My lands, those are some mighty decorative jeans!
And they fit perfectly too. Thanks, Dacia!
And they fit perfectly too. Thanks, Dacia!
Monday, November 30, 2009
Double Birthday Party Addendum
I forgot to include the pictures of Aunt Dacia's birthday present for Meg. Here's Meggers a few days after the party, modeling:
Double Birthday Party
Earlier this month we had the great pleasure of a visit from these folks:
Dave's Mom and Tom hail from a tiny (and slightly swampy) mound of earth known as Merritt, Michigan. It's a good 12-hour drive from here, so we don't get to see them very often. In their honor, we held an extra birthday party for the kids--late for Matthew (September), early for Meg (December). This meant that Grandma and Grandpa got to see the kids open and enjoy their gifts, and the kids... well, they got to open and enjoy gifts! Definitely a win-win.
Meg about to start into her pile:
This was the first time Matthew really understood and got into opening presents. He still needs some help getting off all of the paper.
Rain hat and Cars sticker courtesy of Aunt Dacia. Thanks, Aunt Dacia!
Blowing out candles together:
Yay!
Matthew and the M and M cake:
The cake is sort of a funny story. I had grand plans to whip up a quick box mix and then spend the extra time decorating. It was supposed to be a fish cake, since we were going to the aquarium later that week, and both kids love fishies. I found a gorgeous example cake on the Family Fun site and was all set to work some cake magic!
Well, the cake didn't come out of the pan. I don't know quite what happened, as I haven't had a cake stick in years. I greased and floured the pan to perfection, let it cool in the pan for the recommended time, but when I turned the pan upside down and lifted... a wide and shallow crater appeared right down the middle. After a little bit of whining, I took it as a sign from the Lord that my original plan was overly ambitious (i.e., foolish). (And given the limited time I had that day, it certainly was.)
We ended up setting the missing chunk of cake back in its hole and frosting it liberally with a luscious buttercream. Meg chose green food coloring--after I said we couldn't do pink for Matthew's sake. (Mint green cake... hmm.) As a finishing touch, I cut out a stencil and made two M's with colored sugar: one pink, one blue. The blue M got two candles beside it; the pink M got four candles beside it, and that was it. My beautiful (ahem), hastily-conceived, Plan B cake.
And you know what? No one could have cared less.
Dave's Mom and Tom hail from a tiny (and slightly swampy) mound of earth known as Merritt, Michigan. It's a good 12-hour drive from here, so we don't get to see them very often. In their honor, we held an extra birthday party for the kids--late for Matthew (September), early for Meg (December). This meant that Grandma and Grandpa got to see the kids open and enjoy their gifts, and the kids... well, they got to open and enjoy gifts! Definitely a win-win.
Meg about to start into her pile:
This was the first time Matthew really understood and got into opening presents. He still needs some help getting off all of the paper.
Rain hat and Cars sticker courtesy of Aunt Dacia. Thanks, Aunt Dacia!
Blowing out candles together:
Yay!
Matthew and the M and M cake:
The cake is sort of a funny story. I had grand plans to whip up a quick box mix and then spend the extra time decorating. It was supposed to be a fish cake, since we were going to the aquarium later that week, and both kids love fishies. I found a gorgeous example cake on the Family Fun site and was all set to work some cake magic!
Well, the cake didn't come out of the pan. I don't know quite what happened, as I haven't had a cake stick in years. I greased and floured the pan to perfection, let it cool in the pan for the recommended time, but when I turned the pan upside down and lifted... a wide and shallow crater appeared right down the middle. After a little bit of whining, I took it as a sign from the Lord that my original plan was overly ambitious (i.e., foolish). (And given the limited time I had that day, it certainly was.)
We ended up setting the missing chunk of cake back in its hole and frosting it liberally with a luscious buttercream. Meg chose green food coloring--after I said we couldn't do pink for Matthew's sake. (Mint green cake... hmm.) As a finishing touch, I cut out a stencil and made two M's with colored sugar: one pink, one blue. The blue M got two candles beside it; the pink M got four candles beside it, and that was it. My beautiful (ahem), hastily-conceived, Plan B cake.
And you know what? No one could have cared less.
Sunday, November 29, 2009
Mr. Toad
One crisp October morning, I bundled the big kids up and sent them toward the door with strict instructions to stay in our front yard until I got my shoes on and joined them. I dashed upstairs to rummage through my sock drawer, and as I headed back down the stairs, I heard Meg's voice, yelling. She sounded alarmed. "Mommy, there's a dead frog in our yard!"
A... dead... frog?
"MOMMY, there's a dead FROG in our yard!"
"OK, Honey, just a minute!" I pulled on socks, shoes, jacket, and skipped out the door. Meg and Matthew were standing on the grass looking uncertainly toward the bush by our front stoop. I headed over to investigate.
It was not dead.
It was not a frog.
It was a sleepy, warty, brown toad. He was fairly large--perhaps a little bigger than my fist. I guess he was camping out under the kids' riding toys for the night, and when they pulled the toys up... he was exposed. Thinking that Meg and Matthew would be entertained--or at least intrigued--by a closer look, I picked up a dried stem from our flower bed. "Come here, guys!" I called. "It's a toad. Look!" I gave it a gentle poke.
