Good Clean Fun

"To be an artist means to never avert one's eyes." -Marcus Claudius Marcellus

Thing 1 and Thing 2 are into painting right now. I bought a cheap set of watercolors for their Easter baskets and now they ask to paint all the time. I’m tired of cleaning clothes, brushes, paint, table, chairs and kids, not to mention finding a good spot for the mountain of wet papers. So thanks to the never-ending knowledge of the internet, I found a recipe for DIY bathtub paint as follows: 1/3 c. clear liquid soap (They have sensitive skin so I opted for Johnson & Johnson’s Baby Wash), 1 Tb. cornstarch and a few drops of food coloring.

Honestly, I haven’t tried the exact above recipe. After telling them about making bathtub paint, I discovered we were out of cornstarch so I substituted with baking powder. Is that good or bad? Well, it turned out to foam up a bit but after a few stirs we had a bathtub goop similar to Gak (remember that stinky weird substance that was only fun because of the disgusting noises it made). These little princesses weren’t about to touch the “gloopey gloop”. Thing 1 and Thing 2 won’t even lick their own chocolate covered fingers. Weird, I know. But with art brushes in hand, the tub walls were suddenly covered in blue slashes.

Thank you, Internet. Now I can sit for a minute and drink hot coffee from a ceramic mug (not lukewarm coffee in a travel mug).



You miss a lot of wonderful art if nudity is censored. :)



A Little Slice of Happy Chaos

Last night after dinner, The Big Sister decided to practice saxophone for an upcoming Fine Arts Fair. She hasn’t played for about a year but decided that she’d perform a few solos in mid-May. That kid can do anything. Thing 1 couldn’t be left out so she grabbed her recorder and I gave a tambourine to Thing 2 for good measure. I was scrubbing surfaces and loading the dishes and found myself smiling despite the cacophony of noise. I turned around to find Big Sister focused on her music even though Thing 1 and Thing 2 were doing their best to convince her to let them play her “insta-ment”. I led them to play in the living room so she could practice. Thing 1 decided that if she couldn’t play Big Sister’s sax then she could at least have fun playing along. She pranced (in her just her panties… FYI, pottying is done in mere seconds at our house) and screeched along to Big Sister’s tune. She is 2 (almost 3) and it wasn’t that annoying, considering she was playing a recorder. Also stripped down to just a diaper (Monkey see, Monkey do), Thing 2 played the tambourine for all of 30 seconds and tossed it to the floor. Over all the noise, she stood mesmerized in front of the TV though she couldn’t hear it.

Laughing at Big Sister’s flexibility and determination to ignore her sisters, Thing 1’s dancing and musical abilities, Thing 2’s laid back attitude and Thing 1 & 2’s state of undress, I sat back, watched it all and delighted that I had a little slice of happy chaos for dessert. 

Dust in the Wind



The progressive rock band, Kansas, knew about dust in the wind. They wrote a whole song about it.

I close my eyes

Only for a moment and the moment's gone

All my dreams

Pass before my eyes with curiousity.

I particularly identify with this part of the song. For the last two weeks (when it's not raining), I've attempted to drag Thing 1 & Thing 2 outside to play in the yard. We moved to our homestead this January so we've not really enjoyed our yard yet. Fighting cold temperatures and flood-like conditions, we've spent far too much time indoors but the worst culprit of all is WIND.

Most everyone enjoys balmy breezes but the door-wrenching-hair-whipping-toy-blowing-hoodie-snatching-picnic-ruining wind can stir up a storm of irrational anger in me in a blink of an eye.

Thing 1 and Thing 2 also have a mutual dislike for the wind. First of all, they wake excited by the deceiving sunshine so they can enjoy spring activities like blowing bubbles, drawing with sidewalk chalk and picking dandelions. But when I have to hang onto our storm door with a death grip and a gust of wind threatens to knock them down before they step onto the patio, they slowly back out of the doorway and start to take off their shoes and jackets. We've resorted to blowing bubbles in the kitchen, playing in sand on a plastic tablecloth (so not worth the effort) and playing ball in the house. I didn't enjoy bringing the outdoors in so I put the those things back outdoors. To spice up playime, I bought a bag of balloons. Surprisingly, a whole bag of balloons has lasted over a week without being noisy, messy or destructive. Still, balloons are no consolation for playing outside!

I know wind has a purpose but I still hate it because wind...

• Ruins perfectly sunny days by chilling you to the bone.
• Makes me paranoid in parking lots that my door will fly open and ding the car next to me.
• Causes difficulties during track practice for Big Sister. It's hard enough without competing with the wind.
• Knocks over trash bins. Empty or full it's still annoying.
• Damages trees and possibly our roof (fingers crossed)
• Fuels grass fires.
• Dries out my eyes.
• Blows dirt, leaves and debris everywhere.

