Mommy Guilt Redemption Eludes Me

How do you know when your “mommy guilt” has gotten the best of you? When you knit your son a Christmas stocking, and he tells you to give it to the cat.
Last year, I wrote about how I guiltily “fast-tracked” a Christmas stocking for James by buying some premade felt ornaments and gluing them on a felt stocking I whip-stitched together. This stocking took me a few hours to make, compared to the many, many hours I spent sewing sequins on Ethan’s Christmas stocking. James’s stocking had the same glittery impact as Ethan’s, but deep down, I thought it was a sham.
Then, in October, I saw a pattern for a knitted stocking, and I had to buy it for James. The stocking took a few weeks to knit, compared to the few hours I spent on James’ first stocking. The amount of time I put into this project helped me write off my mommy guilt.
I confidently presented the stocking to James, anticipating his face lit up with joy over my effort. But instead of “Wow!”, I got “Eh.” What’s wrong? “Don’t you want this stocking instead of your old one?” I asked. “No,” he responded. “You should give it to Molly.”
I had gotten it all wrong. James didn’t care how many hours I put into a project, he just wanted a glittery stocking like his big brother’s. I should have left well enough alone.
So, Molly, what do you want for a stocking stuffer?

Have You Seen This Skunk?

Recently, our household has undergone a major tragedy. Someone has gone missing.
But before you start checking the news for Amber alerts, let me tell you who the victim is—a stuffed animal skunk whose name is Skunkers.
Skunkers 1 and 2 became a part of our family a few months ago when we dined at McDonald’s. Ethan and James each got a Happy Meal, which also happened to be the home of a stuffed animal skunk. Of course I let them take the darling creatures home. Ethan and James named their skunks Skunkers, played with them intensely for a few hours, and then tossed them in their rooms’ stuffed animal heaps.
Unfortunately, it wasn’t until Skunkers 1 went missing that I realized he how important he was to James. Their fun times came to an end when we bought our new couch.
See, we not only got rid of Couchy to make room for Mr. Couch. We also got rid of a recliner, which, unbeknownst to me, was the home of James’ skunk.
A week ago, James tearily accused me of my crime. I was sitting at the dining room table working on my lap top when he approached me. “Mommy!” he said. “You got rid of Skunkers!”
“What are you talking about?” I asked. “Here’s Skunkers,” I said, pointing to a stuffed skunk laying our living room carpet.
“That’s Ethan’s Skunkers,” he explained. “We played a game with both skunks and I put mine in between the cushions of the recliner and now you’ve gotten rid of the recliner so now he’s gone!!!” His balled-up fists pressed against his eyes to stop the flowing tears.
I swallowed down my panic. “James, I’m sure you didn’t leave Skunkers in the recliner. He will turn up. In the meantime, why don’t you play with this skunk?”
“No!” he said. “That’s Ethan’s skunk. Mine is gone!”
Over the past week, I’ve hoped James’s accusations were wrong, but Skunkers 1 has yet to appear. So now I’m putting out own version of an Amber alert, asking that if you happen to see a skunk that looks like the one in the photo, please send him our way. It will make one mommy—I mean boy—very happy.

American Girl, I Don't Think So

Ordering my sons something for Christmas from this catalog would, in their minds, be the equivalent of putting lumps of coal in their stockings.

Snow Day Activities

Here’s a fun web site for young and old alike to visit on a bad weather day. Jigzone.com has hundreds of free jigsaw puzzles you complete online. Each puzzle can be customized to have just six pieces or up to 247 pieces. My sons couldn’t get enough of this web site last Sunday when it was too cold and snowy for them to be outside for very long. And the best part was I didn’t have to nag them to pick up the puzzle pieces after they finished.

The Name Says It All

Maybe it was the fact that my husband and I are hosting Thanksgiving dinner and need more seating—or maybe we just needed some retail therapy—but a couple of weeks ago we bought a new couch for our family room. We got a big, comfy leather sectional that has a recliner on each end—my husband’s primary requirement.
This couch replaces a 20-year-old one my husband bought in college. It’s a couch so worn out I’m too embarrassed to show you a photo of it.
I didn’t realize my husband and I were the only family members excited about the new couch until after the movers delivered it. “Come try out the new couch!” I said to James.
“No,” he said. Instead he went into the garage, where we were keeping the old couch until the person whom responded to our Freecycle ad for it could pick it up. “Aren’t we going to keep Couchy?” he asked, resting his head against the back of the old couch.
Couchy? Who is Couchy? Oh, you mean that decrepid thing? “No, someone else is going to take it,” I said. “Now come in the house and try out our new couch!”
“I don’t want to sit on Mr. Couch,” James replied, sulking.
Until that point, I didn’t realize that James was losing a friend. Couchy didn’t mind if he and Ethan jumped up and down on its cushions. It also didn’t care if they got Goldfish crumbs all over it, or spilled juice on it. They could take Couchy’s cushions off and build forts with them any time.
Mr. Couch, on the other hand, won’t put up with any of that nonsense.

