Crystal Snowflake Experiment

We had a sick boy the last couple of days, so we did what any self-respecting homeschool family would - we made Borax snowflake crystals. They came out really cool! We're going to try some later this week using food coloring, just to see. Here's how we did it, from the website www.creativekidsathome.com:

Materials - pipe cleaners, thread, wool, water, borax, disposable container (we used Cool-Whip tubs)

Create the snowflake shapes from pipe cleaners. Ours, as you can see from the pics, look kind of like fancy pretzels, but you can kind of see the sparkle. Cut one pipe cleaner in three pieces and twist them together in the center. Tie a thread or wool around each of the arms to create a circle.Take one pipe cleaner and twirl it into a spiral shape.Take two pipe cleaners and twist them together in the center. Bend the pieces to create square or rectangular sections of the snowflake.

Choose a container that is wide and deep enough to allow the snowflakes to float freely. Find a stick or ruler that can sit across the top of the container. Use the thread to tie the snowflakes to the stick.

Have an adult heat some water to boiling and pour it into the container. Add about 1/4 cup of borax for every 2 cups of boiling water. Stir until it dissolves. If all the borax dissolves, continue adding more borax until a bit is left not dissolved.

Put the stick over the container so that all the snowflakes are floating in the borax solution. Try to arrange them so that they don't touch each other.
Leave them over night to let the crystals form.

Borax is a mineral (sodium tetraborate) that is commonly sold as a laundry booster. I personally use the 20 Mule Team Borax, available at any grocery store. Do not use laundry soap with borax added.

Borax is a chemical and must be handled with care. Never leave it where young children can get to it.

Hints:
Use colored pipe cleaners to create colorful snowflakes.

Try adding food coloring to the solution to get colorful snowflakes.

Watch out, Angelina! Brad's Mine Now!

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OK, We Rallied!

While I was in the shower, the kids availed themselves of my big sweaters, made up a hula dance, and performed it for me complete with my shoes, mittens, baseball caps and purse. They were so funny and cute, I had to share! They do have an element of Oliver Twist about them as well; I kept expecting them to ask for more gruel, please. I am not sure why, but Anna insisted on holding out a wrapped bar of soap. Their performance has greatly improved my mood and I now think they're the best kiddos on the block again. (Please ignore the mess on the floor and squashed couch cushions. There can only be so much expected of me in a morning).

Today I am Too Tired To...

...make my kids do anything. Yes, there are days like this, when everyone (including mom) is grouchy and on edge. So far, we've had fights over a cardboard tube, computer time, taking a bath, changing underwear and brushing teeth - my patience is gone and we've not even had lunch, let alone accomplished any of the super fun Thanksgiving lapbook activities I had planned!

Then, I remembered why we are homeschooling. It's so we can feel free to NOT do the activities if no one is in the groove. So we can have days where underwear doesn't matter (at least for the kids). After all, a day of computer games is not going to kill them, especially the ones they like, such as Peep and the Big, Wide World or Warrior Cats.

Anna rattled off her 7, 8 and 9 times tables and practiced her violin this morning. The boys laughed at some Mr. books - you remember, Mr. Messy, Mr. Bump, etc. I think that's plenty of book-learnin' for today, and probably more than their schooled counterparts did on a half day before a holiday - one of Anna's friends said all they were doing today was switching desks!

All the worrying over if they are learning enough has been getting me down these days, and sometimes I fear that I might be becoming an unschooler (don't tell anyone). So I am going to let things go today, and spend some time re-evaluating things.

In other news, I am trying to come up with an elaborate scheme to get out in the next few days (a scheme is needed, since I am generally not allowed to leave if it's for something fun) to see the "Twilight" movie. Any suggestions would be much appreciated, as would the offer to accompany me. Is it pathetic to see a vampire love story by myself? I almost don't care....

A Short List of Things I am Ashamed to Admit

It's time to get some of my quirks out of my system as part of a soul-cleansing I feel coming on. Here are several things I do that cause me shame, and need to be purged:

1. I pre-ordered and devoured quickly all of the Harry Potter books. I also re-read them on a regular basis, and am sad that the release of the new movie was put out until July 2009.

2. At night, I google old boyfriends and sometimes consider contacting them.

3. I am addicted to Facebook and often ignore my kids to take useless quizzes and participate in cyber foodfights.

4. I am also addicted to conservative talk radio, 96.9 WTTK with Jay Severin and Michael Graham, in particular. I sometimes call in as well, and get a thrill about being on the radio.

