I'm a small-town Iowa wife, mom, daycare provider, scrapbooker, and slob. You can call me Princess.
I was supposed to post this yesterday, but the power outage destroyed that plan. So, finally, the winner of a $10 gift card from the Princess of Happy Fun Giveaways is . . .
Jenn from Random Thoughts!
Send me an email at princessofsomething AT gmail.com and I will get your information from you.
Congratulations!
The storm is ending. We slowly venture up the basement stairs, the boys still wearing their bike helmets. My mom heard once that bike helmets might protect a child’s head from flying debris, so when the siren sounded I strapped them on the boys before we took up our post in the basement. Now I absently remove them as I look out the window. The darkest clouds have moved to the East, though it is still sprinkling and the occasional burst of thunder still growls in the sky. Art goes outside to survey the damage, while I call my dad.
We’re all okay, I tell him. He had no idea why we shouldn’t be. I tell him about the storm, about the rotation Art had seen in the dark clouds, about our trip to the spidery back room of the basement. We have no power, I inform him, so he checks online to see if there are more storms headed our way. Maybe, he says. But probably not as bad.
Art comes in to reveal that a tree is down in our yard. I go out to see, and I meet the neighbors. People are slowly coming out of their houses, observing the branches down in their yards, checking to be sure their friends and acquaintances are okay. North of us, huge branches lay across the road, blocking it entirely. South, I think I see more limbs across our street, but I can’t tell because of the haze that rests in that direction.
I can’t tell what I’m looking at up there, my neighbor comments. The blare of distant sirens reveals the source of the haze. I make my way down the street, ask another neighbor if he knows what’s happening, whose home it is. He names someone I do not know, and I inwardly sigh with relief. We have friends who live along that part of the road. This neighbor and I silently clear fallen leaves and branches from the road. It is meaningless work– these are too small to impede traffic– but we both feel the unspoken need to do something, however meaningless, as if somehow these actions will help the family whose home is on fire.
The firetrucks are now arriving– volunteers who have raced across town to the fire station and who now are prepared to risk their lives to help a neighbor, a friend– if they can get there. Trees lay across the road in either direction, blocking access to the fire, forcing the heroes backward and around the block. Neighbors help clear branches from the fire hydrant near the blazing house.
My children now are peeking out of the house to see the wonders of the storm– the water– the branches– the people– the firetrucks. Within moments their shoes are off and they are splashing through the stream that our sidewalk has become. Their laughter seems out of place in the somber mood of our town, but as the sound of a chainsaw buzzes down from up the road, I decide to let them be children. There are enough of the rest of us worrying and working and praying. The people up the road are clearing the roadblock of fallen limbs out of the road. The next firetruck to arrive will have clear passage.
The boys are dripping wet and happy as clams, as I discuss the damage to the trees in our yard. One, only feet from our house, was apparently struck by lightning; it fell into the space between us and the neighbors. I am praising God for sparing our home, even as another siren blasts down our street. I pray for the strangers in the burning house. Why were we spared? Why were they not? These are questions I don’t know how to answer, but my heart cries to the God who is our Shelter, asking for grace and mercy for the people whose home is on fire.
We walk around the house with our soaking wet sons, taking in the damage. Nearly every tree in our yard has been injured. I try to imagine the people of Parkersburg, emerging from their basements to so much more destruction than a few downed trees. Even as I give thanks for being spared that horror, my heart breaks for the people who lost everything they had. These are things we simply can’t understand.
The chorus of “Till the Storm Passes By” is running through my head, and I sing as I drag branches across the yard to the brush pile.
Till the storm passes over,
Till the thunder sounds no more,
Till the clouds roll forever from the sky,
Lift me up, let me stand
In the hollow of Your hand.
Keep me safe till the storm passes by.
And again I pray for the family down the street. Their storm is just beginning.
We can only find two little votive candles; I am concerned about the food in the fridge; we can’t cook dinner. And I am, two hours after the storm, already experiencing internet withdrawal. But those things seem so small right now, as over and over the images of true tragedies flicker through my mind. I am so blessed, if my biggest problem is an inability to check my email.
