We've been planning this vacation for a while. Most people are like that. I know few vacationers who just wake up one day and say, "hey, let's take a week off and go vacation!" So, for months, we've looked forward to this week. I spent last week doing laundry, and cleaning the house (everyone does this, right?), and planning last minute details.
Apparently, so was Murphy. Someone thought it would be fun to invite him along.
Murphy helped move Micah's cold along into a sinus infection early last week, and the boy is on antibiotics to clear it up. I was thrilled that he'd have a week to finish the meds before we left, but that was *before* I picked up the presciption. It's a 10-day dosage, of course, ending the middle of this week. We're traveling with his needs-to-be refrigerated meds. Not a biggie, but inconvenient.
And then Saturday morning Murphy reared his ugly head again. Josh woke up with a sore ear. The kid has a super high tolerance for pain, so a "sore" ear to him could be an ear infection to the rest of the general populace. But not being one given over to panic, I said to let me know how it feels as the day progresses. (I mean, what's the difference between going to the ER at 9 AM, or 3 PM?)
While I was waiting for Josh to get back with me on the condition of his inner ear, I developed some inward discomfort of my own. And outward, as well. My entire undercarriage was in a bad way, thanks to a raging UTI. It took me a few hours to realize what it was. (Hey, we were planning to leave for vacation the next day. I was distracted.) And then it took me all of 15 seconds to realize that I wouldn't be in town on Monday to go to the doctor, and I'd end up in an ER either Saturday night, or sometime through the week while out of town.
As long as I was going to the ER anyway, we'd make it a family event. Josh and I are now on antibiotics, too, because Murphy didn't want Micah to be the only one toting meds on vacation. For anyone counting, that's exactly half our family on antibiotics for the week of fun that we've planned for months now. We keep things interesting. It's how we roll.
When I Find Out Who Invited Murphy On Vacation, I'm Unfriending Them
On It's Way Out
The boy is about to lose a tooth. At the age of half past 8, it's his 3rd one down. He's rather clueless about the whole process, and doesn't seem to know or care when he has a hole in his smile. Well, except that last one that needed pulled out. He was aware of that process, trust me. I think the entire dental office was aware.
The previous two were bottom teeth, and Micah's smile doesn't show his bottom teeth, so it really wasn't a big deal. But this 3rd one is a top tooth, and I'm a wee bit excited about how cute his smile will be with a hole in it.
Call me weird. Also call me grateful that this one didn't need professional intervention.
The Grammar Nazi Is Becoming Twitchy
I have always excelled at grammar in school. Things like punctuation are important to me. Yeh, I'm a total geek like that. And it bugs me to no end when I see people butchering the English language in print. (Okay, it bothers me to hear it be butchered in speech as well, but I'll save that rant for another day.)
While at the mall today, I saw a vehicle with a memoir on the back window. I know you've seen those, too. They read something like, "In Memory Of Little Bill, 1967-2009." My beef with today's car was the lack of grammar. It boldly declared, "Ride On Chris, 1977-2010."
People, a comma makes a huge difference. H-U-G-E. I mean, "Ride On, Chris" is a nice sentiment to remember someone who was a go-getter in life. But "Ride On Chris" is something that makes for awkward explaining to small children.
We will not even begin to talk about the capitalization of all the words.
Benches are placed along the bike trail that I love so much, and the majority of them have been donated by families in memory of someone they love. There are a lot of "In Memory of's," but the ones that irk me are the inappropriate quotations. This is the correct use of quotations:
In Memory of William "Bill" MurrayBut things like:
"In Memory of Mary Burke"makes me twitchy. Was she really beloved? Is it really in her memory? How can one tell with all those quotation marks? And really, I can't be twitchy while biking because I'm not that great of a biker yet.
"A Beloved Sister, Friend, Aunt"
People, grammar makes a huge difference. Is it asking too much to simply follow the rules?
The Best Summer Ever
We have 4 kids. That alone is reason enough to have to watch our recreational budget, but the fact that we choose to live on one income further restricts us. We have always been creative in ways of entertainment, and I am a certified bargain hunter, so we're never lacking for things to do.
