We didn’t break Amelia

Phew.  Because on Friday, we thought we might have.

Amelia came home from school and refused to walk, stand, or put any weight at all on her left leg.  Two urgent care clinics and a pediatric orthopedic specialist later, we’ve seen some cool x-rays of our daughter’s hips, legs and knees, and we’ve learned some new vocabulary: Transient synovitis.

Did she hurt her hip
falling off this bike?

It’s not serious – basically a virus that settled in her hip joint, causing inflammation. Painful but temporary, and the cure is a few days of Advil.  She’s back at school today and mostly back to normal.  But all weekend until we had a firm diagnosis, we worried. And felt guilty.  For what, you ask? Everything. First of all, we didn’t believe her. How could she have been fine all day and then, with no injury, suddenly become immobilized? Clearly she just wanted to be carried, right?  We thought she was just being lazy, and told her so.  We tried to trick her into walking.  We waited two hours before going to urgent care, we were so sure this wasn’t real.  Oy, the guilt.

And then, on the advice of our pediatrician, we took her in for x-rays.  What? Checking for broken bones?  How could our precious baby have broken a bone without anybody noticing an injury?   More guilt.  She’s out of our sight in preschool.  Is there enough supervision there?  She fell on her bike a week ago – could she have had a fracture all week and we didn’t notice?  Oh, how stoic she must be and how guilty we must be! I considered homeschooling.

Not fun in urgent care

Fun in urgent care

Seriously, this is the stuff that goes through my head in the middle of the night.  While sitting in urgent care.

Well, no break.  No injury.  No reason for guilt.  No need to homeschool. A head cold a month ago settled in her joint and for a few days she had a bum hip and got to satisfy her inner princess by requesting that we fetch things and carry her around…all 52 pounds of her.

hard at work

Once the drama was over, we entertained ourselves with a few days of sitting still projects. You know, to fill the time left in between me obsessively asking Amelia whether her hip hurt every time she moved.  Filled with residual guilt and general overprotectiveness, I planned projects to fill our days together at home.  But the most fun we had? Totally driven by Princess Bum Hip.  While I ran around in an overcompensating frenzy, Amelia picked up a pair of scissors left on the table and an abandoned ad from our lawn care service. She started cutting.  And she asked for glue.  And yarn.  I offered help, and she declined.  I asked what she was making, and she wouldn't answer.  She intently cut and glued for about 15 minutes, and then proudly presented me with a collage, of a woman with long hair and yarn fingers reaching for a perfectly triangular slice of watermelon on a table.  She knew exactly what she was doing and how to do it.

In an instant, Amelia's recent insistence that "I can do it myself" was proven. I may need to carry her once in a while, but I don’t need to watch her every minute.  

I hope she won’t break if I don’t.

Woman reaching for a snack on a table. Do you see the watermelon in her hand?

Trying a New View

Amelia in the hammock.
It's hard to take a photo of
yourself in a hammock!

I'm writing this post from a hammock in our backyard.

No, I didn’t lock myself out of the house.  And my husband didn’t lock me out either (yet!). I’m just seizing the moment.

It’s gorgeous out, perfect fall Charlotte weather – warm, breezy and dry. Blue skies behind just the right amount of clouds. I can see this because, as I mentioned, I’m in a hammock.

The last time I posted I wrote about slowing down. Not lazing about, that’s not really my style (hammock notwithstanding). But recognizing the opportunities in each day.  I’ve decided to (temporarily) stop worrying so much about my self-imposed and ongoing to-do list, and just enjoy the moment.

In part to prove I could relax, Amelia and I spent almost a week on Cape Cod with my mother, my sister and her family a few weeks ago. And guess what? Relaxation is awesome! Worth 8 hours of airports and driving with an impatient four-year-old. Truly, it was wonderful. My nephews are probably the closest thing Amelia will have to siblings, and giving them – and my brain! – unstructured time to really know each other and play in a sprawling old beach house was just what we all needed. 

This is NOT our project.
But possibly even more fun.
If you hope to be invited back to
a beach house, do not pour
shampoo into the Jacuzzi!

