La La... Lollies!

For the past few days, I've been playing with five very beautiful children. Of course, I'm biased; those five children came from the wombs of my sister and me. Since I think they are all as sweet as can be, I decided to do  a fun little project: Homemade lollipops.

The concept is really quite simple. I went to Michael's and spent only $11 on more than enough supplies (it could have been cheaper, but I got the fancy foil wrappers...). And as an added bonus -- Teachers get 15% off! Whippee! I purchased the following:

• a bag of assorted Jolly Ranchers
• a bag of old fashioned cherry hard candy
• lollipop sticks
• parchment paper
• fancy colored foil candy wrappers

For our first set of lollipops, the kids and I arranged the Jolly Ranchers in rows of three, whatever colors/flavors we wanted, on parchment paper. Then we put the tray in the oven for about 7 minutes at 275 degrees. When I pulled them out, we stuck in the sticks quickly before the candy re-hardened. 

I put them in the fridge to cool faster while we worked on our second set of lollipops. This time, we put different colored candies in plastic snack bags, and I crushed the pieces a few times (with a wrench because I couldn't find a hammer at my sister's house...). 

Then we all arranged our candy pieces mosaic style on the parchment paper. Elena and I made flowers, Micah made a blobby man, and Christian made a colorful pile of something-or-other. 

Those melted for a few minutes in the oven; then we admired our delicious handiwork. 

Ahhh yes, vibrant globs of un-uniform candy. Simply perfect. 

While they were cooling, we taste-tested our first lollipops. They were, as expected, absolutely delicious. 

(The babies got a little lick too.)

We wrapped the remaining lollipops in colorful foil to save for later (or, as I encouraged, gift-giving). 

It was a quick and easy, inexpensive, undeniably and deliciously fun afternoon activity. And in between licks of her lollipop, my niece exclaimed, "This is the BEST day ever!" (The boys were too busy licking their lollipops to say anything at all). 

Kara's Adventures in Unadventureland

I came to the conclusion a while back ago that I am a strange sort of perfectionist. Not that I do anything perfectly (at all!) but that I often expect perfection out of myself, and even sometimes out of others as well. I won't go into how unrealistic and unfair that is of me... this time. No, today I am thinking about my strange perfectionism, and how I allow it to cripple me. So often I want to make changes in my life, but I am petrified of messing up or not having the desired outcome, so I fear to make that first step.

When I used to work my Dream Job, I would often counsel with students who were struggling beginning to write a paper. So often over the years I heard, "I just don't know where to start!" Perhaps somewhere along their life journeys they heard the absolutely wretched advice to "begin at the beginning... and go on till you come to the end: then stop"  (Alice's Adventures in Wonderland). My go-to counsel for such a frustration was simply this: Start anywhere! Start in the middle, or even at the end! You can always go back and build around wherever you start. Sometimes it would take a lot of coaxing to get a student to relax enough to start writing a paper in the middle. Wasn't that cheating or somehow not following the rules? In one of my finer moments in teaching (tongue in cheek) I told my students that freewriting was like Outback Steakhouse. No rules. Just write (/tongue in cheek). I saw many students go from frustrated and bound with tight ropes by writer's block to writing fabulous papers.

*Ahem* I give others such very good advice... Why don't I follow it? I allow fear of failure to dictate how much of my life I am really living. I allow fear of getting in over my head to keep me from actually trying to accomplish my goals and desires.

I decided I'm going to try to break free from these constraints and start accomplishing the goals I set years ago. I'm trying not to be petrified of falling on my face in dirty old mud and risk looking like an imbecile in front of family, friends, and perfect strangers. I decided a good place to start was in the middle -- my blog... and writing, which has been a life-long goal -- and I can always go back and build around my small successes. I don't want to be afraid of taking that first step, or fifth step, or 100th step anymore.

Grind 'em Beans

Sometimes I get caught up bemoaning that my life doesn't seem, at first glance, to be spectacular or even interesting for that matter. The daily grind, the routine my life seems to follow, feels more like survival mode than experiential living. I'm stuck in the cycle of invariably chasing that next cup of coffee to get me through the day.

I'm mostly at home, unconventionally educating my son, chasing the tot... always getting someone a snack, always taking on the Laundry Monster (whose hp continuously regenerates), forever picking up toys and putting them in bins, only to turn around and see that one kid or the other has dragged out 10 more.

Even as I sit on the couch to write, I have my daughter offering me toys, and she resorts to bellowing when I'm not interested in pushing the buttons on her pretend phone for the 100th time. She's so offended that I would want to carve out a few minutes to write or check my email or stare blankly off into space pondering how I can survive the crazy years with my sanity intact. She hands me the phone, again, and I push a button, again, and she giggles over the obnoxiously peppy music that erupts from the speaker. Again. She's heard that perky tune 101 times now in the last 10 minutes. Why is she still giggling? Why doesn't she throw down the toy in disgust and say she can't listen to it one more time without being committed to the looney bin? She holds some secret I've forgotten.

I realize that I want to learn from her, even as I constantly mold her young, forming mind. She's watching me -- brush my hair, cook dinner, read to her brother, scoop up handfuls of small wooden fruit and put them away in the small, pretend market basket. And I watch her -- tuck her favorite doll under her arm as she searches for a hair brush, stand at her play kitchen piling play dishes in the play sink, hold a book in front of her doll's face, tuck the pretend market basket in the cabinet where it belongs.