This summer, we made a list of all the fun things we wanted to do, because Luke tends to turn pessimistic and focus on what we haven't done. I figured a list would help him see what all we actually did, and how much fun we had. As Becky was looking over the list one day, she said, "most of the things on here are either free, or really cheap." Yep, we planned it that way on purpose.
This summer, we have not been inside a movie theater since Kung Fu Panda 2 came out. We have, however, seen some of the prettiest nature in the county.
We have not been to Chuck E. Cheese's, but we've had watermelon and s'mores on the patio nearly every week without fail.
And to make up for the lack of fun and games, we've played bocce and enjoyed the trampoline. Even in the rain.
We've been bowling, compliments of the Kids Bowl Free program offered nationwide.
We've eaten out less this summer, and eaten outdoors more often.
We've played, using our imagination.
We've been creative.
And while we haven't been to a water park, we got to ride a water slide anyway.
We've entertained both friends and family, because people make memories even better.
We've biked extensively, seeing some wonderful things our county has to offer.
We have yet to visit an amusement park, but there are parks all around that offer wonderful fun.
And one of the best things about a summer like this is the fact that not only am I teaching the kids that fun doesn't have to cost money, but they are learning to appreciate the wonderful world around them.
That is priceless no matter who you are.
Define "Biker"
I'm loving biking immensely. I try to bike daily, but lately it's been a struggle. Mostly because the truck has been on the fritz and it's my transportation to and from the trail. And also I had that bladder infection that put a hinderance on just about anything, but that's probably TMI.
What's that? Why don't I ride on the roads? Oh, yeh, well, that's because we live in the mountains and you can't go more than a few hundred yards without hitting a pretty major hill of some sort. Some day I'll be able to do that, but considering I've only been biking less than a month, I'm not quite up to our kind of hills yet. So I bike on the flat trail that was converted from a railroad track. (That's why it's flat. Otherwise, nothing here is very flat at all. And yet, because we live in the mountains, that flat trail isn't exactly flat either. It's got a slight grade to it.)
So the truck. It's been on the fritz. It spent a very long weekend in the shop for electrical problems and I was none too happy for several reasons. When I picked it up on Monday, the nice man at the counter said, "I called Saturday to let you know it was done. Didn't you get the message?" Yes, I did, but with Sam working we couldn't get the truck before the shop closed, plus I didn't need it for anything pressing. I just missed biking.
"Are you a biker?," the man asked.
I contemplated that. Was I a biker? I mean, I've been biking for all of 3 weeks. That hardly qualifies as a biker. But then again, one has to start somewhere, and I do try to bike daily. I'm pushing myself to bike faster and farther with each ride. That's a biker, right? Maybe I should stop trying to justify what I am and just embrace being a biker. (It's truly amazing what can run through your mind in .386 seconds while you're composing an answer to a question.)
So I confidently said, "Yes, I am."
"My wife is, too. She just left for DC this morning," the counter man said.
(Perspective: the biking trail runs from Pittsburgh to DC. From where we are, DC is about 230 miles one way.)
And then I felt like an idiot, because without thinking, I blurted out, "oh wow! I've just been bikin for 3 weeks!"
But everyone has to start somewhere, and in the scheme of things, I'm a beginning biker. But a biker nonetheless.
Hi. I'm Karen. I'm a biker. I cannot ride hills, and I can't yet accomplish more than 16 miles in one ride. But I am loving every minute I spend on my bike, and lapping all those sitting on the couch.
Keeping Cool
We're in the midst of a heat wave here, like much of the country is right now. The problem is, we're not equipped to deal with heat. (Translation: few homes here have central air.) So, after what feels like 18,298,314 days of sweat-drenched-underwear-just-from-breathing, one simply must find reprieve from the heat. I contemplated the mall or a movie theater, but instead the kids opted for one of the many state parks surrounding us. Ohiopyle is the bomb diggity.
First of all, it's stunningly beautiful.