And of course there was a project. This one almost didn’t happen, thanks to a little mishap in the Jacuzzi. A tip: never pour shampoo into a Jacuzzi with the jets running. Completely unrelated to our project, but I was nearly banned from all soap in the beach house.

And this project required soap. You may have seen a photo circulating on Pinterest lately of a kid holding a mound of foam, with a caption about what happens when you put Ivory soap in the microwave.  I’ve seen it enough times that I was curious. So, with three kids fresh from the beach and needing a bath, we figured why not? We had a microwave. In went a bar of Ivory soap.  On a protective paper towel, since the house was a rental.

Woah.
Two cousins and their grandmother,
watching the microwave.

Within 20 seconds, the soap began to expand, growing in every direction into a billowy cloud. At the end of a minute, it had nearly filled the microwave. We were in awe.

We carefully removed the foamy blob, which was pretty hot (I’m not sure why were were surprised by this - we’d just microwaved it!). It cooled quickly then hardened, and then flaked apart into delicate soapflakes. With wet hands, we were able to tear off chunks and mold it like slimy playdough, and then, well, soap made a triumphant and bubble-free return to the Jacuzzi!

One bar of Ivory soap,
60 seconds later.

The project was simple, and surprisingly delightful. Just like so many things we’ve done since my relaxation resolution kicked in. There will be time for work, time for chores, and plenty of time to worry. For now, I’m going to enjoy what I have – a playful and happy family, ideas to pursue, and at last, time for both.

I could get used to the view from this hammock.

Time to Slow Down

24 hours ago

Last night I made Amelia a dress.  No big deal, and actually not a particularly complicated or interesting dress.  As a kid, I imagined that one day I’d make clothes for my future children, like my mother did for me.  Other than a few Halloween costumes – which, full disclosure, my mother helped sew – this hasn’t happened.  I’ve just never had the time, or made the time, or perceived that I had the time.

Halloween 2010

Perception seems to be the key.  I’ve been "between jobs" for just over a week, and despite the high unemployment rate and statistically long average job searches, I’ve been running around like a crazy person doing everything I’ve ever said I’d do if I only had time, as though this time will end any minute and all opportunity to reorganize the pantry will be gone.  Yup, I reorganized the pantry. I also designed notecards, led a storytime, painted frames, made 12 aprons and 2 puppet theatres, wrote a proposal, applied for a job, went to an amusement park, got my car serviced, cooked, cleaned and caught up with the laundry.  All with equal urgency, and this is only a partial list.

So yesterday I received an invitation to interview TODAY for that job I applied for.  What?  Already?  In a panic, I had to make Amelia a dress.  You know, because I’d surely be employed again by this afternoon.

Are you wondering what happened?  Where to send the potted plant for my new office?  Or laughing because you know how this will end?  Right, you’re laughing.

Because with only six days between me and my last job, in the midst of a whirlwind of projects only a true overachiever could conjure, I’m in no shape to interview.  Not only because my interview suit doesn’t fit (it doesn’t).  Because I have no perspective.  I’m still too close to my last job to figure out what I’ve learned and how to describe it in a way that makes the experience valuable to a potential employer.   Until I have enough distance to look back with some objectivity, I sound like a rambling crazy person.  You know, the kind of crazy person who might spend every waking hour creating and completing a lifetime of to-do lists.

Needless to say, I do not expect a second interview.  So keep the potted plants for now.  There will be time for that later.  Really, there will.  And in the meantime, I’m going to slow down, drink a latte, gain some perspective, figure out what I want, and maybe make Amelia a more interesting dress. But this time I’ll enjoy it.  Quick, add that to the list!

Fit to Frame

A few nights ago, Amelia was playing with two princesses and their toy castle.  Were they having a playdate? Dreaming of princes? Battling evil queens? Nope, they were redecorating.  Snow White was lamenting to Cinderella that she had to find room in the castle for all her pictures, because her job would soon be done.

What?

It makes perfect sense.  And proves once more that everything I do is recorded, with telling translation, in that little red-haired head. You see, I finished my full time job today. So for the last few weeks, I’ve been stripping my office of the personal items that have adorned it.