The toad stirred sleepily, then seemed to crouch slightly. Hop. At least, I guess it was supposed to be a hop. More like a shuffle really--it barely cleared the ground. But that was more than enough for Matthew. He let out a scream of absolute terror and went tearing toward the sidewalk, where he stood shrieking with horror. Initially, Meg seemed uncertain whether to laugh or follow her brother's example. Eventually she made her way a little closer to the toad and watched its grumpy, reluctant retreat under the bush. We haven't seen it since.
And the point of retelling this encounter with nature? Nothing, really, except to state that a large toad is an incredibly ugly creature. These pictures don't do justice to its warty, pimply, thick-skinned, lumpy ickyness. Oh, I know that God called all of His creation good, and that the toad is part of creation and therefore good too. But frankly, this is one of those times where I just think: If You say so, Lord. If You say so.
A... dead... frog?
"MOMMY, there's a dead FROG in our yard!"
"OK, Honey, just a minute!" I pulled on socks, shoes, jacket, and skipped out the door. Meg and Matthew were standing on the grass looking uncertainly toward the bush by our front stoop. I headed over to investigate.
It was not dead.
It was not a frog.
It was a sleepy, warty, brown toad. He was fairly large--perhaps a little bigger than my fist. I guess he was camping out under the kids' riding toys for the night, and when they pulled the toys up... he was exposed. Thinking that Meg and Matthew would be entertained--or at least intrigued--by a closer look, I picked up a dried stem from our flower bed. "Come here, guys!" I called. "It's a toad. Look!" I gave it a gentle poke.
The toad stirred sleepily, then seemed to crouch slightly. Hop. At least, I guess it was supposed to be a hop. More like a shuffle really--it barely cleared the ground. But that was more than enough for Matthew. He let out a scream of absolute terror and went tearing toward the sidewalk, where he stood shrieking with horror. Initially, Meg seemed uncertain whether to laugh or follow her brother's example. Eventually she made her way a little closer to the toad and watched its grumpy, reluctant retreat under the bush. We haven't seen it since.
And the point of retelling this encounter with nature? Nothing, really, except to state that a large toad is an incredibly ugly creature. These pictures don't do justice to its warty, pimply, thick-skinned, lumpy ickyness. Oh, I know that God called all of His creation good, and that the toad is part of creation and therefore good too. But frankly, this is one of those times where I just think: If You say so, Lord. If You say so.
Artistic Endeavors
Meg only recently began to move beyond the scribble stage in her drawing efforts. I remember quite well the first "person" she drew. We were on our way to Gran's house on the Fourth of July. (I even recall the stretch of road we were on: Route 15 between Leesburg and Gilbert's corner.) The kids were drawing on their magnetic doodle pads when Meg suddenly exclaimed, "Look! A face!" I took the pad from her extended hand and, low and behold, there it was. A face. A flattened-circle head with eyes, a mouth and legs sprouting from its chin.
I'll admit to tearing up slightly when I saw this wondrous creation. I dunno why exactly... it was just so cute! And... well, I sometimes thought she would never get through the scribbling!
Well, many flattened-circle faces later, I finally took a picture of something she drew! I don't know why, but crayon-and-paper drawing times tend to result only in scribbling, while the magnetic pad inspires Meg's more realistic efforts. And it finally occurred to me that taking pictures is the only way to preserve these sketches, before they--zzzzzzzip!--get erased forever. So now, ladies and gentlemen, after far too much ado, I present my Meggy's very first documented landscape, entitled "The Sun."
Amazing, right? (That scribble near the top of the sun is its hair bow, ok? Geez, don't you folks have any imagination?)
One other fun medium we've explored lately is playdough. One of the kids' attempts I just found so hilarious that I had to take a picture...
The sculpture is there between the two artistes.
Here's a close-up:
I'm not sure why I find this so funny. Maybe it's the flag? Doesn't it sort of look like a badly-designed monument? A monument to... plastic baby-food spoons? Plastic baby-food spoons and mixer beaters? Plastic baby-food spoons and mixer beaters in America?
I'll admit to tearing up slightly when I saw this wondrous creation. I dunno why exactly... it was just so cute! And... well, I sometimes thought she would never get through the scribbling!
Well, many flattened-circle faces later, I finally took a picture of something she drew! I don't know why, but crayon-and-paper drawing times tend to result only in scribbling, while the magnetic pad inspires Meg's more realistic efforts. And it finally occurred to me that taking pictures is the only way to preserve these sketches, before they--zzzzzzzip!--get erased forever. So now, ladies and gentlemen, after far too much ado, I present my Meggy's very first documented landscape, entitled "The Sun."
One other fun medium we've explored lately is playdough. One of the kids' attempts I just found so hilarious that I had to take a picture...
Here's a close-up:
I'm not sure why I find this so funny. Maybe it's the flag? Doesn't it sort of look like a badly-designed monument? A monument to... plastic baby-food spoons? Plastic baby-food spoons and mixer beaters? Plastic baby-food spoons and mixer beaters in America?
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