I look around me, out my bedroom window at the fallen tree, and I praise God for sparing our lives, our home. As I give thanks for this mercy, my heart again and again turns to others who have not been spared. I cannot understand why God would allow the heartbreak of Parkersburg, of Katrina, to happen to others, yet spare me. But I do know that God has a purpose of every path, every heartache, every joy. His plan for me is different than his plan for the people of Parkersburg, but his rich mercies are new every morning for them as they are for me. And his great faithfulness extends to them as they rebuild their lives, as it does to me as I struggle to write by dusk and candlelight.
This morning I read, “A man’s steps are directed by the Lord. How then can anyone understand his own way?” (Proverbs 20:24). Tonight, as twilight fills my home, unchecked by the bright lights of a normal Sunday evening, I understand why the Lord directed my eyes to that verse today. He knew that I would need that reminder before the day was over. He directs my path. His hand guides me whether I walk through joy or heartbreak, whether my grief is overwhelming or I am just mildly annoyed. The way I walk is His way for me, and I am foolish if I expect to understand the path my life takes. His ways are so much higher than my own.
In the basement this afternoon, while the wind was blowing the boys’ pool to the backyard three doors down and lightning was striking up and down our street, Ryan and Sam and I were singing.
The Lord’s our rock, in Him we hide–
A Shelter in the time of storm.
Secure whatever ills betide–
A Shelter in the time of storm.
The raging storms may round us beat–
A Shelter in the time of storm–
We’ll never leave our safe retreat–
A Shelter in the time of storm.
Oh, Jesus is a Rock in a weary land,
A weary land, a weary land.
Oh, Jesus is a Rock in a weary land,
A Shelter in the time of storm.
———————————————————
I didn’t really intend to write about heartbreak this week. To be honest, I have been very blessed and haven’t had my heart broken that many times. My most recent heartbreak, my miscarriage in January, is always with me, but I wasn’t sure I wanted to write about it, for a variety of reasons. Then the storm hit and as I thought of the heartbreak of those who experience tragedies– who aren’t spared the heartbreak that my family and I were– well, then I had my story. Thanks for reading, and click on the icon to the left to read more stories about heartbreak.
I have been much amused by the town of Small Town, Iowa, this summer. In addition to the amazing church sign, Small Town has been busy entertaining me with its general weirdness.
First, I was stopping by our local Casey’s convenience store for my daily cup of caffeinated joy, when I noticed a sign in the window. A group had formed, it said, to clean up the parks of Small Town, Iowa. They would be meeting occasionally to pick up garbage and generally spruce up the area. This is lovely. Every town needs people who are willing to pitch in and clean up its public places. But the name of this group– shudder– is the Trash Termites. I have tried over and over to put into words my feelings about this name, but it is impossible. Even now, all I can say is that there are some things you should never sacrifice on the altar of alliteration. And the self-esteem of an entire group of people who are willing to spend their free time cleaning up after the rest of us is one of those things. Trash Termites. Eurgh.
Second, I have lived in Iowa for nearly eleven years now, and in other points Midwestern all my life. I have seen a lot of corn in that time. One of the most inspiring songs about Iowa ends in the rousing line “That’s where the tall corn grows.” And, if you’d like to know what it’s like to drive across our inspiring state, you might want to check out this video. All in all, it’s safe to say that around here we have a lot of corn. But this year the corn is blazing new territory, and possibly taking over the world, starting with my neighbor’s garage.
You can tell this is my neighbor’s garage because I included the weeds in this picture. Had it been my garage, I would have carefully edited them out.
Nothing says Iowa summer like the classic corn-and-siding picture.
That’s what I always say, anyway.
In other and completely unrelated news, I would like to include some links to recommend to you today. Mainly these are recipes, but first of all I’d like to send you to take a look at the Canvas of Happiness. I am entirely enamored of this idea and hope to try something like this in the near future.
Now, before I send you to these fabulous recipes, I need to add the disclaimer that I am by no means a cooking expert. These recipes work for me every time and fit my limited budget of both time and money, and that is why I am recommending them. I am not the Princess of Cooking, so I can pretty much guarantee that if these recipes work for me, they’ll likely work for you. That said, don’t call me if you mess them up. Trust me.
