(And All My) Work Be Praise

A long time ago -- maybe a year? nine months? -- Levi started telling us once or twice a week at dinner that his foot had fuzz on it. This was extremely upsetting to him: he'd whine, and cry a little, and brush at his foot frantically. We'd inspect the foot for fuzz, finding nothing, and try (unsuccessfully) to reassure him that there was no fuzz on his foot. After a few minutes, he'd settle down, and we'd wonder what on earth that was all about. Finally, much more recently -- a month or two ago -- instead of saying, "my foot has fuzz on it," he used the phrase, "my foot is fuzzy," and all of a sudden I understood. He'd been sitting on his foot, and it had fallen asleep! I don't normally associate the "pins and needles" feeling with "fuzziness," but if you have no idea what's going on and a limited number of adjectives at hand, I don't think "fuzzy" is so far off.  A toddler mystery decoded! Readin...

I own a small blue glue gun. It was lost for a long time. Like, years. In July or so, I decided it was time to get a new one, so that I could do a few crafty projects for my kids. The next day -- I kid you not -- I found the old one. In a place that I was so sure  I'd looked before. Go figure. I took the new one back to Target. Armed with a glue gun and an addiction to pinterest , plus a desire to scrapbook but no time to work on a project that large, I've been hankering for little crafty projects to complete in an afternoon. Finally, a few weeks ago, my gaze happened to rest upon the Lenten-themed wreath still hanging on the closet door in my entryway. Definitely time for a seasonal update! A quick trip to Hobby Lobby confirmed my desire to "DIY" this wreath. Did you know fake floral wreaths can cost $100?! I did not. For about $15, I picked up a straw wreath, one small bunch of fake fall flowers, a cardboard letter G (for my last name), and a mini can of b...

I'm going public with my baby-based weight fluctuation.  Here's my story: While I was pregnant with Levi, I gained 45 pounds. When I got pregnant with Owen, Levi was seven months old, and I'd lost 35 pounds. While I was pregnant with Owen, I gained 35 pounds. When I got pregnant with Silas, Owen was ten months old, and I'd lost 42 pounds, putting me just three pounds shy of my pre-baby weight. While I was pregnant with Silas, I gained 65 pounds. SIXTY-FIVE. It's a little mortifying to admit. He's four months old now, and I've lost 35 pounds, but that still leaves a pesky thirty pounds hanging around. I hit up Goodwill several times for enough to get by, but I miss my non-fat clothes. Even my shoes don't fit, and I don't own a single coat I can button. A friend on Facebook has been posting about her own weight loss [notice I'm not going that  public!], using a free food- and exercise-tracker called My Fitness Pal . When she announced s...

For quite some time, my husband has been encouraging to me to make a set dinner plan (for a week, or two weeks, or even a month) and just repeat it over and over.  I've been resistant.  Even though I know it would simplify life not to be planning unique meals each week or month, I really enjoy browsing recipes and keeping variety in my meal plans. I'm beginning to cave, however.  In the busy-ness of working Sundays and the laziness of Friday afternoons, I rarely get dinner planned (and, subsequently, made) sufficiently on those two days.  And so we've instituted Spaghetti Sundays and Fajita Fridays.  Each one has its specific perks: Spaghetti Sundays: meatless and therefore cheap, quick and reliable.  The boys both eat spaghetti without complaint.  I've tried making my own sauce a few times, but I'm never happy with the taste or consistency, so I've given myself permission to buy the Ragu I love.  The jar claims to provide a full serving of ve...

Today was one of those awesome (but rare) days in which I let go of any preconceived notions about the day and just let life happen.  Technically, according to my self-imposed schedule, we should have reviewed our memory verse, completed a math lesson (Levi), made lines of yellow playdough (Owen), possibly run out to the library, and learned the silly "Father Abraham" song as a gross motor correlation to the week's Bible story.   Instead, Silas and I fell asleep nursing in bed, which made me late in getting ready for the day.  Isaac stayed home for part of the morning, in which Levi did most of the scheduled math lesson and I spent an eternity in the shower, trying to summon up the will to re-enter my chaotic life downstairs.  It did not look like today was going to be very pretty. But, rejoin life I did, and as we all snuggled on the couch for a story, things started to pick up.  The bigger boys had great fun helping Silas touch different textures in a b...