(And All My) Work Be Praise

I started this post when Silas was three weeks old.  We've been just a little bit busy since then (and still are). Regardless, considerably after the fact, here I present to you three activities that were perfect in ability level (a bit challenging, but not so much as to be frustrating) for my then-35-month-old. Fishing At that time, we were reading about Jesus calling his disciples to become "fishers of men" in our morning Bible time, so I thought we should do some sort of fishing activity.  People all over the blogging world have great ideas about attaching string to a dowel rod, tying a magnet to the end of the string, creating cute little fish with magnets in their mouths to fish for, etc.  I am 1) not that crafty, 2) not that blessed with extra time, and 3) not that concerned with having my activities be cute.  In lieu of those three things, I hooked a paper clip onto a piece of string and threw our letter and number magnets in a laundry basket.  The ...

For quite some time now, I've been reading the same Bible story to the boys for a week at a time, adding in correlating projects or songs as time and/or energy permit.  Last week's story was of the Prodigal Son .  My go-to source for activities ( abcjesuslovesme.com ) suggested fingerpainting in chocolate pudding, pretending to be pigs rolling in the mud.  It's been a while since we did a messy activity, so one night after dinner I whipped up some homemade chocolate pudding  and the next morning, we dug right in!  Both of the boys tend to be a little finicky about getting their hands dirty -- Owen asks for a "hand wipe" after nearly every bite -- but once they deemed it okay (and tasty), they dug right in! The first wipe across the belly was accidental. But then Levi had to try it, too. Chocolate drool! Hey, this is kinda fun. (Not sure what happened to his plate.) Thug Owen. Happy chocolate boy.

Levi doesn't eat much.  I first posted about this 15 months ago, when we started requiring a certain number of bites before he was allowed to drink his milk.  He still loves his milk, and we still require food before drink, but it's not always a big enough motivator anymore.  My darling firstborn inherited all of the stubbornness of both his parents, and there was much to be had from both sides.  We've more or less settled on a two-bite rule -- "you're two years old, so you need to eat two bites of the offending food" -- but many an evening has seen him still in his high chair at bedtime, not throwing a tantrum or complaining, simply refusing silently to take a bite.   It's gotten worse in the last two weeks, as people from church have been bringing meals (thanks to Silas's birth) and we're seeing more unfamiliar foods.  One meal last week came with a big bowl of zucchini, summer squash, and tomatoes -- all foods, incidentally, that I personall...

Read Part One  here . Okay!  So I left you all hanging at midnight, with everyone in my house (Levi, Owen, Grace, Melanie, Mom, Dad, Isaac, and myself) more or less asleep, except I think my mom, who stayed up all night.  I got about a half-hour's nap in before contractions started to speed up again.  At maybe 1:15am (the times are a little fuzzy from here on out, but close enough), I got back in the birth tub.  I forgot to mention earlier, but any time I was slung over the edge of the tub, Isaac was sitting on a stool behind me, keeping pressure on my back.  It was a long, cold, wet night for him!  (I also added a picture to the first post, if you want to go back and see. ) Anyway, with the increased contractions came an increased urge to push.  Those of you who have read my previous birth stories know that this is my biggest challenge in labor: not pushing before it's time.  Grace came back into the room around 2, maybe 2:30am and said ...

I'm actually a little unsure of where in the pregnancy timeline to start this story.  So much of what took place this week had to do with the course of events over the past month or so, and some of it even farther than that.  Let's see if I can briefly give enough back story . . . My first two sons (you can read Owen's here , and I'll post Levi's on his birthday next month) were pretty standard hospital births.  Both were fairly easy pregnancies and deliveries, with little intervention and no drugs beyond the necessary antibiotics for group B strep and the standard pitocin drip for delivering the placenta.  A sweet friend from church who happens to be a home-birth midwife had been gently trying to persuade me towards a home birth since before my first was born, and given my track record with easy babies, my husband and I decided to give it a try.  We liked the idea of avoiding some of those standard hospital procedures, like the pitocin for placenta, and the r...

I write a lot about my firstborn, Levi.  It's not terribly surprising, I suppose.  Everything about his life is brand new for me; every accomplishment, development, difficulty is the first time I've encountered it in my short journey of motherhood. I certainly don't love my second-born any less, though (and, in fact, I secretly think he's even cuter at 18 months than Levi was)!  I love the way he grins and waves when our eyes meet.  I love how he stops whatever he's doing and says "woof" whenever he hears a dog outside.  I love his infectious giggle and his obsession with belly buttons (mine and his, mostly) and his willingness to ask for help (a trait his older brother does not possess). I have no idea what he's doing here, but I love this picture! Owen regularly asks me to blow on his food (by holding it out and blowing on it himself), whether it's hot or not, but hates to have the wind blowing his hair.  When he particularly enjoys a m...

With a long, unplanned morning stretching out before me, I decided that today would be a good day to try fingerpainting again!  Last time we did this was August, 2011 .  At the time, I thought that Levi's reluctance to touch the fingerpaint was a product of his compulsiveness; even now, nine months later, he still asks to have his hands cleaned off in the middle of a meal before he'll pick up his milk cup.  He was totally fine with the paint, though, and it was Owen who was less than thrilled about touching it.  So perhaps it's more of an age thing?  (On the other hand, Owen is seven months younger than Levi was when we painted last summer, so I don't know if that's it . . . ) I used the  same recipe as last time , though I didn't remember at the time that it was the same recipe.  It turned out better this time around, though -- I instinctively took the saucepan off the heat sooner, and the end result was a much smoother product.  I also made si...