Zesty Slow-Cooker Chicken Barbecue Sandwiches
This recipe is based on this one from allrecipes.com, which is where I head pretty much whenever I need a recipe. It’s actually based on the instructions in one of the comments, but the sauce is what they say in the recipe.
Ingredients
Instructions
This recipe is soooo good. And it gets better as leftovers, so make lots. 
The rest of these I pretty much follow the recipe exactly so I’m not typing it here.
Yummy Pizza Crust/Bread Dough for the Bread Machine
I found this recipe at allrecipes.com when I was searching for a pizza crust recipe for my bread maker. It is excellent as pizza dough, but it is also amazing just as a basic bread. You can leave the garlic in or take it out. I have baked it as loaves, as rounds of dough on a cookie sheet, as the crust for calzone, using half whole wheat flour, using brown sugar because I ran out of white, using both bread machine yeast and regular yeast, and it is impossible to mess it up. The texture is soft and yummy. And it’s extra good with homemade butter. You want to try it, trust me. Click here for the recipe.
I even took a picture!
Crash Hot Potatoes
I found these while stumbling, and they are as yummy as they look, although mine never look as good as hers. My husband and I prefer to eat these while standing over the pan immediately after they come out of the oven, because they are best when they are so hot they burn you.
Double Berry Cobbler
Finally, I was forced– forced I tell you, to use this recipe when we discovered mulberries at one of the parks here in Small Town, Iowa. I didn’t have quite the number of berries called for in the recipe so I chopped up some strawberries and added those in as well. A couple notes, there’s more sugar than you need in the berry mixture– I have a serious sweet tooth and thought it was too much. And you probably want to take the dough portion of the recipe times 1 1/2. I doubled it and it was too much. That said, this stuff is good. And it gets better as leftovers in your lunch the following day. And then it’s gone because it’s so good you can’t stop snitching it directly out of the pan.
Seriously. Look at that. I want some right now.
Yesterday the purchase of ten pairs of size small boys’ underwear and a bag of socks nearly sent me hurtling over the edge into an emotional episode. Today he got a brand new red backpack and as he wore it to the van, exploding with pride, it was all I could do to prevent myself from plopping down on the sidewalk, face in hands, and weeping until someone came to take me away and lock me up.
In twenty-five days my little boy starts kindergarten. Twenty-five days. Wasn’t it only twenty-five days ago that I was crying, “It’s a baby, it’s a baby!” as that little squalling bundle lay across my chest? The testimonies of thousands of pictures, hundreds of scrapbook pages, years of memories would deny it, but my heart is quite certain that he came to us only a few short moments ago.
“He will still need you, Erin,” consoles my mom, who wept for an hour on my first day of kindergarten. Yes, he will still need me. To get him up in the morning, take him to school. To make his lunches, listen to the tall tales his new friends will spin for him at recess and at snack time. To quiz him on his spelling and correct him when he’s mean to his brother and praise him when he finally writes the n in his name correctly. And even when he no long needs those things, he will still need me, as I need my mom and the knowledge that I am in her prayers and in her heart.
But it seems that all his life my son has been leaving me, from the moment I delivered him, to the day he first toddled away from me and not toward me, to his first day of preschool last fall. And now– the world has determined that at five and a half, my son no longer needs me for those eight hours of the day. He is ready now, so they say, to face the world without me watching over him. But my heart screams that he is my little boy, who still can’t tie his shoes or ride his bike without training wheels or even brush his teeth thoroughly. How can he possibly be ready for school? How will he possibly survive without me there?
My head knows that my son is ready– that he has been ready for months. And I am so excited for him, as I watch him count down the days and share all his big plans and practice writing his alphabet (his idea, not mine) so he’ll be ready for school. He knows his teacher’s name and his school’s name and his parents’ names and his phone number and even though I know he’s nervous he is mostly just excited. He’s going to do so well. I thrived in school, and he will too. I am so happy for him.
My heart and my head do not agree on this subject. Send him out– he is ready says the one. Keep him here– hold him tight says the other. And I finally understand why my mom cried on my first day of school. And why she cried at my graduation, and at the birth of this son who even now is walking away from me. I even understand why she cried during those Hallmark commercials when the son came home and the mother hugged him tight.