But don't let that idyllic little river fool you, it's some of the grandest whitewater around. People come from far and wide to shoot our rapids.
We were there for tamer adventures, however.
After lunch, we hit the water, and it was just perfect to cool down in. The river bed above the waterfall (yep, one of those, too!) isn't the typical sandy bottom you'd expect. Instead, it's a fairly solid rock ledge with ridges and "steps" leading downriver. This makes it nice to walk on, albeit slippery. The kids had a blast riding the tiny waterfalls in the approved-for-swimming area. Sadly, I have no pictures, because I feared dropping the camera in the water.
I do have photos of the waterslide, though! This thing is a few kinds of awesome. Lookit!
And that's just the very end of it! You're looking at a natural waterslide that you can ride for a few hundred feet before reaching the bottom.
Some parts are better for small kids and some are great for big kids, but everyone can enjoy the natural slide at some point.
And there is absolutely nothing better to cool off in than a free waterpark in your back yard. God's wonders never cease to amaze me.
I Swear He Grew Three Years While He Was Gone
We knew that Micah would love Camp Parc, that's why we signed him up. But we had reservations. And when he realized that we had intentions of leaving him there, he tried locking himself in the van that first night. It went downhill from there rather quickly. I mentioned that his cries were heard as I walked to the van, but I didn't mention that he was being physically restrained from following us, and those cries were more like screams of help and abandonment.
It was a long 3 days. I called the camp a few hours after we left him and was reassured that he settled in, but I still had some apprehension. Tonight was the last night for our reluctant camper, and the families were invited to a dinner and end program for their campers to show off in before we could bring them home.
We wondered. He'd be glad to see us, of course, but his reaction would tell us exactly what his week had been like. If he ran up to hug us, then tried desperately to wrap himself onto my leg and refused to participate in the carnival going on around him, we'd know his week was one from hell itself. But if he ran to hug us, then grabbed our hands to show us around so that we'd know all the people he met and the fun he had, his week would have been pretty good and we could confidently send him back next year.
It took a while for Micah to spot us out by the oak tree. "Mom! Dad! Mom! Dad!" he yelled as he ran to wrap his arms around me. And then he hugged Becky, and ran to the van. Not a good sign. At all. His personal counselor guided him back to us, and then he remembered that there were carnival games to be played. For the next hour, we didn't even exist to the kid. He ran from game to game as we tagged along, and he didn't even care - or notice - when we lagged several games behind so that we could enjoy the shade of that oak tree again.
The boy had a very good week at camp. A very good week indeed. In fact, if we weren't so thrilled that he loved it as much as we thought he might, we'd be a little hurt that we're so easily forgotten for 3 days.
My baby is not a baby any longer.
Blowing the Hummingbird Theory Right Out of the Water
I've always loved hummingbirds. They're so tiny and fantastically engineered. I've always thought of them as elusive little creatures, a bit on the shy side, and needing to be coaxed out into public with strategically placed feeders and the like.
It's been years since I've had a hummingbird feeder, and this summer I decided to remedy that. Perhaps there would be a bird in the area that I could attract, and if I got very, very lucky I could see it on occasion when I'm on the patio eating breakfast or reading a book.
And by golly, it worked! I have a regular little customer at my nectar station and I enjoyed watching that tiny little thing sip, sip, sip away until the feeder was empty. And that's when I realized that I didn't know hummingbirds very well at all.
Theory: Hummingbirds are a bit on the shy side, needing to be coaxed out into public.
Fact: Hummingbirds are ornery little stinkers, incredibly cheeky, and not afraid to put you in your place.
Turns out, when my feeder gets empty, a certain tiny little someone will buzz my head when I'm trying to eat breakfast or read a book. When there is a yummy sugar solution in the feeder, he'll let me enjoy the outdoors in peace. He's not stupid, that tiny little bird, and also not afraid of me. I've given him leeway on the buzz-bys because his mate has a wee nest in the hedge.
I love hummingbirds. They're amazingly engineered little things, but there's nothing shy about them.