Most all, I hate wind because it makes me feel small and inconsequential like dust in the wind.

FUN FACT: Kansas was my first concert at Tulsa, Oklahoma's MayFest. I went with my mom, my mom's friend and her daughter. I was 15 & screamed, "Kansas Rules!" at the most inapproriate, quiet moments just to be annoying. It was pretty boring after Dust in the Wind so I spent most of the time laughing at beer sloshing, weirdo concert goers. Good times.

Confession: I can be rude.

As a stay-at-homer, my adult conversations are limited. It’s awfully disappointing that most of my adult conversations are peppered with rudeness. It’s to the point that I feel like outfitting my kids in matching tees reading, “Please don’t ask my mom rude questions and/or make rude observations.”

It wouldn't be effective but at least the general public would be forewarned before I unleash the pent up rage I have in regards to impolite, pointless questions.

“Are you going to try for a boy?”

We have 4 girls. We obviously tried. Don’t you think? Furthermore, what’s wrong with girls?

“Don’t you know how you get babies?”

Obviously, we are competent in this area. Thanks for noticing.

“How are you going to manage 4 kids?”

A minivan, lots of coffee, naps and wine. I think I read that in a parenting book. No, wait I just made that up. Oh, well, sounds good to me.

“This one doesn’t look like you.”

Wow, I appreciate you taking the time to notice our genetic differences. Did you have a reason to point this out? Because I can assure you she’s mine.  See the whole birth process is pretty unpleasant so that you’ll remember which kid is yours.

“You look tired.”

I am so I guess it’s a good thing that I can convince others of my exhaustion. Maybe it’s necessary to look tired so that others will leave me alone so I can sleep.

Now that I’ve unloaded what I really want to say when I’m asked the same rude questions over and over again, perhaps I can continue to grin and bear it. I can’t guarantee that though.

Confession: I'm not so brainy.

 I have a tendency to think of myself as intuitive rather than cerebral. This last Sunday, I unintentionally proved this idea. 

Over spring break, Lexi spent the week with an Evansville friend and her family in Destin, FL. After church, Emmi, Livi & I trekked the 2 ½ hours to Evansville to pick her up. We chatted with our friends for a bit, had a restroom break, grabbed some snacks then headed back to Brownstown. Notably missing, I didn’t double check a map. My cop out answer could be “that’s Paul’s job” (since I humbly admit that I am a better passenger than navigator) but he wasn’t there to blame so I’ll just chalk it up to relying too heavily on my intuition.

Somehow by spiritedly talking to Lexi, pulling over for a carsick toddler and ordering Lexi to wipe noses, pass out drinks/snacks and hunt for lost toys (the poor thing has to take over my duties when I’m the lone driver), I managed to get a speeding ticket. I was speeding but I was being passed by another car at the time which irritated me more. After the hi po slapped a ticket in my hand, I inaudibly muttered curses at him until he zoomed away then we were off. Or so I thought. It took a while but I eventually realized that I missed my turn by 30 miles. In my defense, most Indiana highways look the same and I was headed in the right direction, north, but I forgot that I needed to go east as well.  All my surroundings were familiar so my intuitive side continually argued to my cerebral side that everything was A-OK. Plus, let’s face it. I was not in navigator form. I assumed that I would naturally slip into let’s-go-home mode but I was more focused on keeping everyone comfortable and happy (and they were). At least I did something right.

Anyway after my cerebral side talked some sense into my intuitive side, we made another stop for restrooms and map checking. I found the sanest solution was to back track to an eastward rural highway. Obviously already peeved about the ticket and getting lost, I gave up on being bothered and decided to treat the whole misadventure as if I wanted it to go that way. Not necessarily my exact feelings, but what are you going to do? To be honest, it was a far more picturesque drive and took the same amount of time once you factored out our lost hour. The girls and I discovered more of rural Indiana like Loogootee, IN, the home of Jack Butcher, Indiana’s Winningest High School Basketball Coach. To see that awkward phrase in its entirety on a water tower is unforgettable. We pointed out other interesting sights, shared more stories about our week apart and laughed about our misadventures. Aside from a few hiccups, it was a good road trip.

So maybe my intuition isn’t all that bad, but neither is taking the time to plan carefully. I learned two things from that experience: 1) Pay attention to speed limit signs, especially on boring Indiana highways 2) Despite your best (or not best) effort stuff happens and when stuff happens just roll with it.

Paul added 3) Bring your husband to drive so you can enjoy the trip.

I agree.