDNtEh2-AqMwmljM_dSlVsRJUkkUd8MUJWlj0kSOu6mH0U1imReyVM/s1600/IMG_2515.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8P-6nr8dXUFynKj2KyTL0ZVYrFKrPnEkdZrYldMWHp79pziqlo6_h7-jOqclZKfxHszILKPS8qKIqlBYvYhIWwLDNtEh2-AqMwmljM_dSlVsRJUkkUd8MUJWlj0kSOu6mH0U1imReyVM/s320/IMG_2515.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Notice the smear of dirt on her face. This is from worm snuggles.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiccJMt3p6805d_O8vuZVagwjHn_4yH5lafNh0SQEwy1J7u6DC5GJRss8EQ58-NHfYu7Ies0tsUpU6TatATWTfp0qv4GX1tlLyEnk6Oqve2sbswm_HO-oL6NXhYaGv3LPy-3ba-vrk5GlE/s1600/IMG_2524.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiccJMt3p6805d_O8vuZVagwjHn_4yH5lafNh0SQEwy1J7u6DC5GJRss8EQ58-NHfYu7Ies0tsUpU6TatATWTfp0qv4GX1tlLyEnk6Oqve2sbswm_HO-oL6NXhYaGv3LPy-3ba-vrk5GlE/s320/IMG_2524.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"WOOK AT THE WORM!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9-zLNtljmFKZebRNbO6q05TReFStLojPMAZSqv-gQURU1AI7kTaUzZCGcrJvFy-NgaOQoqlWbdysDWblIhcGPvb-qPgMx7xPyK1R0my4SLmqdgkwMNXClNAJ7yqb-3x2GdIYunzEuUQc/s1600/IMG_2516.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9-zLNtljmFKZebRNbO6q05TReFStLojPMAZSqv-gQURU1AI7kTaUzZCGcrJvFy-NgaOQoqlWbdysDWblIhcGPvb-qPgMx7xPyK1R0my4SLmqdgkwMNXClNAJ7yqb-3x2GdIYunzEuUQc/s320/IMG_2516.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"I am not going to kill it, Mama"<br /><br /><br /><br /></td></tr>
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<br />Jennyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01276906940707994369noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7987801588433165683.post-83482721362643178512012-04-28T21:02:00.001-04:002012-04-28T21:03:15.732-04:00Bring on the REAL FOOD, Mama!At Malcolm's 6 month check-up, I told the doctor that he wasn't really interested in solids so we weren't trying very hard. She said "he really needs to be eating"...um...because my 20 lb, 6 oz six-month-old is <i>clearly</i> malnourished? I take what most doctors say with a grain of salt, but because I don't know everything, I kept trying, thinking maybe he really should be eating. Malcolm gave me this face, every time I tried to feed him something other than boob:<br />
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"Err...what do you think you are trying to do?" </div>
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Sometimes it was this face:</div>
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"Uh huh. I don't think so, lady." He look even looks slightly disappointed in me.</div>
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One time he actually looked at the spoon, looked at me and then sighed deeply as if to say "Seriously? I thought I'd made my wishes on this subject known."</div>
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So pediatrician be damned, I gave up and left him to his booby juice. Then two days ago, I offered him a smooshed pea off of my finger, just for giggles. He looked at it, grabbed my finger and ate it. I did it again...same result. Then I pulled a mama bird trick and chewed up a little carrot and gave it to him.. He LUNGED at my finger to get at it! So apparently, he wanted texture. Or at least not moosh. This morning he ate a huge bowl of oatmeal (the real stuff, not baby cereal), carrots and cinnamon. He's a eatin' boy now! Though it is possible he is using me to get at the spoons... </div>
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<br /></div>Jennyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01276906940707994369noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7987801588433165683.post-30660671197449851772012-04-28T20:43:00.001-04:002012-04-28T20:43:11.261-04:00Whole Wheat Applesauce Cupcakes<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">For the moment, I shall ignore my sad blog-neglect. I wanted to pin this recipe, since it was such a huge hit with Lucy, but there was no picture of the scrumptious cupcakes it created. So here it is - a healthy (ish - no eggs, no butter, no milk, no added salt - just a wee heavy on the sugar to be truly healthy) cupcake.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Whole Wheat Applesauce Cake or Cupcakes</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">1/2 cup oil</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">3/4 cup granulated sugar or granulated brown sugar </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">1 cup applesauce</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">1 1/2 cup unsifted whole wheat flour</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">1 tsp baking soda</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">1 tsp cinnamon</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">1/2 tsp nutmeg (optional for a spicier cupcake)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">1/2 tsp allspice (optional for a spicier cupcake)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">1/2 cup raisins</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-size: 17px;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Oil and flour an 8 inch round or square baking pan or muffin tins. Cream the oil and sugar together and mix in the applesauce and baking soda. Add flour and cinnamon, blending thoroughly. Pour the batter into pan or make individual cakes in muffin tins. Bake at 375 degrees for 30 minutes for an 8 inch cake; about 20 minutes for cupcakes.</span></span>
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 17px;">I used a mini cupcake maker and baked them for about 7 minutes. To ruin the health factor, I smeared them with some leftover butter cream frosting. Yum! And I took the picture with Hipstamatic to camouflage the crappy frosting job I did. </span></span></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; font-size: 17px;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span>Jennyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01276906940707994369noreply@blogger.com0