5. I harbor an unrequited crush on a man I know casually, and blush and giggle whenever I see him. I have no doubt he believes me a complete idiot.

6. I sometimes fantasize about getting cosmetic surgery.

7. In my mind, I am thin with the ass of a 22-year-old and I look good in low-rise jeans. In reality, I have a post-partum muffin top that seems to be here to stay. The denial gets me out the door in the morning - without it, I would probably be an agorophobic.

8. I secretly wish I could have just one more baby and get choked up whenever I see newborns.

9. I am obsessed with the new "Twilight" series, and plan to ignore my kids this afternoon so I can finish the first installment.

10. I feel a strong letdown whenever a cycle of America's Next Top Model ends and wonder what I am going to do on Wednesday nights now.

I am sure there are more shameful things I do, I have just blocked them out for now. Please feel free to point them out to me, as the need arises.

Gearing up for Christmas

In a valiant effort to keep a perpetual smile on face despite the fact we are visiting my mother-in-law (who hates me and all my choices with a passion that cannot be denied) for Christmas this year, I am spending waaay too much time online making festive and foolish videos of my family. Here is my favorite one from JibJab, including a rare sighting of the erstwhile father of my children!

Sometimes it's Easy to be Proud

I took my kids to their favorite play place yesterday (Rumble Tumble in Portsmouth, NH, if anyone's in the area). For awhile we had the place to ourselves, and then some older children trickled in. One of the girls had Down's Syndrome, and I watched curiously to see what my own kids would say or do. My daughter ran right up to her and invited her to play the game, which somehow involved cats (due to Anna's obsession with the Warriors books). The girl declared she wanted to be a dog, and that was OK with Anna as long as she was a nice one.

My boys joined in, pretending with the girls to be animals in various states of distress, who had to be rescued by the others. Two kids said audibly that they "didn't want to play with that girl" (meaning the one with Down's) and went over to play in another section. Anna carried on with her new friend, asking her name, etc. They had a wonderful time, taking turns being different animals and playing rescue.

The girl's mother came over to me and asked where Anna went to school. I said I homeschooled, and that mom said she wasn't surprised and that the only children who have wholly accepted her daughter in new situations are homeschooled. We had a lovely chat until it was time to go, and my mommy pride swelled.

I waited to see if Anna would mention the girl, or ask about her appearance or voice, but no questions came - from her or the boys. She just talked with excitement about her new friend Cassidy and how much she hoped we would cross paths again. I needed a moment like that to see that what I am doing is a good thing, as we all have doubts. Watching my little girl be so blind to differences in another person was one of the greatest moments of my mommyhood, and I hope it continues.

Why I Love the Duggars

For those of you who don't know them, they are a family on TLC with 17 children and one on the way. Yes, they are a little creepy in that they all dress kind of alike and the girls don't cut their hair and all their names (except mom Michelle) start with the letter J AND they live in Arkansas. But I love watching them, especially the mom. They are a great-looking family, perpetually good natured and kind to one another. Michelle is calm and rational, and never raises her voice. She homeschools them all, teaches the kids to care for one another and makes a mean tater-tot casserole.

There is controversy in the blogosphere about their religion and their decision to not use birth control. However, they have no debt, their home is immaculate, they work hard, the kids are clean and good citizens.

I am the first to admit that I can barely manage my three children, who some days seem forever bent on driving me to commit extreme alcohol consumption (so far, I have resisted). When I think I can't go on, I hear Michelle's sweet voice in my head as she gently steers her children right. Everyone needs a role model, and right now my greatest wish would be to meet this incredible woman and listen to her secrets. She could teach me a lot.

This afternoon, as a cold New England breeze made riding bikes impossible and the kids clamored to go indoors, I channeled Michelle for a little while. We made delish chocolate chip and molasses cookies, Anna did a little violin concert for us and I diffused a fight involving a red pom-pom being weilded harshly from one brother to another without yelling. I also successfully restrained myself from sending a snarky reply to the woman who barely knows me, but felt OK sending me a link to an education program that helps teach children empathy and non-agressive play techniques. Hmmmmmm. Trying to tell me something about my very normal boys? Sorry, dont' want them to be girls! But I digress....

In this age of children and teens run amok and parents who delegate the raising of their children to daycares, nannies and schools, the Duggars are a refreshing change. Their innocence and genuine contentment are something to which we can all aspire. Michelle, if you ever read this, give me a call. I need you!

