Funny word switches

Hadley's vocabulary is growing. And sometimes that means she makes funy mistakes. There were two today. She was talking about how it is hard to look up at the sky when the sun is out and said, "My are so sensible."

Then tonight, the girls got to bed late because of VBS. I snuggled and prayed with Kassy first. When I got to Hadley's bed she asked me, "Did Kassy pass away?" It took me a second to realize that when the girls are really tired we say, "They're going to pass out tonight." Good verb conjugation Hads.

Ramblings

Oh my. I miss blogging. It relaxes my brain. But alas, there isn't time. Soccer is over and dance too. Only gymnastics remains. And we added swim lessons--a summer ritual. But the last lesson was today. And then there is Honduras.

I hadn't realized how crazy it really got around here until we had three nights in a row where I actually cooked and we all sat down together to eat. It had been so long! Even though cooking and the subsequent clean-up top the chart of my least favorite household tasks, I like the peacefulness of being together, playing, eating and not going anywhere with hastily packed sandwiches.

And I love the summer fruit. I love to serve cherries or watermelon or nectarines and then hope for the perfect juicy one. I wish I didn't have to count how many I ate. Oh and the green beans. I like them raw, crisp and snappy. Hadley and I are counting the leaves on the bean plants in the garden. And personally, I am hoping not a single one gets ripe before our return in mid-July. I know I can't even hope for such luck with the peas. And last night we had our first garden salad. The peppers and cuke where from the store of course. But the spinach (two kinds), Swiss chard, lettuce, and romaine--from the back yard. I think they got enough water this year to not taste bitter. Simple pleasures.

And preparations? A week left. The shots and meds are taken care of. All of the girls in the family are sporting new, shorter styles in preparation for 105 degrees but I haven't time to post a picture yet. The luggage is open and stacks of things are accumulating to insert. Neighbors and friends are in place for watering the garden, mowing the lawn, housesitting, fish feeding--but the instructions have yet to be given. The newspaper has been stopped. I still have a list of things to buy at Walmart: anti-diarrhea meds, more potent bug spray, something for bug bites (Bite Off I'm told is the best..but where do I find it?), packets of electrolytes in case of dehydration, and some gluten-free treats for Kass. Oh and then there is an article that needs to be finished. An article that is killing me because the pieces won't come together per editor's orders and the "experts" won't call me back. But one by one things get checked off.

I am hoping to avoid a last minute panic. If only everyone here would stop eating and getting things dirty starting oh let's say tomorrow, it would all be so easy. I should just make rules---Sit still all day, don't even think about fighting and absolutely no mess making. Oh and please just eat for pretend. I don't have time to cook and clean up the mess of real food. Those are reasonable, right?

Off Beat

We can't find our summer groove. The weather is too cold. We still need long-sleeve shirts or jackets until about 11 am. The girls are fighting. And I am resisting, trying to avoid the necessary discipline and coordination that comes with the three of us being home all day.

Summer works best at my house if it is planned, coordinated and not left as a free-for-all. I've done it before, but this summer is the first time both girls just finished some level of school. And the differences between the girls are pronounced this year. Hadley can read chapter books and will spend 45 minutes after a trip to the library absorbing a new tale. Many of her favorite activities include writing a plan or making lists. The world of reading and writing doesn't make much sense to Kassy after listing the fifteen words she can read.

I know how to handle all this. It involves stopping what I am doing, putting the laundry down, the groceries on the floor, the cooking away and supervising. Hads can read to Kassy who will happily listen. Hads can write down stories that Kassy dictates or illustrates. I know teaching siblings to care for each other and to get along doesn't happen by accident.