I *Know* He'll Have Fun, But That Doesn't Mean I Will
We dropped Micah off at camp this evening. It may be both the longest and shortest 3 days of my entire life this week.
Camp Parc is for those with mental handicaps, so they can enjoy a week of camp with their peers. It's an awesome little place just 2 miles from our house, but don't let the backwoods location fool you - it's adult camp week draws nearly 100 campers from far and wide. They've only been doing mini camp for 3 years now, and there are 15 other campers there this week along with Micah. Mini camp is for campers under the age of 18, and each camper is assigned both a personal counselor and a peer buddy (someone close Micah's own age to be his personal best friend for the week) and they even sleep on either side of him in the cabin. He'll be treated like a king with all the special attention, which is super awesome.
And yet, I worry, because I'm his mom.
Because he can't talk to say that he misses his family and wants to go home.
Because he knows about 3 people there in the whole camp, and he's surrounded by strangers.
Because he's never stayed overnight anywhere except grandparents houses without us.
Because I'm his mom, and what kind of mom would I be if I didn't worry needlessly for my son?
I asked Sam what he thought of the camp before sending in the application. Was it a good idea? Should we wait a year or two? Sam, in his wisdom, said that we can't keep him a baby forever.
I agree. I said I didn't like it, but I agree.
And despite my reservation, I told myself that he'd be just fine and would have a wonderful time at camp. I was assured by both camp staff and seasoned parents that all kids love camp week. I believe them. And yet, Micah most certainly did not want us to leave. In fact, when he realized that we were going to make him stay, he tried locking himself in the van. He wouldn't let us out of his sight.
I told him that he was going to get to sleep there with his new friends, and they were swimming and doing crafts and playing games, and we'd be back after a while to get him. He'd have so much fun.
But he wasn't buying it.
I heard him crying the whole way back to the van, and my mom's heart just wanted to run back and say, "I've made a mistake! My baby isn't ready to grow up, isn't it obvious? I'm taking him home with me." But insteaad, I drove off.
I felt like a traitor. I walked out on my own son.
And yet, when I called to check on him, he was settled in and having a good time. And he'd only been there a few hours. I know he's going to have an amazing week, but it's going to be very, very difficult for me to forget that he didn't want me to leave.
Sometimes, being a mom is incredibly hard. But I'll get to sleep in until the spirit moves me for three whole days this week, so that's minor compensation.
Winner! We Have A Winner!
It's Friday, and I know y'all are looking forward to knowing who won those 2 free tickets to Kennywood Park. Well, you need wait no longer! The lucky, lucky winner is pjtcshaffer! Congrats!
StayCation Options. Door 1, 2, or 3?
For the first time in 16 years of parenthood, Sam and I have a week of childlessness looking at us sometime next month. The younger boys will be at camp, and the teens will be junior counselors. And this year we are allowing Micah to stay overnight. In the past, we've brought him home every night to sleep as a courtesy to the counselors and other campers. The boy just gets excited in such situations and stays up until even the owls have turned in for the night (or morning), then is up before the roosters, jumping and screaming.
Yes, we are subjecting other people to the joys of our boy on an overnight trip. And we are going to enjoy ourselves immensely in our childless state.
Problem is, we're not sure what we're going to do. There are some limitations to our fun, of course. We should probably be "on call" in the event that Micah is asked to leave camp. (Doubtful, but still.) And we do have to report to camp mid-week as helpers, so we can't go on a week-long cruise or anything like that. Which leads me to the big stipulation, which is money. This will happen shortly after we get back from family vacation, and I suspect that we're like most families and come home from vacay with a drained bank account. The goal on our few-day childless state is to have a grand time on no money.
Being an avid biker (in my mind), I want to take our bikes and go somewhere. My first thought is Gettysburg. We can do a day trip down and back and give ourselves a bike tour of the historical landmark. I love history. I love biking. What would be better?
Except maybe a day trip to Lake Erie. Presque Isle State Park is teeming with bike trails, and those trails are near the lake. Awesome. When we're done biking, we can sit and watch the waves crash on the shore. Even more awesome. I'm loving Option 2.