Worm Condo

The man with whom I share a legal bond and three children finally decided to replace the attic window that rotted and fell out of its casing in June. This required the tossing of wood, asbestos shingles, a rusty wheel and other treasures onto the ground. Since it had just rained, and our driveway was covered in worms, my kids decided to build a worm house using all the junk they found. I am counting this in my homeschooling as 1) art, 2) architecture, 3) natural science and 4) socialization. Here are the pictures of the lovely worm home, which is still intact in the side of our little hill. Note: the thing that looks like a joint in one of the pictures is NOT a joint or a cigarette butt. It's just a random piece of paper that translated as such onto the film. Also, the kids are wearing their helmets of their own accord - they thought it prudent to put them on as to avoid the flying debris from the attic. They do not have a medical condition requiring them....anyway, enjoy the worm condo.

A Short List of Old Boyfriends Who Would Make Worse Husbands Than the One I Married

I really dated some doozies in my formative years. The picture is not actually any of the boys I went out with, but a close approximation. Even though my husband has many flaws (like some very weird addictions and extreme cheapness), at least he's gainfully employed. Here is a list of just a few of the men I am glad I never married:

1. Ron K., who informed me he slept with his stepmother while we were visiting her in her double-wide trailer in southern Indiana. I also met him at an under-21 club when I was 17 and he was decidedly over 21. Should've been my first clue...

2. Cory P., whose main goal in life was being a manager of a record store.

3. Ed S., who failed to mention he was a Chief Warlock of a witch coven and also a Satan worshipper - I found out from a jealous fellow wiccan who told me at a party.

4. Jon H., the soulful jazz guitarist, who recently spent several years in the Barnum and Bailey Circus.

5. Scott F., who was cool because he had a pilot's license and flew me around, but was boring as dead leaves when on the ground.

6. Joe (can't remember his last initial) who was just plain sleazy.

7. Paul (also can't remember the last initial), who was always yelling at me for using napkins and other throw-away items, and for showering daily. He was green before it was trendy and not very nice about it.

I am sure there are more that I have thankfully forgotten. When things are bad, I will just think about how it could be worse. Much, much worse.

For My BFF Amy

Yes, I have a BFF. We became friends in the third grade when, after I was kissed by the captivating, bespectacled redhead Danny Noe at the top of the curly slide during recess which resulted in my life and limb being threatened by the bully Libby Mellinger, she saved me and immediately we became inseparable. Her name is Amy, and I love her like a sister.

I was thinking about all the things we have done in our lives, and how she is the only one who gets why I am funny (everyone else actually believes I want my husband to die. I don't, really, at least not until the estate gets a little bigger). She is now the lovely mother of 4 wonderful children, and also homeschools (though she is not rebellious like I am). We both lament our messy homes and lack of free time, but ultimately really like our children and want to be with them.

In youth, we were forever trying to be popular. Amy coined this phase "our never-ending quest for popularity". I am sad to report the quest just sort of faded, and neither of us reached the pinnacle of social success. Our biggest attempt included choreographing and performing an alluring dance (with 3 other friends) to "Celebration" by Kool and the Gang in the 5th grade talent show. She, the more realistic of the two of us, knew that if anything we'd become less popular. I, the one who is perpetually embroiled in unrealistic fantasy to this day, envisioned Queen Bee Christy Metzing asking us to teach her and the other popular kids the dance at recess and taking us into their fold. Since Amy is infinitely smarter in all ways, our social stock did indeed plummet.

But we always had fun. I loved going to her house, because her mom was a great devotee of Hostess snacks. I don't believe there was ever a time that the pantry wasn't well-stocked with Crumb Cakes. Once, we buried an old lipstick in her yard, and we tortured her brother, who to this day speaks only in grunts. We immensely enjoyed torturing my mother, once by brandishing matches in the woods and threatening to "blaze a trail". In our baton class, we were taught a routine to "Superfreak" by Rick James. Whatever was that teacher thinking!

We were once yelled at by the elderly couple across the street from my house while singing/playing piano for our own rendition of, "Tonight, I Celebrate My Love for You." Later on, I realized with horror that we had just performed "Kiss" by Prince on karaoke night at the Bombay Bicycle Club in front of my future step father. Music, for some reason, was always a big part of our time together.

We went to rival colleges, I to the great Indiana University, she to Purdue (also known as Undue Perversity). She was in a sorority; I just mocked them with my unsuitable, mohawk wearing boyfriend and shot the poor pledges with water guns during rush. She married the perfect man; I, well, didn't. She's tall and dark; I am squat and blond. But through it all we have never forgotten all the times we've laughed until we cried (and after all our collective kids, probably peed a little, too). Amy always listens and doesn't make fun of me when I am sad, at least not until later when I can see the humor. She is as good as a soothsayer in predicting the next girl to be eliminated from America's Next Top Model, too.