The joy my children bring me– it is amazing, and full, and beautiful. I am so proud of the people my boys are becoming. But that joy– that pride– they are mixed with the sadness of knowing that every accomplishment, every job well done, every moment is another step away from me. This is the bittersweetness of life.
My mom tells me that when my sister and I moved out, for awhile she was depressed by the realization that no one needed her anymore. Then one day she woke up and realized no one needed her and that she was free to do her own thing. My dad would undoubtedly say that when she realized Laura and I no longer needed her, my mother immediately found seven hundred other things that needed her attention. And I would say that if she thinks no one needs her, my mom is mistaken. But I think I understand– after twenty years of having children under her roof, the realization that she was free of some of those responsibilities must have felt like a breath of fresh air.
I imagine that someday I will feel the same way.
But for today, well, I’m the one in the boys’ underwear aisle at WalMart, crying my eyes out into a pair of size small Transformers briefs.
My son is off to kindergarten.
In twenty-five days.
Note: Mr. Linky is having issues, apparently. I have never used him before, so maybe he just doesn’t work as well in WordPress as he does in Blogger. So . . . go ahead and enter your link in the comment section, and I will add it to the bottom of my post. Sorry– that’s totally annoying!
This is it! The day you’ve all been waiting for! The epic Book Experience where I open up the blog for everyone to join in! AND those of you who participate will be entered in a sweet rocking Princess of Something drawing for a gift card! WAHOO, right?
Note: Mr. Linky will be appearing in the Book Experience from now on. Mr. Linky is very friendly and easy to use. Do not be afraid of Mr. Linky. Also, the fabulous happy happy joy joy giveaway will not be happening every week. Sorry, guys, but I’m just not that rich. If I were, you know I’d shower you all with joy and happiness and free stuff each and every week.
So . . . here’s what Expert Book Experiencers Stinky and Bubs did this week!
We have kind of been all over the place, with story books and a chapter book, and this week we delved into the world of nonfiction with the book Cross a Bridge. This is a book my mom gave Ryan that he absolutely loves. If you have little boys in your life, chances are they will enjoy it as well. (Sorry for the faily quality of all these pictures, we did this in the evening and I had to use the flash on all of them. Also, the Expert Book Experiencers were a bit squirrelly.)
The first project we did was to make bridges out of Legos. This took about three seconds. I believe that Expert Book Experiencer Bubs said that this is a stone arch bridge.
Expert Book Experiencer Stinky informed me that this is a covered bridge.
Then my Expert Book Experiencers created some artwork that sort of mimics the artwork in the book. I drew the shapes for them and then they cut them out and glued them down. Once again, Expert Book Experiencer Stinky wanted to create a covered bridge and Expert Book Experiencer Ryan wanted to create a stone arch bridge.
I think that Expert Book Experiencer Stinky is getting to be a pretty good cutter for someone who’s not even four yet. (I have no idea what the orange stuff on his nose is, FYI.)
And here is Expert Book Experiencer Bubs and his glue stick of power.
And here they are with their finished pieces– I cut out all the fish, by the way. The boys’ small motor skills are improving but not that well.
And finally, because food projects are becoming a tradition here at the Book Experience with Stinky and Bubs, we made candy bridges. This would be candy from the Fourth of July parade. I have about eight tons of it so it was good to get rid of some. We cut a couple of those little Frootie candies in half, then used Laffy Taffy to make the bridge.
And with their finished Edible Artwork:
Expert Book Experiencers Stinky and Bubs, of the Freakishly Large Hands, give Cross a Bridge four thumbs up!
And now it’s your turn. I will announce a winner on Sunday morning, so you have a couple days to do your own Book Experience if you haven’t already. This is such a fun thing to do– it stretches me to find activities and is a lot of fun for the kiddos Expert Book Experiencers.
Can’t wait to see what you come up with!!!