Here's my goal schedule. I make one each year. Usually by the end of the summer we follow it with less frequency, but recording it holds me accountable. (for the record I've gotten up three times since starting this post to intervene in the sister feuds). So, the schedule:
Wake up, at a natural time (aka no alarm clock)
eat, get dressed, make beds, put PJs away
Do a chore: put away laundry, sweep, pick up sticks, etc. Summer is my time to teach new tasks as each year we expect the girls to do a bit more work around the house.
Either watch 30 minutes of TV, pack for swim lessons, or play. I've designated Tuesday and Thursday as no screen days--meaning no TV or computer all day.
Lesson time for at least 45 minutes: the next few weeks we will focus on writing and Spanish. We'll do math when we return from Honduras. I really believe summer break is a disadvantage academically unless you make it otherwise--you know, fill in the gaps, teach the things they don't learn at school, reinforce concepts.
Lunch
playtime
At 3 pm. We all go to separate rooms for quiet time for an hour. No sleeping required. But we all need a break.
From 4 on, there is no plan.

And then there are the messes. Being home all the time creates messes. It seems everywhere we go requires a bag: for snacks, water bottles, sunscreen, snacks, maybe even a picnic lunch, towels for swimming, bug spray. The necessary gear for summer gets thrown in a bag, bits get left in nooks in the car and thrown on a table or the ground upon entry to the house. I can either clean up the messes myself (bad choice) or make the girls do it. Both take discipline and a good attitude.

Soccer season and end-of- the-school-year activities wore me down. I feel exhausted and tired of being on the go. Hopefully after this weekend, the house will be restored to some order and the groove of summer will arrive (with some warm weather please!). Summer is fun, but as a mom, it takes discipline since the natural routine of the school year is lost. But I know it's good. At this house, summer won't be an end to learning, the subjects will just change.

And now, I need to go find the sleeping bags and pads and make certain the portable DVD is charged. I promised the girls we could have our first sleepover in the treehouse tonight. We made jello jigglers (sugar-free) and popcorn. We rented a movie. I'm not sure how much sleep I will actually get, but it will be a memory and hopefully the first of many treehouse sleepouts!

Tidbits

I'm back. My friend's wedding in Colorado was perfect. I cried and cried I was so happy for her ( to those non-criers out there--please note: all strong emotions, even anger, make me cry--it is as annoying as it sounds!). I felt like a proud mama, beaming with pleasure at how she is living her life and excited about the wonderful man she married. I wish I had a picture to share, but I left the camera here, on purpose. Above you see one thing I've been up to. My yard is small, and trees around here are so old, there isn't much sun. Hence, my 4'x25' garden. I use the square foot gardening method which I love. It looks so organized. And even though it doesn't matter, I grew most of the tomato and pepper plants from seeds this year. I love being in control of the entire process so I know the whole history. Maybe I'll start using my own seeds too.

And Tom, when he isn't coaching soccer or teaching, is working on that tree house. Since the last picture I posted, it has gained shingles, a deck, a ladder and a door. All that's left on the outside is the siding. We scored a toddler basket ball hoop from the neighbor's garbage and the girls like to play basketball--from the deck of the treehouse!
The above picture is from the spring program at Kempton. Kassy's preschool class sang cute songs. But in this picture, I mostly admire the lovely jump. See those pointed feet? I guess she learned something in ballet.
Kassy graduated from preschool a week and a half ago. Here she is walking the bridge to Kindergarten. Her teacher put on a fancy show complete with gowns and the cake below. Next to the cake is Kassy's plate of gluten and dairy-free cupcakes. Orange-vanilla flavor. Yum.
Last weekend was Kassy's ballet recital. I still don't approve of all the money parents pour into those things. But Kassy did a great job. She remembered her dance and for once she smiled big on stage instead of looking so somber. And gosh did those girls look adorable.


Ok, here's why I left the camera at home this weekend. Hadley and Tom had a big soccer tournament, see the team above. They had a tough schedule. A game at 8 am, 11am and noon. We knew the noon game could be a tough team; we hadn't anticipated the 11 am being a tough team. I had to leave for the airport after the 11 am game and I knew when I left that our team needed to win the last game of the morning by two to advance to the semifinals. They only won by one, which meant we tied with another team. Because both our team and the other one scored the same number of goals in the morning games, they had to look had how many goals were scored against us. For us, it was zero. Our team advanced to the semifinal. I was on a flight to Denver. We won the semi final round (5pm) and took the final game (7 pm)into double overtime. A goal in the last minute of the second overtime prevented a kick off. And yes, this year, Tom and Hads won. But I think Tom was more excited than Hads. Upon my return, one of the moms told me she didn't know 8-year-old soccer could be so exciting.

