Ingress T-Shirt Designs

You like? Tell me you want one here. 

Simple, sophisticated, cooler.

Yesterday I decided to update the look of our medium sized red Igloo cooler. It was very easy, and looks so much nicer.

After masking the white top and handle with blue painter's tape and cardboard, I used Rustoleum 2X spray paint/primer in a warm tan color. Did two coats and a spray clear coat, then wrapped the handle in jute. We had a cutting board already that wedges perfectly between the handles for easy carrying, but if you can't find one, just cut one down to size.

I might paint a monogram or icon or something on it but for now, I'm enjoying the fresh neutral look!

Sins of a Mother

Forgive me, everyone, for I have sinned.

I have given cookies with dinner,

I have given cookies for dinner.

I have popped bottoms,

I have shouted shitty words,

I have occasionally ignored cries for help both figurative and literal.

I have indolently idolized my iPhone and poured too-hot gossip into little pitchers’ big ears.

I have snapped thousands of pictures of my cherubs in adorably embarrassing situations and stored them in the cloud for future humiliation.

And lastly, I have led my children and myself to believe we are the most amazing, intelligent, important persons on the planet, when deep within, I know this to be thoroughly unprovable and highly unlikely, and when they discover the truth, they will begin to descend the timeworn spiral staircase of I Hate My Mom.

For these and all the sins I can’t remember, because I am always somewhat sleep deprived, I am sorry. I have forgiven myself, and I cling like a baby sock to a chenille blankie to the hope that you truly are too young and loving to remember any of this.

DIY Personalized Toy Box

This week I started (and finished) a craft project I've been thinking about for a while now. I made the girls a personalized toy box. It was easier to complete and turned out nicer than I expected, so I'm sharing a basic how-to. 

The reason it was so easy is that IKEA sells a $15 toy chest with a wooden frame that's a perfect blank canvas for any room theme you might want to match. Mine was going in my living room so I actually used leftover red paint from my accent wall. I also like that the box has no hinges to pinch little fingers, and is lightweight enough for my two-year-old daughter to easily open. It's great for hiding and organizing toys. And now... the DIY stuff.

That's it! Of course, it really helps that I am fantastic at hand lettering, but if you have a vinyl letter cutter or access to any craft store like Michael's that sells vinyl letters you'll be in good shape. I'm really proud of this toybox project. My older daughter requested that I paint a rocking horse on it, which inspired the front quote. I just came up with the rest of it. 

#toybox #DIY #customized #personalized #kids #gifts #organizing #toys #toystorage

Eaves Drop

I present for you a piece of one side of an overheard phone conversation, overheard in a doctor's waiting room, ca. 2009.

The night my horse died, I cried myself to sleep. A guy from Comporium came out with a backhoe so we could bury him.

Riding him, it was relaxing. My brother wrote a song when his dog died - Taylor. I told him, "Write a song," and next day, he did it. "Stranger Living In My House." In my Elks magazine I saw a story, "Where Shall I Bury My Dog?"

Sorry, folks: that's all I heard.

All I Really Want Is Girls

I cannot relate to people who deliberately choose to leave their child’s gender for a delivery room surprise. As agonizingly long and mysterious as pregnancy seemed to me, turning one’s back on insider information made possible by scientific advances seems quaint and backward, like Amish people. It’s like saying, “Although you are offering me the opportunity to see gorgeous undiscovered stars with your fancy new telescope, I prefer to let the mystery be.” That horse-and-buggy lifestyle may work for you, but meanwhile I’ll be over here posting my kid’s gender on Facebook using my iPhone. 

The revelatory ultrasound happened the day before Thanksgiving. In that tense moment of truth, I recall being 100% sure I wanted the fetus to be female and only about 20% guilty for having a strong preference. My husband took the diplomatic “I don’t care as long as it’s healthy” stance. When all was made clear by the telltale W and the technician assured us she had gotten a really good view and it was a lock that we were having a girl, I couldn’t stop grinning. I realized I was going to be able to enjoy the pregnancy more knowing that I wouldn’t have to wonder how the hell to clean baby shit from a tiny, stubby penis – about which I would also not have to make a circumcision decision.

Any fleeting daydream in which I’d ever starred as “Mom” had featured a tiny copy of me, which would of course be a girl. Charlie held true to his original premise of “whatever” on the gender front with only an occasional wistful aside. Any son of ours would doubtless grow up steeped in music, technology, and pop culture but the idea of him tossing a pigskin with dear old dad struck us both as highly unlikely and slightly scary.

When we decided to have a second kid, and faced a second ultrasound the tables were suddenly, immediately turned. I had gone into this pregnancy cheerfully chirping, “Whatever, I got mine” and Charlie was clearly pulling for “one of each.” This being a binary decision, it was winner-loser time, and Team Pink was 2 for 0.

As we made our fourth major life decision together (marriage, one kid, second kid, no more kids) it became evident that all was not completely rosy in Daddyland. I made an effort to downplay the three to one ratio in our household: choosing carseats and diaper bags in gender neutral colors, mixing in the occasional train set or Nerf gun amid purchases of Barbies and stuffed unicorns. 

But none of that changed the fact that he was living with a loss that I didn’t share. When Camden has friends over, we both marvel over the boy that eats four slices of pizza to her two, and the way the decibel level multiplies exponentially when you throw guys into the mix. It’s clear to me, however, that his observations are fringed with regret.

Like every blow you’re dealt, like every unhoped for outcome you can’t change, I assume his discomfort will lessen over time. I can only watch from the sidelines as he deals with it in his own private way. 

The second kid

She didn't arrive by accident. Years of discussion preceded our decision to try to make another baby. Camden had been such a roaring success, such an easy and clever child, fitting right into our lives and laps with such positive energy and enthusiasm. My pregnancy and delivery had been by all measures a breeze (thank you, inventor of the epidural). I was afraid of doing it all again with unpredictable results. Finally we decided we were ready to trade in our "perfect" family and take a gamble on a new configuration.

Laurel turned out to be the best idea ever. Camden wanted - no, deserved - a little sister, and nine days before her sixth birthday, we delivered a tiny bright-eyed wisp of a sis. Camden was willing to share anything with the new baby, from beloved toys to birthday parties. She was by turns gentle, motherly, stern, silly with little Laurel - essentially, everything but jealous.

Now that she's almost a year and a half, some of Camden's hand-me-down traits are apparent in Laurel, such as blonde hair and strong verbal skills. But Laurel's her own imp. She has a quicker temper and will physically lash out if denied. Her curiosity compels her to raid cabinets, empty tissue boxes, explore Mom's purse, and snatch interesting toys and electronic devices.

For the record, there won't be a third kid here. For our family, two is a magic number. But many's the night I have lain awake curled beside a softly sleeping Laurel, loving her little sniffable head and trying to imagine being happy never having known her. Sometimes when you bet, you win bigger than you hoped for.