A Worthwhile Freebie

I usually cringe when we get “free” toys with fast-food kid meals, but this one won me over. Meet “Pirate Tot,” a swarmy looking stuffed tater tot that James got with his Sonic Wacky Pack kid’s meal. For some reason, James renamed him French Fry. The other morning, James woke up looking for French Fry, so he could carry him around along with his usual stuffed-animal posse of Eppa, Panda and Blankie. It looks like French Fry is a keeper.

Slipping Past The Issue

I promise to teach Ethan how to tie his shoes ... as soon as he grows out these slip-on ones.

Taking A Knitting Gamble

Sometimes, fixing a knitting mistake can take more time and money than it’s worth. That’s what I found out when I turned a hat into purse.
A few weeks ago, Ethan asked me to knit him a hat. Since I have currently started more knitting projects than I have finished, I wanted a quick knit. I chose a pattern I saw on A Friend To Knit With’s blog —a chunky knit beanie, because it looked like it could be knit in an afternoon.
I was right. I knit the hat on Sunday and Ethan wore it to school the next day. I felt like a fiber arts genius.
Until my husband told me he took the hat off of Ethan’s head when he got in line at school because he looked weird in it.

“That hat is for girl,” he said. “It’s too short to be a boy’s hat.”
“What do you mean—it’s a basic, unisex hat,” showing him the picture on the pattern.
“Then why is a girl wearing it?” he asked.
I realized then it was futile to argue with my husband about appropriate attire for his sons. Now what was I going to do with this hat, plus the three hanks of blue Classic Elite Aspen that I was going to knit into hats for James and my husband?
I logged onto ravelry.com, and amazing web site for knitters and crocheters to share their projects. I searched for projects that used Aspen yarn, which is like knitting with dreadlocks. Maybe that’s why I couldn’t find many projects for this yarn. I really didn’t want to make a giant scarf with it. My best bet was this free pattern for a purse.
I didn’t love the purse’s wooden handles, but I did like the cable pattern. Plus, it is 17 inches wide, which is good because big purses seem to be everywhere.

Before I could start, I had to order more supplies—a circular needle, fabric to line the inside the purse and the handles—for a total of $41.37. The purse knitted up quickly, and I got excited about using it.
But the excitement changed to anxiety as I ran out of yarn before I got to the last row. The last thing I wanted to do was order another hank of yarn for $12, including shipping. I also didn’t want to abandon the purse—those handles would forever haunt me if I didn’t do something with them.
I couldn’t bear spending another dime on this project, so I took the cheap way out. I unraveled a hat I made for myself with a gray hank of Classic Elite Aspen and used it to knit the last few rows. My knitter’s fantasy of impressing folks with this purse blew up in my face. No one is going to believe I got it from a boutique with that gray yarn peeking out from the bottom.

My husband would love for me to quit taking these knitting gambles, but I’m just too addicted.

A Detour Down Memory Lane

Last weekend I went on scrapbooking retreat at the Holiday Inn in Estes Park. I’m woefully behind in assembling my scrapbooks. In fact, on this retreat, I focused on finishing my now-4-year-old son James’ baby book.
On Sunday afternoon, I regretfully packed up my gigantic scrapbooking bag and hit the road to go back home. I thought I was on highway 36, which takes you back to Denver, but after a few moments of driving I wasn’t so sure. The road went south instead of east. Unfortunately I had to drive quite a few miles on the narrow, winding road before I found a good place to turn around.
The road leveled off and on the left-hand side was a sign for Lily Lake. I pulled into the parking lot before the little alpine lake. Mt Meeker and 14,000-ft. Long’s Peak were reflected in its still waters.
I had been here before. When Terry and I moved back to Colorado in 2004, we tried to make up for lost time in the Chicago flatlands by going up to mountains as much as possible. On one of our weekend outings, we came here to picnic and stroll around the lake. Here’s a photo of me, almost three months pregnant with James, and then-2-year-old Ethan, taking in the gorgeous scenery.
So much in my life has changed since this photo was taken, but this place looks exactly the same.

His Trusty Advisor

James confers with Eppa on all the important decisions in his life, like which Transformer he wants for Christmas.

YouTube To The Rescue

It’s an ambulance!

No, wait, it's a robot!

Actually, it’s a mangled mess.

The next time your son hands you some plastic parts and asks you to transform them, don’t despair. Go to the YouTube web site and search for Transformers. You’ll find hundreds of videos, such as this one, which will show you, step by step, how to transform the robot, Bumble Bee, into a Camero.
Yes, there are people out there whom spend their free time filming themselves “transforming” cheap plastic toys from China.
And, as a mother of two sons obsessed with Transformer toys, I am eternally grateful to them.