Diabetes Update

EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE. If I stop, when a room is quiet, that's what I hear. In my head, this sound has eclipsed diabetes on the worry scale. Every waking moment of the day---EEEEEEEEE. If I don't think about it, it's tolerable. Problem is, I told my doctor, who sent me to the ENT, who tested my hearing. He told me what I already knew. Tinnitus. They don't know what causes the ringing because it comes from a part of the ear so deep in my head that they can't get it to safely. There is no remedy and no apparent cause. And as long as it is steady and in both ears, which it is, there nothing to worry about as long as I can stay sane.

For me, it's caused some significant hearing lose. I notice it whenever there the room is full of people or whenever the girls try talking to me from the back of the car. I say,"What?" all the time. And it didn't bother me so much until I saw the ENT. Now I think about it too much. Thirty-three is young for hearing loss. What if it gets worse? Another test. Another chance to say, "Lord I will trust you through this, no matter what." I might add, "Please don't let me go crazy."

But you, my dear friends, have walked this path with me for over six months, so you deserve a diabetes update. Insulin is good. My blood sugars are around 80 first thing in the morning and haven't seen a number over 165 since I started the shots. I don't mind the shot, though I wonder at what point the mental game right before the needle goes in will end. There's always a pause, a moment where I think, ouch, this is crazy. Truthfully it doesn't even hurt--a paradigm that needs changing is all. Those needles are sooo tiny. A good prick with a sewing needle is far more painful.

My numbers are good. My emotions are steady. My eating is ok. It is a lot of work to count carbs : 45g of carbs for breakfast and lunch, 60 g for dinner, 15-30 g for snacks. What kind of carb is it? Because 15 g of juice carb is much riskier than 15 g of orange carb. I eat at too many potlucks, Bible studies, and picnics. It's a guessing game and I'm doing ok--not great. Diabetes might be the one disease where processed food with nutrition labels is a awesome. I should be more careful, plan ahead a bit more. And test more diligently. Always room for improvement.

But I can't wait for my next round of lab tests in August. Now this weekend, I'm off to Colorado for a wedding. My first trip through airport security with needles. Can't wait.

So much to tell you. But first, I promised Amanda an article. Go check out Part I in the food blog.

Things to remember

When I got into the shower this morning, there were four naked Barbies, hanging in strange positions from the towel racks, the soap dish and the faucet. Some were tied with hair bands, others with yarn. And who knows how yarn got into the bathtub? And why are all Barbies, even the mermaid one, always 100% naked? We do have a Barbie swimsuit or two.

My girls rarely get up in the middle of the night to go to the bathroom. But a few nights ago Hadley got up at 2:30 am to go potty. Our upstairs is tiny-- two bedrooms and a landing and lots of wood floor. She woke me up. I had to go potty. Kassy heard us and wanted to know what was going on. I shuffled the girls back to bed and turned around, only to find Tom. Going potty. Of course. It seems that the mere hint of a toilet in the middle of a night causes all of our bodies to need to go.

The dying paper

Here is the living disproof of the old adage that nothing is as dead as yesterday's newspaper... This is what really happened, reported by a free press to a free people. It is the raw material of history; it is the story of our own times. -Henry Steel Commager, preface to a history of the New York Times, 1951

Today is May 25th. In six days, our local newspaper will be in print only three days a week: Thursdays, Fridays, and Sundays. From my vantage point, such a moment is going unnoticed by most people. I dread looking on the Internet for my daily local news. I like the feel of paper. Just like I love my dictionary with the tissue thin pages and the precise definitions. Sure, I can find it all on the Internet, and I guess I will, but I will mourn. And what about all the people in this city who don't have computer access? They may not have been buying the paper anyway, but at least they could if there was a story about their neighbor or family.