Julie K in Taiwan– Five Green and Speckled Frogs
EeyoreLynn– Rex and Lilly Schooltime
Margaret’s Coffee Drinking Scrap Talking Hot Spot– Amanda Pig, First Grader
There is nothing as demoralizing as driving down the road with your blinker turned on, knowing that everyone around you thinks you’re a moron for not turning it off, and not being able to turn it off. The nice stick that has the blinkers and the headlights on it was apparently tired of sticking out perkily from the steering column and decided it would be much more pleasant to dangle uselessly in the eternally left-blinker-on position. Click-click. Click-click. Art finds it entertaining. I find it humiliating. This is just the last in the never-ending series of fails that is our car. In addition to signaling turns into houses, barns, cornfields, and large bodies of water, the car also possesses no driver-side sun visor, no air conditioning, and no power steering. Also the speakers are blown out. And yet the darn thing just keeps on driving, like that knight on Monty Python who, after having all his limbs removed, insists that it’s “merely a flesh wound.” So sorry, Small Town, Iowa, but the Princess of the FailCar will still be driving it– with the brights on (did I mention they’re stuck on?), cranking the steering wheel like a madwoman to try to get the car to turn, listening to the twitch-inducing symphony of those staticky, blown-out speakers and the eternally-on left turn signal. Click-click. Click-click.
In other news, last night I was required by the state of Iowa to attend a class called “Universal Precautions.” For those of you who do not work with children (and I assume some variation of this class is offered to hospital staff, nursing home staff, anyone who cares for people), Universal Precautions is an annually required training course that reminds you just how gross your job really is. Generally, when I have taken this class I have had to watch a video, the highlight of which is when a woman scrubs her counters with a piece of raw, bloody chicken to demonstrate how germs are spread from sponges and such. Basically the whole point of this class is WASH YOUR HANDS YOU IDIOTS!!! AND WHILE YOU’RE AT IT, WASH EVERYTHING ELSE YOU EVER TOUCH! AND WEAR GLOVES!!! AND DON’T TOUCH POOP OR PEE OR BLOOD OR BOOGERS OR ANY OTHER BODILY FLUID!!! AND WASH YOUR HANDS!!!!! Every time I take this class I spend the next week or so compulsively washing my hands, like Monk on crack. It’s just so gross.
Well, this time around I lucked out and was not asked to watch the bloody chicken video. Instead, I was instructed by a fascinating woman by the name of Kiki (my sons were very entertained when I told this to them), who taught the entire hour-long class without once looking at her notes. She was awesome, really. I mean, no one likes to take these classes but she was able to convey the needed information without boring us to death, and also without ever even mentioning raw meat of any kind. Her main points? WASH YOUR HANDS YOU IDIOTS!!! AND WHILE YOU’RE AT IT, WASH EVERYTHING ELSE YOU EVER TOUCH! AND WEAR GLOVES!!! AND DON’T TOUCH POOP OR PEE OR BLOOD OR BOOGERS OR ANY OTHER BODILY FLUID!!! AND WASH YOUR HANDS!!!!! Some things never change.
Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to go wash my hands. And the keyboard. And the entire computer desk. And . . .
We took a lot of pictures on our epic weekend away. As in, around 500 pictures. In slightly more than two days. And when I say we, I really mean Art, who takes any visit to a zoo as an opportunity to brush up on his photography skills. And after going through all of them and choosing out the best ones, I had forty pictures. Forty. So instead of putting them in my blog like usual, I’m just adding the gallery of thumbnails and you can click on them if you want to see the bigger version. They’re awesome pictures, in my opinion, but I know that’s just a lot.
Anyway, before I post the pics, I want to just say what a blessing this getaway was for us. I found a fabulous deal on a hotel room, so we stayed in a studio suite with a full kitchen for sixty bucks a night. Which let us save a lot of money on eating out. Which was necessary because Faildog decided to get an ear infection and require much expensive medication. The boys were awesome. They got very tired– this was their first time in a hotel and their first time ever sharing a bed, so they had a hard time getting to sleep both nights. But they were just a joy to have along, and we had a lot of fun together.
Friday afternoon we headed north, stopping for a little walk at the world’s campiest rest area (see picture below) before we reached our hotel. Well, actually we stopped at about every rest area between Small Town, Iowa, and Eagan, Minnesota, because when you’re traveling with two small boys that’s just what you do. But only one rest area was photo worthy.