A year ago, I moved this same office décor from my last job to this one, trying to recreate the comfort and familiarity I was leaving.  It didn’t work, the space never felt right. In hindsight, the office looked great and it was me that didn’t fit, but I made a valiant effort. I hung the pictures, did the work, smiled most of the time, but never really felt comfortable.  A friend recently described the office culture at her new job, and how easily and naturally she was finding her place in it.  She just knew, on her first day, that she was where she belonged. Listening to her, I had to accept that fit can’t be forced, and it was time for me to move on and move out.  With my office knick knacks.

This transition is a good thing, well timed and well planned. But change and uncertainty make me nervous.  Some people thrive on it, and I like to pretend I do too – until it’s here, and I catch myself frenetically organizing everything in my control, to compensate for all that isn't in my control.  This time Amelia caught me, urgently finding places for all those office items that will drive me crazy in an unsettled pile.  They must be where they fit, and so must I.

http://farm5.static.flickr.com

At least in the short term, I’m setting up shop at home – working on my Etsy store, doing some freelance writing, and enjoying the luxury of more family time.  And I’m turning my energy toward feeling at home while I’m there.  My home office needed a whiteboard, because if there’s one thing a newly unemployed person with a compulsion for control has, it’s a lot of lists!  I love turning something old into something new, and I remembered a pinterest project.  

Making the board was easy.  I chose an old frame, one of many ornate antiques I collected a lifetime ago for my first single gal apartment.  Instead of chalkboard paint, I used dry erase paper, which is similar to contact paper, and adhered it smoothly to the frame’s glass.  The glass is already a perfect fit, and makes a nice writing surface. Two quick drying coats of glossy spraypaint later, the frame shows no trace of its formerly gilded self.  I put the glass back in, attached some picture hanging wire, and left the room to get a hammer and nail to hang my new board.  

Voila!  And when I returned, this is what I found:

  

In a flash, my whiteboard wasn’t mine anymore. Without careful planning, I realized that my home office tools will quickly become Amelia’s office toys.  And unless she’s doing something unsafe, I’m not sure why I should stop this practice.  She was writing on the whiteboard, spelling her name, my name, notes to herself.  Exactly what it’s for, and what she sees me doing. I promised to make her one this weekend.  A bigger one, in any color she chooses. We have a huge frame from the closeted stash all picked out, and we’ll hang it in the playroom.  The more I think about it, the more I like this idea.  I may make a few extras, using masonite instead of glass, and put them on Etsy.  Why shouldn’t kids be able to draw on a whiteboard in an over-the-top fancy frame, giving their artwork the presence it deserves? 

I hung my new board, and it fits.  And the to-do list continues to grow, with projects like this one that exude possibility and opportunity, and engage me in work I’m proud to have Amelia emulate. 

Oh, and one more to-do item…the princesses will surely need a whiteboard too. 

Our Neighbors Gave Us Their House

No, we don’t live in a zip code where people own more real estate than they can visit in a year.  But we do live on a street full of families. With kids older than Amelia.  Who outgrow cool stuff right as Amelia grows into it.

When Amelia was a toddler, our neighbors had a block party for all the kids, and the highlight of their backyard was their daughters’ brand-new playhouse.  Amelia was barely walking, and some of our earliest photos of her standing up were taken in that little house, clutching the windowsill for support, all proud and independent.

Fast forward four years. The neighbors’ kids no longer play with the house and they have other plans for the space it occupies.  The house has been neglected for at least a year or two.  Let’s just say it’s become, well, not so fresh.  And the neighbors were wondering how to get rid of it…at the exact moment that Amelia and I walked by their driveway. 

“Hey, do you guys want a playhouse?” 

Five strong neighbors and a few choice curse words later, the house moved across the street, over a fence, and into our yard.  After I retrieved all the pieces that had fallen off in the middle of the road, here’s how it looked:

My husband was not happy about our new real estate acquisition.  Not in my backyard, he grumbled.  It’ll kill the grass.  It’s hideous.  Now getting rid of it will be our problem.  Is it even safe?  I made every case I could think of – the cost savings over buying a new playhouse, the shared experience of restoring it and making it our own, the lessons in responsibility and carpentry this project holds for Amelia, and well, I always wanted a playhouse when I was a kid and never had one, so can’t we please, please, please keep it?