We do this every day. And it is spectacular. If I could freeze these moments, I would want to go back a hundred or more times to look at them, to remember with fondness the wonder of this experience. Even though the daily grind can get monotonous and tiresome in its tediousness, I'm encouraged to grind away at these beans anyway.

Because after all, every peppermint frappuccino started out as a handful of beans that needed a good grinding.

When Things are Hard

"Nobody said it was easy
No one ever said it would be this hard" The Scientist, Coldplay. 


I was poking around some of my old music this past weekend, and came across my Coldplay collection. Coldplay is one of the few mainstream bands I can listen to without cringing these days (thanks to my Husbeast for turning me into a music snob), and several of the band's songs have especially memory-provoking attributes for me. Rob and I danced to "Green Eyes" at our wedding, so that song can almost always bring on a nostalgic tear or two. 


"Honey you should know
That I could never go on without you"


 When Annabelle was wee and jaundiced, I used to sing "Yellow" to her... 


"Your skin 
Oh yeah your skin and bones 
Turn into something beautiful"

There's something soothing about simple, heartfelt songs with meaningful yet uncontrived lyrics. When I listened to "The Scientist" again, I sat and pondered the difficulty of life at times. I know I haven't chosen the easier paths of least resistance in many cases. Often, I choose more challenging directions in life because I believe them to be more noble, more rewarding in the long run, more in line with my beliefs about life, love, parenting, generosity, peace on Earth... goodwill toward humankind and all that. Nobody said it would be easy. But wow, I didn't know it was going to be this hard. 


I had a conversation with Rob this weekend about the weather (aren't we a profound couple?). Tallahassee isn't known for its idyllic weather. Oh no, Tallahassee has despicable weather. It's chilly and dreary in the winter (but with no snow), and it's hotter and more humid than an arm pit in the summer. However, for a few very short weeks in the spring, and even fewer shorter weeks in the fall, Tallahassee has breathtakingly lovely, soul-nourishing weather. Those are the weeks when it is pleasure to be alive, sucking in cool crisp clean air and feeling warm beautiful sunshine on skin. 


Rob and I decided we were ready for for a little spring in our lives, a period of less stress, less blood sweat and tears, a time when we can just sit back and take a breather, even if just for a short while. It's hard to find that place in between too cold and too hot, much harder than one might imagine. But then again, nobody said it was easy. 

Miso Crafty

My attempts at being crafty are usually dismal failures. This truth has no bearing my my attempts.

Today's fun, messy, somewhat-successful project was dyeing three playsilks using koolaid and vinegar.

I started out with 2 cups of water, 1/2 cup of vinegar, and a blank silk scarf. Exhibit A:

I was going for a purple color, so I mixed  Black Cherry and a Blue Something Or Other Koolaid packets. The red definitely prevailed, and as I was stirring the mixture, I suddenly was reminded that this very same bowl caught my placenta when Annabelle was born. Good memories. Exhibit B:

I microwaved for three minutes, cooled for two minutes, and microwaved again for three minutes. I then soaked it in vinegar, and gave it a cool bath under some running water. After drying... Exhibit C:

Not too bad for an uncrafty craft-wanna-be!

I wanted something kind of teal/turquoise, so I mixed blue and green packets of koolaid. I could tell right away that the green would prevail (blue koolaid is totally weak. Next time I'll double the blues.)

But the green is pretty nonetheless.

The smell of baking koolaid enticed Micah into the kitchen. He wanted to try it too. This time I mixed two oranges and one pink.

I had to tell him several times that the mixture, as fruity as it smelled, would not taste good. He had fun stirring and microwaving, though.

I ran out of koolaid, but I am going to do this again! It's fun, and it worked!

Out-Bound Homebody

I've been thinking about my life these last 9 months I've been a mother to two children, and if there is one word to describe this point in the life of my family, "homebodies" would correctly articulate our lives for four reasons:

1. In May of '09, I left my beloved job of nine years to become a stay-at-home mom; 
2. In August of '09, my husband started working for his company at home rather than their business office; 
3. In November of '09,  I home-birthed my daughter; and
4. In January of '10, I pulled my son out of public Kindergarten and began our homeschooling journey.


If that doesn't make us homebodies, I'm not entirely sure what else we could do to epitomize that sentiment. 


As I approach my return to the workforce, I feel a nostalgic sense of how my life has been exponentially enriched by a life that is considered reclusive to much of mainstream society. During this time, I have 

(in addition to enlarging somewhat)

Watched my son grow from an only child to a big brother

Grown in my journey of becoming a friend and partner to my husband

Encountered awkward and challenging home-schooling moments 

Explored one hobby

(photography)

And another hobby (cooking)

Being a homebody has caused me to look within myself beyond a career woman, beyond a capitalist in search of the next fad to buy, beyond what most members of my society think of as routine mainstream ideas and lifestyles, and most importantly question and grow in my contribution to my home, family, neighborhood, church and community. 

Some of the answers that have revealed themselves to me haven't been easy ones to digest. On the contrary, I consider the last year one of growth and sometimes uncomfortable stretching, during which I've had to ameliorate my faith. 

Three years ago (to the month), I wrote about being on the verge of a great and monumental, life-changing cliff. Two months after writing that, I began a relationship with a young man who became my husband and father to my daughter. 

Today I have that feeling again: On the cusp of some life-changing happenstance (perhaps more cerebral this time), and again, I pray that I will have the strength, determination, and insight to deal appropriately and graciously with circumstances as they arrive. There comes a time when I have to leave the safety net of my home-bound perspective, and I am humbly thankful for the time I had to grow in understanding and be enriched by my homebody family.  

The Unlikely Pizza Pit