The first successful American newspaper was published in Boston in 1704. Hardly a vehicle for free speech, it was subsidized by the colonial government. I love journalism, and I am sentimental for the history it records.

The dwindling of our paper means major staff cutbacks. Some of the reporters, who have been working here for over twenty years are losing their jobs, writing their last columns. Certainly losing a job isn't new in this area. It's been going on for more than a decade, exacerbated by the current economy.

What I mourn isn't so much the great paper. Because really it isn't. There was too much filler from the Associated Press to be great. But the court reporter who has covered crime and trials for a decade will be gone. The reporter whose beat was the school system, around for 13 years, gone. The church beat writer with 23 years of reporting in this city, gone. They were good reporters, not legendary. And more good reporters will be brought in to replace them we're told. But how do you account for the loss of knowledge and of history? You can't.

At the core, though, the shrinking of the newspaper adds to my growing sense that this city is dying. All of the stores and full service groceries have moved out. If you don't work in the medical field, there isn't any place to work. And last week we had the dubious distinction of having housing that had lost the most value in the past year--59% loss so that the median selling price of a house was $30,000. That's on a survey on 134 U.S. cities.

Kids who graduate from college in Michigan, don't return home to this part of the state. Most of them can't find jobs in this state at all---a few find jobs in healthies Michigan cities.

And still residents hold out hope--hope that GM will be the ticket out. I don't think so. The days of barely graduating from high school and getting a great job with awesome benefits working in the car factory are long gone.

I am not generally a pessimist, but a feeling of doom surrounds this place. Life-long residents don't know how different other towns are. And so I keep wondering if the slow death of our newspaper foreshadows a larger death in this place I call home. I hope not. I hope God has other plans.

Activity snuck up on us. Suddenly this year, I am no longer shaking my head at the insane families who rush their kids from activity to activity--we are one of those families. None of this busyness was in my plan. It just happened--a few too many yeses. And I can justify everything we do, and yet, I see the need to sacrifice for the sake of sanity. I have some ideas to make next year better, but the reality is that soccer season will always bring an element of exhausted rushing. If your kids are still toddling, beware of what you commit to. Even if you swear not to be like us, you'll be surprised.

I think May is a useless month for blogging. Every activity has an end of the year shindig and then there is soccer. So around here we have going to soccer, going to gymnastics, going to dance and rehearsals for the recital, going to the poetry reception where Hadley was chosen as a presenter, going to soccer. Here's our schedule this week:
Monday: Mercifully we only have Bible study at our house this night, usually there is soccer too.
Tuesday: 3:30-4:05--homework and snacks, 4:15 Hads to gymnastics, 4:30 leave Hads at gymnastics to go home and finish making dinner, feed Kass, prepare a plate for Hads and get Kass ready for soccer , 5:30 Tom rolls in from riding his bike to work, gulps down about a gallon of water and scoops Kass up and away to soccer game which Hads and I will miss this night, 5:45 pick Hads up from gymnastics, get up prettied up in our dresses, eat in five minutes and leave, 6:20-7:40 poetry reception. Then off to bed go the little ones (yes, without a bath, even though they needed one.)
Tonight and tomorrow there is soccer. It's nice to have a husband who coaches because then I don't have to go to all the practices. Hads is playing in an elite U8 team this year--not because of her skills but because of her dad's coaching skills. She is younger than everyone on the team by 15 months, but she's holding her own and scores a goal a few games again. She isn't fast, but she runs her heart out and is developing some good dribbling moves. After the games I run out to a smoothie place to meet some girlfriends (you better not use busyness as an excuse!).
Friday--No school for the girlies. Kass has soccer practice and we have a party to host that night. So when the kids are in school I try to hold us together--make sure dinner will be ready, do laundry (and this time of year there is a lot it), manage the finances, tutor, and write and article or two. A blessing/curse of Kass's food allergies is that I must always make food from scratch, but then not being able to run to McD's might be a good thing. When there is free time, I don't want to write on the blog---I want to garden. I'll get the tomatoes, beans, beets, herbs in this weekend. I'll need to wait until June for the cucumbers and melon. Living this far north takes patience in the spring.
Saturday is dance class and no soccer because of the long weekend.
Whew. Then hit repeat and we go into next week with a few adjustments and some doctor's appointments too.