Right on cue, Amelia ran inside, squealed with delight, and that was our closing argument.  We got to work.

This was one of those projects that, in all honesty, was much more exciting to me than it was to Amelia, but I talked her into it.  I’ve long dreamed of building an elaborate treehouse or playhouse together, but my fear of – and lack of – most power tools makes that plan impractical.  This fixer-upper could be our last chance.

First, the house needed a good cleaning.  We removed what may have been a dead animal from the mailbox.  We sprayed away years of cobwebs, dirt, and pollen with the garden hose.  We probably should have used bleach or something, but I didn’t think of that until now.  Anyway, without dirt as a distraction, we assessed the damage:  missing half a door, missing a kitchen sink, missing most hardware, rotted baseboards, broken shelf, faded roof…maybe Jeff had been right. 

But I’d assured my Girl and my Husband that this was a great project, so there was no looking back.  Next we dissected the house, removing anything that looked removeable. 

Since our budget had been grudgingly capped at “as-cheap-as-possible,” we agreed to use up leftover cans of paint and miscellaneous hardware from other projects.  I bought one can of yellow exterior housepaint, but other than that we used what we had.  Amelia’s favorite colors these days include “all the colors of the rainbow,” so we had a plenty to choose from.  She set to work painting – the house, the loose parts, the grass, herself, and everything in between.

Amelia is an exuberant painter, but not a patient one.  She did the first coat and then lost interest.  She was hot, tired, and dirty.  Jeff rolled his eyes and gave her a bath while I kept painting.  The playhouse had unofficially become my project, and I had to finish it.  My pride was on the line.

I wish I could say that this turned out to be the family bonding project I’d envisioned, but it wasn't.  I repaired the broken pieces, replaced missing hardware, and finished the painting.  And I learned that Extreme Playhouse Makeover is too much to ask of a four-year-old. 

But happily, Extreme Playhouse Accessorizing was just Amelia’s speed.  Here’s what we did together:

• ·      Found and fit the perfect mixing bowl to serve as a kitchen sink
• ·      Chose the number 4 (her number) as the address and nailed it in
• ·      Made chalkboards for the outside and drew on them
• ·      Painted and hung pictures on the inside walls
• ·      Hung lights for nighttime play
• ·      Planted flowers
• ·      Hung sparkly curtains
• 
  

So, now that the house is ready for play, is it the hottest destination in the neighborhood again?  Um, yes…and no.  It’s hot alright. It's REALLY hot in Charlotte.  Too hot for much of anything in the backyard. So the house is currently vacant, if no longer abandoned.

I can’t wait until fall.  In the meantime, I think I may add a ceiling fan…

From Here to There

I started this blog and then didn’t post anything for a month. What’s up with that, you may wonder? Changes are afoot.

The first change is that Charlotte Parent magazine is now hosting A Crafty Mess! That’s right, a real live publication likes this little blog! I feel like Sally Field at the 1985 Academy Awards. It’s taken a few weeks to get things up and running with Charlotte Parent, and figure out what goes there and what goes here, so…there was a lull. But I’m back, and full steam ahead.

So what goes where? This may change over time, but for now I’ll be posting twice a month at Charlotte Parent’s website about specific projects to do with kids, and what Amelia and I have learned by trying them first. I’ll still post some of that here as well, but this site will be broader…remember those changes afoot?

About that. I’m planning for a career transition later this summer, which will probably lead to more time at home and less time in an office, at least in the short term. This is a tipping of the scales in a direction I haven’t experienced before, but have long assumed I’d prefer. Mommy Wars, anyone?  Grass is always greener moment or dream come true? I’m about to find out. Amelia and I will soon discover whether Mostly-Home-Mama really cooks, cleans, organizes, manages, volunteers, exercises, cuddles, smiles, bandages, puts little notes in lunchboxes, prepares healthy homemade snacks, reads and crafts as much as Work-Like-A-Fiend-Mama thought she would. The spirit of the blog is the same, but the detours may take a new, even more interesting detour!

I’m excited for the journey and I hope you’ll come along. One foot in front of the other.

Baking Soda...It’s Not Just for Baking

Amelia is obsessed with baking soda.

our croup cakes smell better than they look.