So here's my ode to Amy, the best girl there is!

Yes, this is a picture of Amy and her good-natured and tolerant husband, Jason, at a medieval festival. Can you see why I love her so?

REM

Remember that crazy group from the 90s? I have the song, "It's the End of the World as We Know It" running through my head. I am also lamenting the fact that I got so little REM-level sleep last night, after tossing and turning until nearly 3am after the Republicans were so soundly trounced. Even the people of my homeland, Indiana, went for Obama. I was also imagining other things not mentionable here in the blogosphere, but hey, a girl's mind can wander, right?

Obama promises to bring change. Well, I had food poisoning once. That was a change, but I can't say it was a good one! I did wake up this morning and the earth is still turning, my kids still think it's funny to hide in a cabinet and be very quiet while I pretend to look for them (for the 18th morning in a row), and I still have trouble filtering things I say before they come spewing forth from my loud mouth. Perhaps it will not be so bad after all.

The kids just came in to inform me that they have built a fort for Rosie, beloved pet. The pictures below represent what happens when you let children run amok in the yard. I love their blissful ignorance that their life has changed, that they are living in historic times (yes, I voted against this president-elect, but I can't deny a little excitement that I was here when the race barrier came down a bit, and we have a president who is half white, half something else like my own children).

Fat Feet

I went shoe shopping last night. For most women, this is a blissful experience, only rivaled by having one's house professionally cleaned while one sits by on the couch, enjoying Ghiradelli squares and a nice shiraz while watching the housecleaner scrub the floors. For me, it is an exercise in frustration that I only subject myself to when my former shoes are nothing but tatters and can no longer function.

I knew I was different even as a young child, when we'd go shoe shopping and my mother would announce to the salesperson, "We need double wides. This child has Fred Flintstone feet." All eyes would immediately dart to my feet, as though they were Harry Potter's lightning bolt scar. They closely resemble rectangles with stubby toes, and could indeed propel a car made of stone wheels.

A particularly bad time for me was in fifth grade, when jelly shoes were all the rage. I squeezed my feet into a pair, only to have my flesh ooze out of the little holes, not unlike play-doh through a garlic press. Determined to be in style, I lived through the pain for the morning, until my circulation was completely cut off and the shoes had to be carefully removed by cutting the plastic with small toenail scissors. "Don't you know better? Your feet will never be cute and small," said my mother as she encased my damaged feet safely in my brother's Converse.

So I bypass the adorable, strappy heels and the ballet flats and head to the industrial strength shoes with clunky heels and a "wide toe box". I have, on occasion, shopped in the men's department. The only relief I have had came during the grunge phase of the early 90s, when roomy Doc Martens were acceptable.

My current shoes were in such bad shape they had holes (colored in with a Sharpie to hide it on the black pair) and the interior looked and smelled like the inside of an apartment in the projects. I spent several days psyching myself up for a trip to Kohl's for new shoes - I have to go to places where it's self-serve, because I cannot bear the thought of springing my hideous feet on an unsuspecting shoe salesman.

After looking longingly at the shiny patent-leather, low-cut pumps in cherry red that I always covet, I moved to the sturdy shoes. After trying them all on, I settled on a pair I like in brown and black. Then, I spied some Mary Jane heels that looked like they were well-suited for the tranny population! They had them in my size! I tried them on and they fit! I quickly tossed them into my bag, envisioning a day soon when I would muster up enough courage to put on some tights and wear them with a sassy skirt (another fashion item I have trouble pulling off).

With a few new pairs of shoes in tow, I left the store in relief that I won't have to do it again for at least a year. Whew! Now back to my regular life...

New Month, New Challenges

I have signed up for NaNoWriMo. There, it's out. I have committed to writing a novel in a month. I don't know if I can do it, but it does sound like great fun. The goal of NaNoWriMo is to write a 175-page tome in the 30 days of November. It's supposed to be stream-of-consciousness style writing, with no editing or careful word usage (that can be done later). Then, you send the mess out to literary agents, and hopefully become the next JK Rowling. Since my clever pitches to agents last month have so far gone unanswered, perhaps this is the way to go. Now all I need is a topic about which to write....

I am also taking a bread-making class as part of my image makeover to a calm, lovely person who feeds her family from the fruits of her hands instead of a shrew who buys everything at Market Basket (though calm, lovely anarchist may be a bit difficult to pull off).

Updates are coming! Now I am off to recover from Halloween.