Cheap Thrills For Sweet Treats

My friend and I took our sons to a MOMS Club outing at Krispy Kreme doughnuts. The shop had a display window so you could see doughnuts made in real time. First the doughnuts sat on long metal shelves that rotated in a circle while the dough rises. Once they had plumped up to the right size, the doughnuts were placed on a conveyor belt, which dumped them into a huge vat of hot oil that fried them to a satisfying crisp.
James and my friend’s son pressed their faces against the glass, in awe of the doughnut-making process. Then James’s friend pointed to the rotating shelves and said, “Look James, it’s a carnival ride for doughnuts!”
At least the doughnuts had some fun before they met their fates.

The Ripple Effect

Ethan’s scootering has had a positive impact on the whole family. His insistence on riding his scooter to school has given James an extra opportunity to practice riding his bike.

The first few rides about did me in. James would ride so cautiously, I’d soon lose track of Ethan and had to push James on his bike every few feet to catch up with big brother. Then, one time, James wasn’t looking where he was going and rode off the sidewalk you see in the photo to do a face plant in the ditch. After that incident, I was afraid James would never ride again, but he got back on the next day.

By the end of the week, James rode so fast I had to wear my running shoes so I could jog to keep up with him. Last Sunday, Ethan said he wanted to ride his bike to the park, and James readily agreed. We all hopped on our bikes and made it to the park in one piece.

My dream came true.

Catching Up

When Ethan was 4 years old, we bought him a three-wheel scooter. We were hoping, despite his lack of coordination due to his autism diagnosis, that we could work with him to get him to ride it. But it proved to be too much for him, and the scooter soon collected dust in our garage. Ethan walked to his first grade class last year while his peers zoomed by him on various scooters, bikes and skate boards.
Then, a few weeks ago, our neighbor’s son invited Ethan and James to play with him. He and some other kids were racing down the street on their scooters. At his point, Ethan’s three-wheel scooter was too small for him, so one of the girls graciously offered him an extra Razor scooter in her family’s garage. I held my breath as he shakily pushed himself down the sidewalk, trying to stay in the race. But then it clicked, and the look of worry on his face blossomed into a smile. I think practicing taekwondo all these months gave him balance and coordination he needed to ride a scooter.
We bought Ethan his own Razor the next day. Now he zooms down the street to school with all other kids, and my heart swells at the sight of it.

An End Of An Era

Terry and I hung this dinosaur poster up in our main-floor bathroom almost four years ago as a potty-training aid for Ethan. We hoped having something interesting for him to look at while he did his business would make potty training process go more smoothly. Looking back, I think the M&M’s we gave as rewards had a more positive impact than the poster. But, since we didn’t want to jinx our success, we kept the poster up, just in case. Then we forgot about it until a few weeks ago, when I realized my both kids have been potty trained for more than a year.

My, how time flies.

Where Are My Kids?

I recently made the mistake of taking Ethan and James the Denver Zoo’s popular Tropical Discovery building, which similates an indoor rainforest full of pythons, crocodiles and a Komodo dragon. This is a terrifying place, but not because of its reptilian inhabitants. Between the crush of people and the dark, winding pathways around the exhibits, I almost lost Ethan and James.
It didn’t help that Ethan wanted to study every animal he saw, while James got bored and tried to run ahead.
I soon had to find strategic locations to stand where I could whip my head from one child to another. But this surveillance tactic wore me out, and I finally convinced them to leave the building before we finished the exhibit.
Once outside, my heart rate settled to a normal pace as we walked over to see the hippos munching on some hay.

Yeah, this is more my speed.

Kid-Proof A Baseball Game

1. Buy each of your kids a giant snow cone.

2. Buy yourself and husband a Coors Light in riot-proof plastic bottles.

3. Chase with a bag of peanuts.

Sit back and enjoy six innings.

Did You Smell That Ice Cream?

At a recent zoo outing, I got Ethan and James each a soft-serve ice cream cone.
“Do you know what I love about ice cream?” asked Ethan.
“What?” I asked.
“The TASTE!” he exclaimed, his eyes practically rolling in the back of his head.
Not to be outdone, James said, “Do you know what I love about ice cream? The cold smell!” He took a deep whiff of his cone. “Ahhh!”
I now have a new level of appreciation for ice cream.

S'more, Please

Thrill Of Our Lifetimes

Ethan has graduated from mini-roller coasters to the Twister II, the roller coaster I used to ride as a teenager.
























Thanks to Ethan's sensory-seeking needs, I haven't had this much excitement since I was 17 years old.