Wednesday 14 December 2016

Tips From the Motherofnine9

Think about being in a position of total submission to another person’s control, unable to meet your own needs, and the person in charge is not doing his job. When I ignored the warning signs that my kids were reaching their limits of endurance, I created either a clinging, whiny wimp or a screaming monster. Then nothing I did or said seemed to help the situation.
If I had to divulge one secret to making  childcare easier, one I was fortunate enough to discover early in my mothering career, it would be,
“Never let them get tired and never let them get hungry.”
There is a universal image stuck in our brains of a screaming toddler throwing a tantrum on the floor of a grocery store. Even the best parent becomes a helpless victim in these situations because nobody is as miserable and disagreeable as a hungry and irritable baby, toddler, or small child. This so-called temper tantrum is really a baby breakdown; they are over-stimulated, undernourished and physically exhausted without any tools to vent their frustration and anger.
This is simply the sort of behavior would you expect if a child becomes overloaded with sensory stimulation, hunger, and exhaustion.
Even adults get cranky, never mind little kids who can become just as unreasonable as an old curmudgeon, often experiencing complete meltdowns. In other words, little kids have a what we call a temper tantrum where onlookers assume they are simply spoiled rotten.
Sometimes I think we expect even better behavior from children than adults.
I might have looked like a self-sacrificing mother but I was merely acting out of a sense of self-preservation when I put my kids’ needs first. No time for resentment because happy and satisfied kids were worth every “sacrifice” I made. The peace was worth any compromise. One niece once told me that many people had given her advice when she became a new mother but the only thing she always remembered and practiced was,
“Never let them get tired and never let them get hungry.”

What advice would YOU share?

Sunday 6 November 2016

Encouraging Creative Play: Crocheted Playbooks



My Little House - a crocheted playbook

This crocheted playbook was fun to create; I think it will provide hours of playtime. It is for a granddaughter’s Christmas gift if I can wait that long to give it to her. I wanted to make sure it was still fun to play with even if the extras which can be snapped on, were lost. I crocheted a huge pocket on the back of the last page to store all the small interactive pieces and the dolls. I simply crocheted the pages together and they turn easily.
Although I changed details, especially the look of the dolls, it was based on  a pattern found on Creative Crochet Workshop .You will find detailed instructions for every page on this link.
front page
bedroom with closet for dresses



Thursday 13 October 2016

Presenting The REAL Seven Wonders


Celebrating the simple wonder of being alive with The REAL seven wonders of the world in images.

1. To see

2.  To hear

3.To  touch

4. To taste


5. To  smell





  • 6.To love

  • 7. To Laugh


  • Wednesday 28 September 2016

    The Day Cow Pies Exploded

    We expect playful pranks from boys in their early teens because they delight in stretching the boundaries. Firecrackers offer many exciting possibilities to a creative thirteen-year-old.
    My son, Joseph, along with a neighbour wondered what would happen if they lit a couple of firecrackers and threw them into the family’s country-style mailbox. The result was even funnier than they imagined as the metal door flew up and slammed shut again with a loud clang. Joseph and Riley doubled over with hoots of laughter.
    Unfortunately, for the boys, who should drive by at that exact moment?
    The principal from the local public high school.
    When the two boys noticed a car had stopped, they hopped on their bikes in a frenzy, rode down the long, curved, lane way to Riley’s house and lunged through the front door.
    However, that did not curtail this conscientious educator; he backed up his station waggon, followed the boys up to the house and rang the doorbell. The principle’s stern lecture mortified Riley’s mum and embarrassed the boys. Joseph sheepishly recounted his adventure at the dinner table that night and we just shook our heads.
    That incident was never repeated by my son but firecrackers in the hands of one father led to sheer mayhem at our house a few years later.
    We were barbecuing with a few other families. In the late afternoon, when the kids were getting restless and hungry, Pierre gathered the kids together, like he often did but this time he led them into the barnyard.
    What did this fun-loving father do to amuse the throng of children who surrounded him?
     Why he lit firecrackers and placed them in the middle of manure plops!
    We all heard the squeals and roars of approval from the kids. Before we knew what was happening, Pierre was paying the kids who dared to stand the closest to the smelly, disgusting explosions.
    We all shook our heads this time but smiled in spite of ourselves, wondering who was more mischievous, Pierre or the kids?

    That was before we saw the kids close up. They were splattered with manure.
    Actually, the foul-smelling gunk that covered all the kids couldn’t really be called  manure yet, it was fresh.
    The other mother’s and I were desperate to bathe our kids before dinner but we simply rinsed out their hair, gave quick sponge baths and I scrambled to find clothes to fit everyone. Rhonda, Pierre’s wife, fumed the loudest about stained clothing and Pierre looking sheepish, helped clean up his four small children.
    I must admit I had forgotten The Day Cow Pies Exploded until a chance meeting with an old friend triggered this memory, which might be best forgotten.
    My grown children  laughed in remembrance when I recounted this tale. I suppose that day is another example of the freedom, joy, and muck that a farm makes available to all playful kids, both short and very tall.

