Quotes of the day

Quotes of the day (all before 8:30 a.m.)

"Anna, you're an artist of butter! It's like a real painting!" -- Erik, describing Anna's post-pancake breakfast fork and plate art.

"I don't want a walrus for a pet. They're too blubbery." -- Anna

William would have something to say, too, if he wasn't so busy sneaking off to the bathroom to treat his brother and sister's toothpaste and toothbrushes like a sweets' table. Eww. Those candy and fruit flavors are apparently too difficult to resist.

You might be a Lutheran if...

On most Sunday nights, Jamieson makes pizza. He has mastered the art of homemade dough and we have a family love affair with Weyauwega Cheese (and, frankly, anything that comes from the enormous dairy aisle at Woodman's). Last week, the dough wasn't in top form since our yeast apparently died. Yesterday, new yeast did the trick. Jamieson peeked at the dough when we came in from an afternoon of yard work and said, "That dough is really risen." To which I said the only thing a Lutheran girl can say a week after Easter: "It is risen, indeed!"

Looking for the thrill

A few weeks ago, a blog post, titled "Let's Bring the Holidays Down A Notch" caught the eye of many of my friends in Facebook-land because it voiced feelings so many of us have about kids and celebrations. Every last one of us loves doing fun stuff with our families, but the expectations to have Pinterest-worthy holidays and contribute time, money, crafts and/ or food to FUN events at school almost every stinkin' week is a wee bit overwhelming. Now as the Easter-candy hangovers start to wear off, everyone is once again swearing off sweets, toys and projects. Except that June, July and August are coming and it's time to plan a magical, activity filled summer break right now!

Exhausting, isn't it?

The consensus seems to be that we keep over entertaining our kids because we, the parents, love it. We are addicted to that moment when the kids come down the stairs and see what "Santa" left, or the thrill of going to school because it's a party day, or whatever the magic moment of the month may be. Thanks to a highly-commercial culture, the easiest way to get that guaranteed spark of childhood joy is to buy it. Buy a new toy; buy 100 eggs to hide around the house; buy into the idea that every kid needs an Etsy-worthy craft to bring home from the party. The problem is that we parent type have to keep working harder and harder to make these magical moments happen. How do we give them joy -- how do we give ourselves joy -- without creating greedy little monsters and a very empty bank account?

Since seeing that blog post, I've been more conscious of looking for the thrill. I am not gifted in the art of being a hostess, so I will never be able to present my family with any "perfect" celebrations. My children are normal human beings; they would love to have the toys, the parties, the stuff that they know other kids have. On the other hand, they aren't totally jaded yet, and I'm trying to see the moments where they burst with happiness over something simple. Then I can mentally bank those times to remember when our celebration days are more low-key than the events happening in other houses.

So here's what I've got this week. These are moments that are just as good as Christmas morning. In fact, they were unexpected, so maybe they were just a bit better:

• "Baby plants!" I have yet to hear Anna shriek about any present the way she does when spring finally comes and those little green shoots start poking up. I couldn't have hidden an Easter eggs as well as God hides the seeds and bulbs that give her such a thrill this time of year. What's even better is that she's out looking every day and it's just as exciting to see a new plant grow taller as it is to see its first peek out of the ground. 



Doing a little gardening:
A broken rake outside is currently more fun for
William than any new toys inside. 

• Bubbles: This morning William and I took a break from putting down mulch and vacuuming out the van to blow some bubbles. There isn't much on earth as cheerful as watching a toddler happily screeching and chasing bubbles. Since he hasn't figured out how to blow bubbles without my help, I think I'm getting points for doing something pretty amazing. 
• "Cool." The reason my kids hate shopping with me is my tendency to seek out every clearance item in a store. I have three growing kids, so buying a $3 off-season, too-big shirt makes a lot of sense to me. The payoff, beyond the pocketbook, is sometimes finding just the right item to get a smile. Yesterday I happened upon a cheap, red (large) T-shirt. It was goofy: marshmallows on a cocoa mug jumping in and shouting, "Cannonball!" Red and silly seemed a perfect buy for Erik. I put it on his bed and told him later in the day to take a peek at what I found for him. He did, laughed and said, "Cool." It was a simple, but honest reaction. The odds of getting joy from a clothing purchase when a Christmas or birthday present is involved are minimal, but I had a moment of satisfaction for being able to clothe my oldest child in a way that made him happy. 

So, there you have it. Nothing spectacular. Nothing to rock the Internet with my profound insights on parenting. And yet enough simple joy of getting it right as a mom, for just a moment, by being with them and seeing what makes them happy. (For cheap!!!)