Option 3 would be a zero money one, which is a bonus. There's that bike trail near our house that runs from Pittsburgh to DC. One stretch of it runs from our house to Ohiopyle, which is an awesome recreation area 30 miles down the trail. Yes, I said 30 miles. Despite being an avid biker, I've been at this all of 3 weeks now, so I suspect that it'll take the better part of a day for us to traverse 30 miles on bikes. That's okay though, because we won't have kids or responsibilities. A packed lunch would travel well in my wicker basket, too.
Oh, the fun to be had. We've got a month to contemplate the possibilities, but you can bet your bottom dollar that it'll be fantastical.
What Do Men Call That Bag That They Carry That's Equivalent To A Lady's Purse?
Accessories are everything. Every girl knows this. Coordinating shoes and handbags, layering jewelry, or even just adding earrings to make the outfit complete. They're all essential to your daily routine. Unless you're me, and scoff at fashion and it's silly rules. My motto is "If I Like It, I Wear It." In order to fall in the Like It category, it's gotta be super comfy. In fact, I found a stretch knit jersey skirt the other day and I don't think I've taken it off since. It's the bomb diggity for summer.
And then there's my hat. I bought this fisherman-style denim hat years ago when the kids were playing soccer because it seemed no matter what field my kids were playing in, or what time of day the game was, I was forever looking directly into the sun. Ball caps neither fall into the "comfy" nor "like it" range for me, but for some reason that denim bucket hat did. It's been a life saver in summer while riding in vehicles without air conditioning. Slap on a hat and you have no wind-blown mess upon arrival. Of course, you've got hat hair, but that's easily remedied by simply wearing the hat at your destination as well.
I wore the hat this morning to breakfast with my mother-in-law because I didn't feel like styling my hair. The new van has AC, but I've simply become attached to that bucket hat and use it as an excuse to not spend time on vanity.
It's baffling to me, then, why my children are all about fashion. They did not learn it from me, obviously. And while Sam is no fashion slouch, neither is he cutting edge in the fashion world either. Josh was a slow talker, but one of the first things he adamantly declared was that sweat pants were pajamas and not to be worn into public. (This was the day when sweatsuits were all the rage for little boys.) Becky is a girl through and through and could easily model for Vogue in some of the outfits she pulls together. She mourns the fact that we live in Backwoods Nowhere and not New York City. Her style is very unappreciated here. In fact, sometimes it's criticized. Luke, however, is an artist. If he has a pencil and paper, he's happy. Clothing is something you throw on randomly to cover yourself.
And then there's Micah. That boy encompasses all that the other kids are in one neat little package. He's got a certain style that is all him, and isn't afraid of being who he is. That kid will wear a Superman costume to the grocery store, and a skirt around the house. He'll wear a button down shirt and tie with sweatpants to school. And lately, he's decided that he needs a purse for church. The people at church know Micah well, and simply laugh as we do. That purse has been renamed the Murse, the Man Bag, the Satchel, and the Shoulder Bag. But the fact that it's pink polka dotted leaves no mystery to anyone that it's a ladies purse. And Micah carries it proudly.
I'm just baffled why it's only for church. Do men not carry a Murse anywhere else?
Pinterest Love
Thanks to Pinterest, we've been doing a lot of extra fun things this summer. The latest is goo. If you've got Borax and Elmer's glue, it's highly recommended.
Something else that I recommend this summer is a trip to Kennywood in Pittsburgh. I've got that giveaway for 2 FREE tickets here if you need them. Consider this a friendly reminder.
Kennywood. If You're Not Familiar With It Yet, You Soon Will Be.
Amusement parks were made for kids. I didn't say what age of kid, but definitely for kids. I remember distinctly each amusement park that I've ever visited, from the local Idlewild in our backyard (an hour away, of course, like everything is) to Six Flags and Hershey. And of course, Disney. And once, I visited Kennywood with a friend in high school. Kennywood is a local(ish) park in Pittsburgh, and that was the only time I was there. I won't tell you how long it's been.
