Genius

One of Michael's former co-residents gave Clara this Play-doh dental set for Christmas.


I find this disturbing on so many levels. (Notice: tongue caught partially in cheek)

1. It comes with an electronic drill. Batteries not included. Do you think I am dumb enough to (1) unscrew the tiny screws to fit a battery inside, and then (2) freak my noise- and dentist-sensitive child out by drilling away on play-doh teeth? (You'd think that my child, being the daughter of a dentist, would be okay with dentists, or people being in her mouth. Think again.)

2. Here's the commercial I am imagining: "Hey kids, see how fun it is to put gold fillings on these teeth? It's even more fun to drill out the decayed tooth first! Now you can see in advance what your mouth is going to look like eventually. Who needs to brush and floss when you can have shiny gold crowns and fillings instead? Ooh, pretty."



3. It comes with tweezers to extract the teeth. No joke. (The teeth are gold in the pic because someone wouldn't share the white play-doh with me). "Gee, isn't pulling teeth fun, son? This is what you can look forward to having happen to you someday."

I guess a "how to take care of your mouth" play-doh kit for kids doesn't have quite the same down-and-dirty appeal as the "doctor drill 'n fill" kit does.

So apparently they're prepping future dentists? That looks like a great business strategy.

When life gives you a fallen cake . . .

. . . make cake balls.

This is the remains of a cake that fell depressingly in the oven due to my attempt to bake a pizza at the same time (and hence had to open the oven door several times).

Fortunately, all was not lost, thanks to Bakerella and Pioneer Woman. If you haven't heard of them, you're in for some serious eye candy.

Not that those who are reading this have ever had a cake fall, but just in case, here's an idea for you.

Mix the crumbled cooked cake in the mixer with a can of frosting. Mix the cake until it's evenly incorporated.

Form the cake into balls (mine were a little smaller than golf balls). It probably makes a few more than this, but quite a few managed their way into our mouths instead. They taste pretty amazing. Better than cake somehow.

Next, a couple of squares at a time, melt chocolate bark in a deep bowl (I used a wide glass) in the microwave. Put the balls individually into the chocolate--spoon the chocolate over the ball instead of stirring the ball around--and then gently place on a pan. They dry quickly. Swirl chocolate over the top if you'd like.

With any extra chocolate bark, mix in goodies (I used peanuts) per instructions here and make holly jollies. Genius! And super cheap and easy, too.

Ta-da.

Or you can pretend like me to be eco-conscious and use old peanut butter jars for some muddy buddy chex mix.


With all these uber-healthy treats to give away, we thought about an appropriate gift message:

"From our heart to yours. Literally."

Heavenly peace . . . ?

Michael informed that the other night, Clara was listening to the last phrase of "Silent Night":

"Sleep in heavenly peace."

Clara: "Heavenly pee! . . . Heavenly poo!"


Y'know, there was probably some of that going on along with the sleeping.

Paying attention

In the past several months, I have lost two expensive items: our keys (with electronic key fob) and my new prescription glasses. I have also almost lost (i.e., on my knees praying for help and then gratefully finding the said object) my wedding rings on several occasions, as well as some software CDs.

Why?

I don't think of myself as a particularly scatter-brained person, but I realized that the number one reason that I have lost stuff is that I am not paying attention. I am not focused on the task at hand because my mind is on something else. Another case in point: Having to go back inside the house to check the stove because I wasn't paying attention when I turned it off the first time.

Not only has losing these things made me feel helpless and ticked off that I have to use money that I would have spent otherwise on replacing said items, but these experiences have made me feel very acutely a skill I need to improve: living in the moment.



I have read/skimmed two very interesting brain books of late: The Brain that Changes Itself by Norman Doidge and Think Smart by Richard Restak (partly because I feel like my brain is somewhat mushy these days). These books cover lots of ground, but the three biggest take-home messages for me were the following:


(1) The brain is plastic and can be changed in very powerful ways. The intelligence you were born with, once thought to be largely unchangeable, is now known to be the opposite: you can make yourself smarter and modify your brain, even despite considerable weaknesses, i.e. from a stroke, etc. Of course, you have to consciously focus and work on areas where you are weak in order to improve on them. Ay, there's the rub.

(2) Memory is a crucial element of strong brain performance. It doesn't matter how much you learn if you cannot remember it when you want or need to. These books discuss techniques, brain games, etc. that you can play to improve your memory and other thinking skills. Adequate sleep, exercise, and diet all influence the brain. (I hope that Santa has heard my request for a crossword puzzle book and dictionary.)

(3) Focus on the task at hand. Here's a powerful thought from Think Smart:

"Increase your capacity for sustained attention and concentration. To do this, resist the pressures to multitask. In most cases, multitasking serves as a substitute for prioritizing. Even worse, it chisels away at your ability to remain mentally focused. And if you can't focus, your brain remains stunted and incapable of achieving its true potential."

When we live in the moment, we are fully aware of our experiences. We can understand the information we are learning more easily, and we can remember it later more effectively.