When we got to the hotel, we discovered that the pool that Expedia said the hotel had was actually nonexistent. But miraculously the boys were totally okay with it and there was no meltdown (except possibly on my part, when I realized no pool meant no hot tub for Mommy). So Friday night, after the boys jumped on the beds for awhile and after we had dinner, we headed to the Mall of America to look around. While we were there we decided that if they were good for the next couple days (and if we didn’t spend the entire vacation fund in the meantime), we would return Sunday so they could ride one ride each.
Friday night, in spite of not having a nap, the boys were so excited by their fancy sofa bed and their fancy hotel room and their fancy vacation that they did not actually fall asleep till after 10:00.
Saturday we went to the Minnesota Zoo. This was another huge blessing: because we have a membership to the Blank Park Zoo in Des Moines, we get in free to the MN Zoo. We paid $5 for parking and had a day of fun. The boys got their faces painted like leopards, and we got to watch a dolphin show, which was totally awesome but at that point the camera battery died. 
Then we went back to the hotel for lunch and a nap, and returned to the zoo for a few more hours in the evening. Our very favorite part was the butterfly garden. There are several pictures of it below, all Art’s handiwork. He really does take gorgeous pictures.
Saturday night we had pizza and watched funny cars on ESPN for awhile before the boys decided they would rather build with Legos and read Stuart Little (I love my kids– have I mentioned that lately?). They giggled in bed for about 45 minutes before finally falling asleep around 10:30.
Sunday morning we slept in till about ten minutes after daybreak (Ryan is a morning person. Sigh). Then we laid in bed for another hour before getting up, eating breakfast, and packing up the van again. Our final stop in Minnesota was, again, the Mall of America, where each boy got to choose one ride to ride (Set us back $15– sheesh). Sam chose a little roller coaster that went around the track about ten times. I was his “chaperone” because he was one inch too short to ride by himself, but I was cool with that because I rode free and it was fun. Then Ryan was ready for his big moment– to ride a real roller coaster.
I should probably explain that I absolutely positively love roller coasters. I mean, I love them. Have since the minute I was tall enough to ride at Six Flags Great America. I hadn’t been on one in more than ten years, so you can imagine that I was all about encouraging Ryan to try it out. And he was very excited. And it was so much fun– for me. Ryan got a little freaked out. I think he would have been fine but the one he chose spun around in addition to flying down the track, and that kind of scared him. If you look at the “after” picture you will notice that he is a little pale. But he said he’d like to ride another one again sometime, and that he thought it was fun even though it was scary. I’m pretty sure that Sam is going to be my fast ride lover, though. As long as I have one, I’m happy.
On the way home, we stopped in Dows, Iowa, where they have several historical landmarks including an old train depot, a blacksmith shop, and a one-room schoolhouse. Then we finished the drive back to Small Town, Iowa, where the boys ate dinner and went to bed at 6:45 pm and slept straight through till I woke them up the following morning at 6:45 am.
Possibly the best moment of the trip was on the way home, when Ryan said “Mommy, thank you for taking us on this fun trip to Minnesota.” Love that kid.
Enjoy the pictures! Somehow I missed two when I uploaded, so you only have to look at thirty-eight!
This is my one hundred and first post, and in celebration I am doing something new. If this blog had a soundtrack, there would be a drumroll here.
In honor of one hundred and one fabulous, entertaining, and enlightening posts by yours truly, I am hosting my first ever Princess of Something Happy Happy Joy Joy Bloggy Giveaway!
And what, you ask, am I giving away?
I’m so glad you asked.
One lucky winner will receive a $10 gift card to one of the following places:
All you have to do is participate in Friday’s Book Experience with Stinky and Bubs. Click the link to learn more about it. And tell your friends! One of you will get that rockin’ gift card. And seriously, it just doesn’t get any better than that.
Tune in the rest of the week for pictures of our trip!
This week’s project theme over at Unplug Your Kids was glass, which sounded a little scary to me. What could I do with the theme of glass that wouldn’t put my children’s lives in danger? Thankfully google once again came through for me, providing the recipe for these rocking Stained Glass Cookies.
It’s honestly a miracle we ever had time to do these, considering what a crazy week we had last week with VBS at church every night and our family’s getaway to the Twin Cities on Friday, Saturday, and Sunday, but somehow we got them done.
I made the dough ahead of time, so the first thing the boys got to do was crush up the candy for the inside of the cookies. We used Jolly Ranchers. I put each color in a separate freezer bag and let the boys at it with Art’s hammer and my rolling pin.