The school uses Kennywood as an incentive program. At the end of the year, they take kids on a field trip to Kennywood, but to qualify, students can't miss more than 10 days of school, nor can they have an illegal day. (You know, the ones where mom forgets to write an excuse, or the kids forget to turn it in.) I know it sounds like an easy way to get an all-inclusive day paid to an amusement park, but we have yet to have a kid actually go be amused. Becky's first year in high school (where the program is offered) she had an illegal day. Her second year, she was pulled at Thanksgiving to become a cyber student.
Josh just finished his first year as a high schooler. He blew through his 10 days at the beginning of the school year with two broken arms. Things went downhill from there (think landslide) when his psoriasis came back and he took twice-weekly treatments to scare it back into remission. Josh was keenly disappointed to miss Kennywood.
We are now the Best Parents Ever, because we have redeemed his end-of-year blues. We are taking the family to Kennywood. Yes. Yes, we are. And we'll expect the son to dance joyfully and with abandon. (And knowing that boy, he probably will, right there in the middle of Kennywood, if we ask him to.)
And because Kennywood is such an awesomely fun place to hang in the summer, what with their roller coasters and water rides and other uber-fun attractions, you'll want to join us. Yes. Yes, you will. And I can help with that. I have the power to award one lucky reader 2 absolutely free tickets to Pittsburgh's very own amusement park. (Pittsburgh rocks, no?) Kennywood and you, this summer. It'll be the very best day ever, and then your kids can grow up and fondly remember Kennywood just like I do.
To be eligible to win the pair of tickets, simply leave a comment. If you want additional entries, tweet about this and come back to comments and let me know. And for yet another, a Facebook shout-out will do the same, but don't forget to comment back here to let me know. Good luck, and maybe I'll see you there!
*Winner will be drawn Friday, July 15.
A Wrinkle In Summer
Confession: I have become a biking addict.
I'm loving this, really, because all addicts love what they're addicted to. And like a true addict, I don't want help. Plus, it's a good thing (hello, exercise!) so I'm doubly loving it. And considering I've been biking almost daily for a whopping 2.5 weeks and am still able stand in the morning is amazing in and of itself. (Except that one morning where I wasn't bolstered up by Aleve after a particularly long ride the day before, but we won't talk about that day.)
In my newfound zeal for biking, I have talked the daughter into joining us. The daughter is very into Indie and the like, and was all, "I'll bike, but I want a vintage cycle."
Done.
Flea markets rock, man. Seriously. If you look hard enough you can find anything in your price range. And that thing rides like a dream. I know, because I wanted one as well but wasn't willing to give up my 18 speeds in the event that a retro cruiser wouldn't pedal all that well. I traded the daughter on a ride, and it's a sweet little bike.
The good news is that, while nowhere near vintage, in another 2 years my own Preshus will be a legal antique.
But there is a wrinkle in my perfect summer. The Very Best Trail Ever that happens to practically be in our backyard, has had some incidents reported lately that have me a bit skeered. Incidents like attempted ambushes and the like. Incidents that make me want to ride with groups of 5,186 or more, and carry megaphones, and get that license to carry a concealed firearm. And stock up on Mace.
It's disconcerting, is what it is.
And yet, I'll continue to bike, because I love it. But I'm pretty sure I'll carry a whistle in the least.
That Could Have Ended Badly
By some stroke of sheer luck, I ended up childless for a few hours today. I know, right? But to make up for it, there are 3 extra in the house tonight for a sleepover. Summer is all about fun, and we're taking full advantage of that.
And in the spirit of All About Fun, I took myself to the mall to hit up a good sale. I also got a manicure because the price was right and I could. Nothing is more fun than a relaxing mani without fourteen kids running hither and yon and asking when we're going already. (Mark this day, it won't happen again until the kids are back in school.) (And yes, I'm aware that I don't ever have 14 kids, but when you are preoccupied and simply cannot get up to remind kids to be in Very Best Manners mode, they will take full advantage of your inability to discipline and morph into octopi spawn, reaching and grabbing and running and touching and poking and GAH! It may as well be 14 kids, for Pete's sake.)