My English-teacher heart has been bursting. Each year Hadley's school hosts a district-wide poetry festival. Students in K-12 can submit original poems. I've been reading my girls poems since they could talk. And Hadley, oh joy, wanted to write one for the contest this year. I spent a week reading her different poems from Shel Silverstein to Robert Frost to Langston Hughes and even a bit of Emily. We also found a children's book of poems with all kinds of classics.

When we sat down to write the poem I told Hads the process. First you think of a topic, then you think of a creative way to write about the topic. In kindgergarten, they spent a few weeks working with descriptive words so I reminded her of that and reminded her how a poem looks different from a normal paragraph. She thought briefly and then rattled out the poem. I had vowed to myself that I would stay silent. No suggesting different words or lines from this former editor. I was silent--even when I couldn't figure out how she could possible end this poem. Then, I made her wait two days. We reviewed the poem (teach the writing proces at a young age) to see if she wanted to change any words. I read it out loud to her. She made one change--appropriately changing an its to his. Yes! My baby girl is good with pronouns. I turned in the poem according to all the rules but felt nervous. I thought her poem was really good--but what if the judges thought I had helped. (In 6th grade my science project took second place with a note from the judge saying my parents had helped too much--I, of course, don't remember any help.) But Had's poem was chosen for presentation and she acted so confident up there reading into the microphone. I know I should stop my camera as a video recorder-- then you wouldn't have to strain to hear her so much and I didn't pick a great seat either. I printed the poem below the video so you can follow along.

The reception was fun and Had's best friend and her family came and cheered her on, which was awesome since Tom and Kass were at soccer. Sitting in the auditorium watching the grandparents file in I really missed my family....so here you go grandmas. Enjoy!

I Am
by Hadley Wells
I am an eagle soaring through the sky.
I am a flamingo balancing on one foot.
I am a bear catching her food.
I am a star twinkling brightly in the sky.
I am a mother bird laying her eggs.
I am a snake slithering left and right.
I am an elephant swinging his trunk to and fro.
But really, I'm just dreaming, really.

Our Next Great Adventure

We've bought our tickets. So have Pam and Chris, my in-laws. The average temperature at our destination will be a high in the triple digits. We still need to get a few shots. And some luggage. But we are pumped--anxious to see how God will use us and how He will change us.

We are going to Honduras this summer-- to the Casa de Roc--an orphanage for kids there who are classified as "unadoptable." And yes, the girls are coming too. We will stay for two weeks, then return and go immediately to Cody and Laura's wedding in Des Moines.

We are excited to expose our kids to another world, another culture. As a family we want to serve the Lord, to serve others, and to be wise but not fearful about taking risks to help others. Some people are excited for us. Others worried. Honestly, the opportunity is more exciting to us and outweighs any risks. I hope the trip challenges us and changes us at our cores. I hope all four of us, even little Kassy can be a blessing to the orphans and the family that loves them. I hope this trip is the beginning of a long friendship where we can pray for, support and visit these new friends again and again.

And if you feel so moved, we would appreciate your prayers.

4 days of insulin

Chris, asked. And I can't ignore an invitation. When I arrived at the nurse's office for my education (let's call her the DE for diabetes educator) she asked me what kind of insulin and how much I was taking. I shrugged and said, " I thought I was here so you could tell me that." Apparently the doctor hadn't forwarded the information to the DE. She proceeded to talk to for a while about type 1.5, about diet, about all kinds of interesting things, but nothing that I came for.