    Thursday 25 August 2016

    Easy Crochet Doll Furniture


    After I saw patterns which used pieces of cardboard or plastic  sheets with grids to make doll appliances, I thought of covering lego blocks with crochet. Then I added crocheted doors, countertops, handles, and buttons. The result was surprising and very appealing. I just wing it without a pattern;  cover stacked lego in continuous rounds and then make doors and counter tops separately and sew them on.

    This bed and dresser also have a lego base.
     I covered a plastic oval and container to make the table; the chair was scratched so I crocheted a sort of slip cover to match the table.
    I found a free pattern for the chair and cradle.
    http://happyberrycrochet.blogspot.ca/2014/02/crocheted-dolls-house-furniture.html

    http://mammathatmakes.blogspot.ca/search?updated-max=2012-05-01T10:26:00%2B10:00&max-results=3&start=33&by-date=false

    Thursday 28 July 2016

    The Joy of Gardening With Kids


    The joy of gardening with children can be experienced in pots on a balcony, in a garden the size of a sandbox, in a community patch in the inner city or in a country garden. Often farmers will rent space to city dwellers to garden. No matter how large or small, children will be just as delighted with the joy of raising their own food and tasting delicious fresh vegetables. Gardening is pretty basic. Stick the seed in the dirt, keep the seed moist till it is rooted, regularly water the growing plant in the sunshine, weed it and then sit back to watch nature take over.
    Up until a few years ago, our vegetable rows  were 75 feet long. The sheer volume of produce we grew was our insurance that the raccoons, groundhogs, rabbits, deer, mice and bears would not eat it all. We also grew enough vegetables to barter with neighbouring farmers, sold some on the roadside or simply gave our surplus to our generous family and friends.
     The garden was always the children’s domain as well as mine because I wanted them in the garden, connecting with the earth.Although our gardens were lush and colourful, they were hardly gorgeous showpieces. The toughest  perennial flowers were the only ones that survived at our house, ones that could withstand being yanked, stood on and sat on.
    I am an avid gardener but as I had more and more children, I soon realized that if I wanted the kids to enjoy gardening, I had to relax and let the kids help without stealing all their joy away by controlling every little step of the process. That meant crooked rows, unevenly spaced plants, seeds that were planted too deep or too shallow.Children love to dig in the warm earth, especially toddlers who will dig holes everywhere with a small plastic shovel. One year the dog even joined in, shoving us aside with his front digging wildly and dirt spraying everywhere he actually did save us work.Sometimes Daisy, our goat, was allowed to help weed, much to her delight.
    When children take part in planting seeds, watering growing plants and picking fruit and vegetables, they became attuned to the rhythms of nature. They will marvel at the power packed in a tiny seed because after planting one bean seed, they soon ate handfuls of green beans  they picked themselves. Let your kids pick and eat beans, snow peas, raspberries, strawberries and carrots straight from the garden as snacks. Actually eating what you have grown is fun. Now, after a lifetime of eating garden ripe tomatoes, corn picked as the water in a pot comes to a boil and huge plates of fresh green beans with butter and salt and pepper, store-bought garden produce tastes bland to our university kids when they live in dorms.
    Let your kids make games out of their jobs, stage competitions when they pick potato bugs, let them have water play after they help water the garden and help make rhubarb jam or freeze strawberries, currants, and raspberries. Gardening won’t just be a hobby; it can be a large part of their childhood.
    For example, I usually recruited the older children to pull vegetables for dinner every afternoon.
    Of course, the toddlers and preschoolers always jumped at the opportunity to tag along. It was an adventure to walk through our jungle of a vegetable garden because a tiny person could lose themselves among the tall plants and weeds . This transformed the daily ritual of picking vegetables into an exciting adventure.
    One particular day, rain had poured down for days, soaking our heavy clay soil; when everyone trooped out into the garden wearing rain or barn boots , they were soon coated with sticky clumps of clay. As one of my boys struggled to pull out a huge carrot, his boots sank so deeply into the mud that he couldn’t lift his feet.
    Everyone began giggling as Matthew struggled to extricate his younger brother. David was finally set free but left a boot behind.
    Of course, as he stood on one foot, attempting to free his boot, he fell, landing in the mud. Matt was laughing too hard to help again.
    Of course, the next rescuer slipped and landed on their bottom with their feet straight out and their bodies coated in sticky clumps of clay.
    It doesn’t take much imagination to figure out what happened next. The result was a bunch of laughing kids, covered from head to toe with mud.
    They startled me when they came to the door and even I had to laugh while I shook my head and tried to figure out what to do with all of them. Since it was hot enough, we started the clean-up outside. I peeled off ruined outer clothing, washed feet and legs in a bucket of warm water and then the older kids ran inside, one by one, to shower and  I carried a toddler and two preschoolers into the tub to bathe. It took three tubs of bubbly, warm water to cut through all that clay.
    I laughed yes but I did add,
    ” Remember, only one mud bath per year!”
    It actually  became a yearly tradition.