And how about the effect that living in the moment can have on our relationships? I imagine that I'm not alone in admitting that sometimes when I'm on the floor playing with my daughter I'm actually thinking about what I have to make for dinner, or when I'm praying I'm actually thinking about the movie I just finished watching, or when someone is talking I'm sometimes only focused on the very intelligent response I want to give him/her instead of what he/she is actually saying.


Here's a good rule of thumb I made up for myself: If the task is important to me, then pay attention. If it's not, feel free to multi-task. So if it's important that I remember where I left the keys, I'll pay attention when I'm putting them down. Hopefully my newfound resolve will prevent me from losing things so frequently.



I don't really like cliche sayings and quotes. But this one is true:

Wherever you are, be there.

I'm thankful for . . .

. . . a preschool Thanksgiving program.

. . . our little turkey who sings well and sits through the whole program.

. . . a table set for many.

. . . a father who helps his daughter form six dozen rolls.

. . . a fabulous family surrounding a table teeming with toothsome treats.

. . . sweet nieces and nephews.

. . . a family who enjoys impromptu kazoo/tin whistle renditions of "How Firm a Foundation."


. . . a wonderful Thanksgiving day ending in the traditional "candy in the leaves" hunt, replete with fun for child and adult alike.

Mixing things up

Have you ever heard of PlayFoam?

It's kind of funky--little balls of styrofoam that stick to each other and don't ever dry out (supposedly). Clara loves textures, and she really enjoys playing with this stuff. It doesn't stick to your hands at all and can be formed into all sorts of shapes.

However, I never let her mix the colors. This also goes for play-doh. I am vehemently opposed to the unpleasant gray mass that is created whenever play-doh is mixed together, so I only let Clara play with one color at a time. Is that mean of me or what?


Today, I let Clara mix the colors of the PlayFoam. And I mixed them together, too.

It was kind of liberating. But I'm still keeping the play-doh separated . . . I can only go so far.

A birthday and other happenings

Michael turned thirty-one years old. It continues to feel very weird that we are no longer in our "early twenties."

We had lots of yummy food today (on which I overindulged since it was a "break day" from my no-dessert challenge) in celebration, and we also enjoyed a wonderful visit from parents this weekend. Happy birthday, Sweetheart.

Last weekend, we enjoyed a quick visit from Michael's younger brother and his wife, Caleb and Shannyn, and their two cute kids, Clark and Jane. Clara thought Clark was pretty cool and even allowed him to wear her backpack at one point.

There's nothing like having great friends to whom you are also related. Wish we lived closer to our siblings!

Thirteen thoughts for Friday the 13th

1. Don't ever let your child push a puzzle box with screws on the bottom eight feet across your hardwood floor.

2. Don't try to fix previously-mentioned scratches with a magic eraser.

3. Don't bring couscous on a picnic.

4. Don't bring quesadillas on a picnic.

5. You can add yeast to bread dough after it's mixed if you realize you forgot to add it. It will rise and taste fine, although it might not be quite as fluffy.

6. Buying an expensive pair of eyeglasses and then losing it isn't a good idea. Or a set of car keys.

7. You'll regret eating that. You think you won't, but trust me. You will.

8. Hairbows on little girls make the lamest outfit look cute.

9. Mrs. Meyer's Everyday cleaner in geranium smells lovely. I don't know if it cleans better, but it makes me feel better.

10. Low-fat sour cream tastes so much better than fat-free. It's worth the extra calories.

11. Vinegar and water really do work to clean the mirror.

12. Never put an adult-size q-tip in a child's ear.

13. Keep a portable potty in your trunk, even after your child is potty-trained. It really comes in handy.

Halloween continued

In honor of the Halloween season being finally over, Michael and I have shaken hands and committed to having a dessert-free month until Thanksgiving. Well, we are going to take one day off for his birthday. For those of you who know me well, it ain't gonna be easy. But I will prevail!

In the meantime, I shall reminisce.


We actually didn't take Clara trick-or-treating because we'd already gone to the church Halloween festival and gotten gobs of candy. Plus, I was tired of getting her dressed up. Fortunately she was none the wiser.

After Clara had gone to bed, I couldn't resist dumping all her candy out and organizing like I did in the good ole' days. There is something so irresistible and alluring about opening a bag full of candy and smelling that smell. The smell of goodness. And temptation.

At Clara's preschool, they had a little Halloween parade--check out the sweet Scooby Doo costume some kid is wearing.

Princess Clara. She had debated being a vampire, a witch, or a ghost, so I was relieved when princess was the order of the day (especially since we already had the shoes and dress in her dress-up clothes).

The traditional pumpkin carving attempt. I asked Clara what kind of face she wanted and she finally settled on "a surprised face."


By the way, join in on our dessert-free contest if you'd like. We can be strong together.

Halloween party

We threw a costume party Friday night.

Bloody signs courtesy of my artistic husband.

I like luminaries.

Remember this post? I thought our Harry and Ginny ensembles worked out pretty well. I made the ties, which aren't really real ties, but they worked from a distance.