And really, why wouldn’t she be? It’s arguably the most versatile and mysterious product in the pantry. Her introduction to the stuff was early and personal – after trying every ointment in the drugstore diaper rash aisle, we resorted to making our own. The concoction worked wonders, and I’m convinced the magic ingredient was baking soda. To this day, if she has a hint of a rash anywhere on her body, she gets the baking soda and adds it to the bathtub herself, soft powder sprinkling through her fingers like fairy dust.  This week, baking soda in the bath got a new twist when we made these little croup cakes which, by the way, sort of helped. Not that the croup is gone, but I’d hate to think about where we’d be without croup cakes. I’ll save that for another post.

Given her lifelong affinity, I knew my girl would go for a kitchen chemistry project starring our favorite powder.  I found this gem, a preschool version of the classroom volcano eruption, on pinterest a few months ago and was saving it for a rainy day.

It's a pretty basic chemistry experiment illustrating the reaction you get by mixing acids and bases. There’s a scientific explanation for why and how it works, if you care, but we don’t particularly care. The original pinner claims it occupied her 2-year-old for an hour and her 4-year-old for two hours.  Now THIS I care about. I’ve always thought Amelia had a pretty good attention span for a kid, but 2 hours? No way.

Way.

no shopping required!

Scarred by memories of science fairs gone bad, I prepared for the worst – an explosion that would leave my kitchen reminiscent of Pompeii. I contemplated moving the whole thing outside, but there was that rainy day problem, so I settled for a protective lining of newspaper across the kitchen table. The ingredients were simple and didn’t require any trips to the store, so we were off to a great start: baking soda, vinegar and food coloring.

First, we spread the baking soda in a baking dish.  We used a glass pan because it seemed safer, and beakers in a real laboratory are glass. It seemed logical at the time. Anyway, we put about an inch or so of baking soda in the pan. You can use more or less, just cover the bottom of the dish. Amelia was happy just spreading the baking soda around, probably wondering if there would be enough left for a bath later.

Next, we poured white vinegar into four sections of a cupcake pan, and added a drop of food coloring to each, creating a limitless vinegar palette. 

Finally, the fun part. The pinterest pinner suggests using an eyedropper to drop colored vinegar on the baking soda. Of course we don’t have an eyedropper in the house. A medicine syringe worked just fine, and thanks to a daily dose of allergy meds, Amelia was surprisingly adept at using it. File that under "things i didn't know my kid could do."

Anyway, drumroll please…it fizzes! Not the explosion I mentally prepared for, but the fizzing was immediate, pretty, made a cool crackling sound, and completely delighted Amelia. She dropped colored vinegar on baking soda, and it fizzed. Again. And again. And then some more. She was able to do this entirely herself, which made her proud and me a spectator. Once every grain of baking soda was vinegar-soaked, Amelia found new things to try. She mixed colors to make rainbows. She discovered that the vinegar colors mix, but underneath, the baking soda stays white. She dug around with the syringe to find dry, still-fizzable baking soda. We poured off the vinegar on top and started over a few times. And finally, we had mud. 

As advertised, this occupied Amelia for over an hour, until we ran out of vinegar. Incredibly, she wanted more. We raided the pantry for backup supplies and came up with cider vinegar. Turns out the brownish cider vinegar takes food coloring surprisingly well, but  WOW it smells bad. Which prompted the grand finale. No more measured teaspoonfuls carefully dispensed. What would happen if we poured ALL the stinky vinegar on top of the baking soda all at once? We were giddy with anticipation.

Here it comes...what's going to happen?

Like the end of the fireworks on the Fourth of July, this project finished in a blaze of glory.  There was major crackling and fizzing and bubbling and colors mixing.  And then it was over. 

The fizz-filled finale

So, would we do it again? Absolutely. With a few variations:

• Have lots of white vinegar on hand. The smell of cider vinegar is distractingly bad!
• Try a few different kinds of vinegar dispensers - spray bottles, waterguns, droppers in different sizes.
• There really isn't a need for the newspapers, this is a remarkably self-contained mess. Well, maybe if we introduce waterguns...

Just save enough baking soda for bathtime.