I’m sure it will shock you to learn that they really liked this part.
Making thin strips of dough into shapes was the most challenging part for the boys. I helped them quite a bit at first, but they started to figure it out as they got into it.
Note: the recipe doesn’t tell you to do this, but I covered my cookie sheet in foil and then sprayed it with cooking spray. It worked fabulously at the end so I could peel the cookies right off.
Once we had our shapes made, we filled the spaces with crushed up candy.
Here they are, ready to go into the oven.
And here we have the finished product. Don’t they look cool? I sent one with Ryan in his lunch on Thursday and greatly impressed all my coworkers.
A couple notes about these cookies. First, if you’re looking for the yummiest cookies ever, don’t bother with these. The combination of cookie dough and Jolly Ranchers is kind of nasty, although the boys liked them. These cookies are fabulous for showing off how cool of a mom you are, not how great of a baker you are. Second, should you decide to take these cookies along with you on a trip to Minnesota, and should you stuff them all into a baggie and put them in your snack box and leave them in the van for several hours while you go sightseeing, it is fairly likely that they will melt into a big smooshie mess. Hypothetically, of course.
And there you have this week’s unplugged project. At this point, Mom Unplugged hasn’t posted this week’s post at her blog, but I encourage you to go over there when she does and check out the other ideas using the theme glass.
Tonight I hope to post some pictures of our little trip, it was a wonderful weekend– I don’t think I could have asked for anything better.
Have a great one!
I know this post has a ridiculously long name, and I apologize. But before I begin this week’s Book Experience with Stinky and Bubs, I wanted to announce that beginning next Friday, on July 25, you, my wonderful readers, will be invited to participate in the Book Experience. All you have to do to participate is find a book your kids enjoy, read it with them, and then do some kind of project that ties in with the book– the blog about it. It doesn’t matter how old or young your kids are, or what their interests are, or how long the book is, just get in there and do something fun. If you need ideas for activities, I highly recommend google. Anyway, each week I will put a Mr. Linky in the bottom of my post so you can link your blog to mine. Some of you have already suggested some books to me, and this will be a great way to find new books (and related activities) to experience with your children. I would love to have you participate with us!
So, with no further ado, I now present The Book Experience with Stinky and Bubs, Part 2.
This week’s installment is a chapter book. My husband enjoys reading chapter books with the boys, and Ryan in particular enjoys them. They have just finished reading a classic, Little House in the Big Woods.
This book was right on the level where Expert Book Experiencer Ryan (age 5 1/2) is as far as understanding. It was a little much for Expert Book Experiencer Sam (age 3 1/2), who usually listened for awhile and then wandered off to play in Happy Stinky Land.
Now that they have finished the book, we decided to do a couple projects to celebrate this classic of children’s literature. First we made log cabins from popsicle sticks.
Expert Book Experiencer Sam chose to only include Laura (in red) on his picture. Expert Book Experiencer Ryan included the whole family, except Baby Carrie, for reasons that have yet to be discovered. Then they added some trees to make the “Big Woods.” This was possibly the hardest part for my sons, being that living in Iowa does not offer many opportunities to see Big Woods. Oh well.
Then Mommy got very brave and we decided to do a food project. We decided to make our own butter. I found these easy instructions and after purchasing heavy whipping cream and cleaning out a jar of pickle relish, we were ready to begin. Basically you just pour the cream into the jar, seal it tightly, and then shake it.
We passed it around the family and everyone got a turn to shake it. Actually, everyone got several turns. We probably shook it for about seven minutes total, and then miracle of miracles it separated just like it was supposed to.
Here are the boys with their finished bowl of butter.
And enjoying homemade bread with their homemade butter (life doesn’t get much better than this).
And there you have it! Our Book Experience of Little House in the Big Woods was a good one. Not sure what’s coming next– I think Art’s going to read an adaptation of Tom Sawyer but it will probably be awhile before we get there. I guess you’ll just have tune in next week for The Book Experience with Stinky and Bubs– and bring a book to share, okay?
Expert Book Experiencers Stinky and Bubs give Little House in the Big Woods Four Thumbs Up!
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