Check out these sweet treats some friends brought. The note says, "Warning: Contains eyes."

A pregnant angel and her devil husband, with our friend Lindsay in the back (who came with her nearly newborn baby--wow).

Our friends and fellow co-hosts, Adam and Janie, dressed up as Hermione and Ron. Adam's wig was hilariously awesome. This was our "serious" shot . . . I lamented to Janie that I am incapable of doing the "serious and sultry" look but pull off the "deer in the headlights" look most admirably.

Hermione and Harry discussing over dinner.

Most of the gang. I am so mad, but I forgot to take a picture of one couple--the wife, Becky, is pictured in front in the doctor's outfit. Her husband was dressed as a grim reaper, and they came as "traditional health insurance" and "the public option," informing everyone that they had to guess which was which.

The Grease duo and a 20s duo.

After the fire died down and most of our guests left, Michael got some golf tips from our friend Allen.

It was a fun night.

The Enemy

"The better is the enemy of the good." Francois de Voltaire


We've all been given talents. Lately, however, I've been feeling like "a jack of all trades and a master of none." (Okay, a jack of only a few trades.) So when a new, possibly upshot soprano joined my chamber choir recently, of course I felt intimidated, my talent wasn't very good, how dare she have an amazing voice, I wasn't needed anymore, and why was I even trying when there would always be someone better? etc.

Ahhh. Confessing always makes me feel better.

Anyhoo, I want to embrace the fact that being so-so, mediocre, or average at a skill isn't bad. It's fine. It's better to be average at something than to just bury your head in the ground entirely. (At least, that's what I'm trying to convince myself.) There must be a balance between improving yourself and being content with who you are.

This issue bleeds into other areas--there are so many things that moms can do or be involved in nowadays . . . and not just involved in; they have to be amazing at it, too. It's not just about the washing and the ironing and the cooking and the cleaning and the slaughtering anymore. No, now it's replaced with what the modern mommy should be doing:

keeping an organized home
staying fit and skinny (preferably through running 10Ks and/or marathons)
maintaining beautiful hair
(I know you envy me)
blogging
sewing
quilting
canning
building a year's supply
photography
gardening
music
studying scriptures
magnifying her calling
sharing the gospel
doing family history
baking whole wheat bread
cutting coupons
reading intelligent books

Oh, and need I add, raising beautiful, intelligent, sociable, polite, exceedingly precocious children?

(She may not be all of the above, but I wouldn't trade her for any other child on the whole planet.)


I want to empower myself to let go of the things I feel I ought to do (but don't want to) and give myself time for the things I want to do but don't. Why do I sometimes feel like I should do what everyone else is doing? Do I actually even enjoy that particular activity?

I recently made a list entitled "My Life Priorities." And you know what?

None of the above were listed on it.


Okay, I jest. But like Voltaire said, those who are merely good at a particular skill can feel intimidated or even disheartened by those who excel. Not that it's bad to excel, mind you. But it's okay to just be good at something. Or merely okay. Or downright terrible.

I like what James of the New Testament had to say: "If any many offend not in word, the same is a perfect man."

Now that's a goal I can wrap my mind around--instead of worrying about all the STUFF I feel like I should be doing or focusing on skills I'm not good at, how about I try to perfect myself by controlling this waggling tongue of mine?

How about I try to excel at things that matter?


Actually, I've decided to pare my life priority list down to one thing that I can be really good at:

eating

Oh, that wasn't on the list? Dang.


How about complaining?

A trip to Harrisonburg, VA

We just got back from a great trip up to Virginia to check out another orthodontic practice. (Thank you AGAIN for watching Clara, wonderful grandparents.)

Harrisonburg is in the Shenandoah Valley, and it is lovely at this time of year. We even were surprised with snow, a bear, and lots of deer when we went up to the mountains for a short hike. Here are a few glimpses, caption-free.

A favorite children's author: Shirley Hughes

Months ago, I happened upon an "Alfie" book as I was perusing the children's library books, selecting the actual books I would be checking out instead of the ones Clara was piling up on the floor (I'm a terrible mom, I know.)


Oh, how I was enthralled. Where do I begin?

The illustrations: The pictures are whimsical, charming, winsome, and engaging. The facial expressions are fabulous and the whole book just makes you want to dive in and live there.

The stories: Hughes perfectly captures everyday life experiences of a British family--in the, what, mid-50s?--and tells them in such a captivating way. Alfie and Annie Rose have lots of books, but she's also written one called Dogger and several about Lucy and Tom and some other children. We've read about fifteen of her books, I'm guessing, and I wish I could own every one of them. Or any one of them, for that matter.



I don't know if her style only appeals to some people, but it certainly appealed to me. In fact, I love this lady so much I'm thinking about naming a child after her. (What do you think, honey? Okay, maybe if we ever get a dog. How about then?)

Check out Shirley Hughes today. You won't regret it. And if you do, give that book right back to the library so a more appreciative soul can check it out.