    Wednesday 20 April 2016

    Dowdy, If Not For Daughters

     
    My most devoted fashion critic and makeover specialist is Claire.
     
    Tiny, adorable, clever and independent Claire was also strong-willed, high maintenance and  rather high-strung. My fifth child, Claire was a beautiful little package of contradictions who gave me strife and hilarious joy, sometimes at the very same time. Most arguments were about clothes. Although her fashion sense has developed into a wonderful gift now that she is in her mid-twenties, at three and four-years-old this “gift” was a pain. Claire changed her clothes often throughout the day, from the age of two. Watching one of the few videos of our family, one of my older daughters pointed at the screen and laughed,
    “Look at Claire. That is the third time she has changed clothes during this video!”
    Sure enough, the pip squeak had another outfit on.4469404d0a64addfe8bcc67b59da8837
    Claire was always aware of what she was wearing as well as those around her, which often led to disagreements about what she could and could not wear. Although she was a mature, articulate, fashion conscious three-year-old, I was still concerned that Claire was too young to start four-year-old kindergarten. When she stomped into the house after the first morning, ranting about a little girl who had worn a “jean skirt with a matching jean jacket”, I realized that it was the school which was not quite ready for Claire!

    Alas, Claire's attention soon turned to her busy mother. I barely had enough time to make sure my dress was clean and I had brushed my teeth before I hustled everyone out the door. This changed when my daughters were in their late teens because they organized an all out assault to bring me into the 21st century. They took me to a hair salon for a cut and dye make-over, plucked my eyebrows, bought me clothes and make-up and forced me to throw out decade old comfy clothes. Claire has been the most persistent fashion advisor, however.
    camille-pissarro-peasant-woman-1880-large-1147142136One evening as I tried to rush out of the house, Claire looked up from her homework, looked me up and down disapprovingly and asked, very slowly,
    “Are you going out?”
    I answered in the affirmative.
    Claire continued, “And you’re wearing that?”
    I nodded slowly. I knew the direction that this conversation was headed.
    “I don’t think so”, she added, “Remember the navy pants that Melissa bought you for Christmas and the top that Rachel gave you on Mother’s Day? That would look really sharp with my light blue scarf and my little black belt. Could you pleeeease try it on?”
    I sighed and trudged back upstairs because it was easier just to comply. I must admit that she was right. Of course, once I came down, Claire had to jump up to adjust the belt and re-tie the scarf but as a result of listening to my daughter’s fashion advice, Michael, my husband, was pleasantly surprised.
    Really,though, Claire is an expert at changing outfits. She has been practicing since she was two-years-old.

    Saturday 19 March 2016

    Set Free to Write by Blogging

    Four years ago, when I closeted myself in a room to sit down and write, I froze. I considered writing to be a solitary craft but looking at a blank screen or talking into thin air was a sterile exercise in futility for me. I could not translate the same creative energy that I experienced telling a story verbally to the keyboard. My intuitive, imaginative side stayed buried and my logical intellect wrote boring drivel.
    Haynes King 1831 – 1904
    Haynes King 1831 – 1904
    I was struggling to start writing again, after raising a large family when I discovered blogs, blogging sites and  blogging directories. I snapped to attention.  Suddenly, I was thinking up a username,  a title for a blog,  looking at templates and design and layout. All these activities loosened up my creativity while I sat typing.
    It was like an invisible barrier slowly melted, allowing my imagination to bubble up in a stream of written words that felt just as exhilarating as my oral tradition. I was  excited to start sharing written stories with other people, people who would read them,  respond, comment and give me feed back on what I had written.  Within weeks, I was no longer an island but part of a community of other writers who had the very same insecurities and problems as I did.
    At first I felt like I had just stepped off a spaceship into an alien world, I did not know how to do anything. Reading directions on-line was useless, I couldn’t understand half the words they used, never mind how to follow their directions.womanwriting
    Early on I read that bloggers, are supportive and unselfishly helpful, rejoicing in each others success and offering free guidance . Well, I discovered that  this statement is true. So if you are tentatively  wondering if you will fit in, fear not. If a computer illiterate, web dummy can learn while having loads of fun, you can too. Trust me.