Unable to stand the thought of wasting this meeting I finally said,"Maybe if you call the doctor we could find out what the scoop is on my insulin." It took her ten minutes to find my doctor in her system, but amazingly the got through and got her question answered in one short call. They never answer my questions that fast. So we got through all the training. Even though I've given myself shots before, I still cringed a bit at the idea. I definitely did played some mind games to keep my focus on what was important and to try and avoid the dreaded,"Poor me" syndrome.

I did learn useful things at that meeting besides the reminder on shots. She finally confirmed for me that prior to my period, my hormones cause my blood sugar to raise (and to think of all this time of the month would cause me because I didn't know why my period would cause skyrocketing blood sugar). I have a better, more informed understanding of the meds I take and have taken. I learned, that normally after a meal as your blood sugar starts to come down the liver will start making sugar to keep you from having lows. I honestly thought diabetes was all about the pancreas and the insulin. I didn't know the liver plays a part. I still have some questions to ask, because now that I am home, I can't put all the pieces together. Maybe when I understand, I'll explain it you.

I do like working with RNs, meeting are usually at an hour long, and they are so personal and friendly. You can't get a doctor to personally return a phone call much less spend an hour discussing your health with you. Plus I had to fill out a really long questionnaire about my health and diet. It's a pain, but so worth the time. I've done these questionnaires at least 6 times. But recording what you eat and the exact amount is so informative and for me, motivating. I wish you could do it and then go to the nutritionist too--you'd learn so much. My appointment with the nutritionist is tomorrow. I do tend to eat better when I have to write down each morsel so to balance it out, I've learned to write in some of the no-nos (you know the M&Ms or the diet pop)I eat if I eat perfectly for a day. I want a plan I can live with. No more diets with unsweetened ketchsup and zero pasta for me.

After being at the DE, I suspected the doctor had also failed to call the insulin into the pharmacy. So I called her office and made the request. I went and picked up the insulin, but the doctor forgot to call in a prescription for the needles. So I had to go home and call again. By this time, I was irritated. Why do I have to everything myself? When I went to pick up the needles, they were out of the size my doctor ordered. I literally collapses with a loud groan on the counter. The pharmacist had anticipated this (I've seen her a lot lately so she's familiar with my talkative nature) and had called my doctor and gotten permission for the shorter needles. And actually these make more sense for me as there isn't too much fat tissue the needle needs to penetrate.

I still need to sit down with the doctor and the pharmacist though. While my numbers on this insulin are nothing short of beautiful my monthly pharmacy bill has shot up from $11 three months ago to $105, even with good insurance. The doctor prescribed an insulin pen and I wonder if make my own shots if I can get the cost down. I still take two oral meds and one of them isn't available in generic form yet .(Greta--do you still read this blog? how long before a medicine goes generic?)

I take a long lasting insulin called Lantis so I only administer one shot right before bed. I don't really need the convenience of a pen at that point of the day.
Now with insulin I do have to count my carbs more closely. Before I only made sure I didn't eat too many carbs. I never experienced lows. But now, to control my sugars, I need insulin. Insulin can create some lows. A couple times in the last few days I haven't eaten enough carbs. And then the strange woozy feeling and the shaking starts. It's scared me to the point of not allowing myself to sleep until Tom gets home, but I know the feeling now. And I know what to do---eat!

I try to remember to be thankful. Diabetes a century ago was a death sentence. Even though I wish I could just eat and not think so hard about what I ingest, this disease is partially under my control (Gotta love the irony since part of what I've learned being diabetic is how to trust God when I am not in control). I've also learned that in the world of disease, you have to fight for yourself. Much of the medical field is so busy getting through the appointments that they don't pay close attention to the non-urgent details.

Dumb survey

I suppose it shouldn't matter. I know the truth. Why do nameless, faceless statistics needs to reflect the truth? And why am I so angry? The anger is big too--you can tell because I am not changing the word dumb in the title to be something more effective. It's an issue of pride.

I hate it when I go to a doctor or fill out the very long census survey (did you get the long one?) and my only job choice is unemployed. I am not unemployed. I don't need to look for work because I do work. Sure I don't pay taxes for the work I do because I don't receive monetary compensation. I get it. That makes me unemployed. But dang it, I am not unemployed.