So anyhoo, I'm relaxing. And it was sweet indeed. And then I grabbed my bag of sale goods, and held my freshly manicured nails aloft, and strutted out to the car feeling like a new woman. That lotsa good feeling lasted right up until I put the key in the ignition, turned it, and heard the CLICK. You know, The Battery Is Definitely Dead And You're Not Going Anywhere CLICK. Yeh, that one.
Nuts. And the jump starter wasn't in the vehicle, either. Of course. So I called my husband, because what else does a woman do in a situation like that? Only he didn't answer because apparently he works sometimes at his job and can't answer the phone. Of course.
And then I saw him. The mall security police was driving down the row in front of me. Do you know how many times I've been at the mall and have seen mall security? Zero, that's how many. I didn't even know that the mall had roving security patrols. And right there he was, in front of me, so I jumped out of my dead ride and flagged him down.
And that's how I know that angels come in all shapes and sizes, because that man that I normally would have taken for a geek with a molestache was quite the lifesaver for me today. I'm so grateful that God is always watching out for me.
I'm also very much sickened over the fact that one has to sign a waiver stating that I will not sue in the event that something goes wrong while security is trying to help me. It's a messed up world when people stoop to those levels, and yet they do. Frequently. That's why I have to sign waivers.
Blessings In Messes
Summer means that I spend time outdoors rather than indoors. This directly translates into the fact that housework gets pushed aside. It's hard to find time to maintain gardens and keep the floors clean both, and one can't garden in winter, so I choose seasonally.
Living in a house with perpetually messy floors and cluttered counters irritates me, but since I spend more time outside than in, I clean what I see to make up for it. The patio is forever being cleaned.
After an evening sitting around the campfire with friends, I rearrange chairs to where they belong again.
I pick socks up from behind the bench where they were pulled off so a kid could run into the yard and not get wet socks after the dew sets in.
I gather sidewalk chalk back into it's basket after admiring the murals all over the 1,000 square feet of patio pavers.
I pick up toy guns and dress up clothes from the yard where they were cast off as the kids and their friends were tired of playing with one thing and moved on to another.
I pick up cups and chocolate wrappers from an evening of s'mores and snacks with friends.
I put the balls and bubbles back into the toy basket.
And then I sit back and marvel at how the family has grown together this summer and all the fun we have with friends and extended family. The patio is the family room of summer, and someday I hope the kids will sit around talking of all the fun they've had out back.
We're Not Complete Failures. Some Things Actually Turn Out Kinda Neat.
It's been established that I can't tie dye. But apparently bleaching is a far different category than tie dying and I can do that with some form of success.
Materials needed: one shirt, freezer paper, an iron, bleach, spray bottle, bucket of water.
Yep, I think that's it.
Directions: Make a picture of something on freezer paper, cut it out, and iron it onto the shirt you've got chosen. It really sticks (shiny side down!) but is very easy to peel off as well. I found this to be quite amazing. And no, wax paper will not work, nor will parchment paper. Trust me, I've tried.
We went simple and cut out a tree.
Once the design is ironed on, lay the shirt out flat on a surface that you don't mind bleaching, like grass. Or the driveway. Put a piece of cardboard inside the shirt to keep the bleach from bleeding through to the back.
When the shirt is laid out nicely (you'll want a non-windy day for this) simply spray around the ironed-on design with your bleach bottle. The more you spray, the whiter the shirt of course. The fine mist is the best setting, otherwise you'll have streaks of white rather than a slow fade.
When you see the shirt start to change from Pretty Fun Color to Starting To Fade, dunk that shirt in the bucket of water you have on hand for just that purpose. You'll want to neutralize the bleach when it starts working because otherwise it'll eat a hole right through the shirt, and that would be counterproductive.
After sufficiently soaking the shirt in water, peel off the freezer paper, wring the shirt out, and wash as usual.
Ta-da!
Happy Independence Day
Have a wonderful holiday with your family, doing what you enjoy the most.
Spending time with things you love.