On the questionnaire for the diabetes educator, one of the questions was something like, "What sort of duties do you perform at your job?" I wrote,"Manager of finances, diet, emotions, behavior, cleaning, laundry, and garden." In parenthesis I wrote homemaker. Previously I had marked the employed box on the questionnaire. After glancing not -so-carefully through my answers she asked, "What sort of job do you have?" She didn't even smile at what I thought was a witty answer to her mundane questionnaire.

And while I am on this soapbox, I HATE it when people ask me what I do and if I say I stay home with my kids or say homemaker, they then ask me, "What else do you do?" My instinctive answer to this question is to scream though the closest I've come is an angry laugh. What else am I supposed to do? Do you really think I can do much with two toddlers running around? ( I understand the question if the kids are in school). If I was a nanny would they ask this question? No, because a nanny gets paid and people can imagine being a nanny as a full-time job. But if I do the work of a nanny and a house cleaner and a cook, but my title is stay-at-home mom, then apparently I am supposed to do more.

Sorry. I needed to rant--isn't that what a blog is for? That darn census survey ticked me off.

Progress

Remembering the past weekend is exhausting. People, dogs, hammer, nails, wood, dirt and general craziness. My in-laws, 4-year-old niece, Tom's grandma and two dogs were here. We ate, played, worked, ate, went to soccer games, slept and ate and worked. The house was full of stuff that was out-of-place, full of yelling, fighting, smiling and giggles. Great grandma faithfully cleaned dishes. Grandma Pam and I refereed the girls as they loved each other. Tom and Grandpa Chris worked and sweated and made progress on that treehouse we have been anticipating for over a year. And my girls, for five glorious days relished in pretending they owned the two dogs that lived in the backyard and in being like their friends who always have grandparents at soccer games.  It was a great visit. And thanks to a brave grandma who took all non-workers to the park and Wal-mart, I was able to plant my garden. I turned over the dirt, added peat moss, vermiculite and blood meal to the dirt, divided it into squares and planted lettuce, spinach, Swiss chard, broccoli, cauliflower, and peas (all the frost hardy veggies). Tomatoes and peppers are still waiting inside for the weather to warm and the cucumbers, beans, and carrots will get started from seed at the end of May. 

And while, there is much to do, the treehouse is currently wrapped in a giant blue tarp and is probably horrifying the neighbors since it looks vaguely like a scary monster in the sky. It is waiting for shingles and siding. But still, I think you will be able to admire the hard work and imagine the adventures the girls will soon have in their backyard retreat. Hads keeps saying, "Dad and Grandpa must love us so much to work so hard on our treehouse." They must. Without further ado, behold the beginnings of the treehouse.

Another parenting tip

Before Kassy was born, Hads and I started frequenting the library. We would go to story time where the man with the marvelous voice would introduce us to kids' lovables like Froggy and that snoring Bear. I would fret about how my almost-two-year-old wouldn't sit still and listen and how she wouldn't color for more than two minutes. If you asked me about such struggles now, I'd smile and say, "Don't worry. Everything's fine. She's only two."

Like most good libraries, the picture books were in low bins so the little kids could look at, touch, and explore the books. One day Hads picked out a book called, Lanny's Lost Mommy. The girl on the front was little and had on a bright yellow dress. Lanny taught Hads and me a valuable lesson, a lesson I knew, but had forgotten to pass on. Lanny got lost in the department store at the mall. The book taught us both things like if you get lost never leave the store you are in, look for store employees to seek help. Remember your mommy or daddy will always come back and look for you. I added to the basic ideas in the story lessons about how to identify store employees and that if all else fails, find another mom with kids. Another mom is as close as you can get to a guarenteed safe person.

I wish I could tell you to check out the book. But I haven't been able to find it, even on Amazon; maybe it's still in the Des Moines Public Library System. Even without the book, you can teach young kids, as young as two, what to do if they get lost in a store. Unlike some other lessons, this one has a higher likelihood of happening if your child is as wiggly as my Hads.