How to Mom Like a Pro

• Make the top of the dresser a chalk board by painting it with black chalk board paint. 
• Buy easel on clearance for $9
• Keep washable everything well stocked (within reason, of course)
• Provide free access to all of the washable stock (within reason, of course)
• Show child how to use and create with all things washable
• Also show child how to wash the washable
• Let them paint in their pajamas
• Never admit that it was just an impromptu pajama day
• Call it pajama day as if it were a special occasion
• Pretend like pajama days are a rare event
• Wash laundry while you're bluffing about the pajamas

Experience hours and hours of fascinated creativity and no screen time while you do laundry.

The Simple Life

Most of my days begin in the wee hours of the morning. A tap on my shoulder and the 3 year-old politely imploring, "Mom, can you snuggle me, pleeeeeeease?" I stir, not really willing to share my comfortable space with a thrashing, whispering small human, but at the same time how long will this thrashing, whispering small human only want to be snuggled? He wiggles his way right under the covers and straight into my heart as he somehow takes ownership of the width and breadth of my pillow and the entire expanse of the queen sized bed.

Somewhere around this time, the nocturnal deaf cat starts howling as he prowls around the house. I hug the edge of the mattress and contemplate what a world without cats would be like. Quiet, peaceful, simple. I like simple, I think to myself as the first rays of sun pierce the sky. I can tell the 3 year-old is no longer sleeping when he starts whispering every single thought that flutters across his active mind. 

We live a simple life in our simple rented duplex in a simple country neighborhood. Our furniture is scuffed and worn, our possessions are few, and we're not very fashionable. We like quiet evenings, hand's on projects and fresh dirt. The dog knows all of our friends by name and the cat howls when he's bored. I know the simple life doesn't appeal to all, but it works out for us, and this is what a day in our simple life may or may not look like. 

 When I get out of the shower, there's reams of paper now turned into art by pajama clad little artists. Colton draws S's and fish, while Jimmy writes his name and creates "score cards", as he calls them (something to do with football, I'm not sure I really understand it though, but that's typical of football with me).

 They dress themselves in their favorite Packer shirts and "play library" which is a huge mess but typically involves all of Dad's history "war books" and Dr. Seuss.

We never elude to to the midday sleepy time as a nap, for naps are unacceptable. Being quiet and listening to music as we accidentally drift off to sleep however is far more favorable, and having your big brother tell you animated super man stories before the quiet time commences is a thrashing, whispering small human's favorite way to do things. Also, extra points if the mattress is on the floor.

And then somehow I have this uncanny ability to never know what to fix the family for dinner. Even as the meat is cooking and water is boiling and the man of the house will be home any moment, I'm still all "Dear Pinterest, I don't know what to cook--- Oooo look! A craft!"

It's a simple life, not without it's bad days or frustrating moments. But it's where we are right now. And today is about choosing to be content--embracing the childhood of my sons and enjoying the simple things. You don't need a lot of money for that.

Let Them Play

Play is the highest form of research.

--ALBERT EINSTEIN

I love this quote, particularly as it relates to early childhood education. It has been an unprecedented discovery for me, as I provide the tools and allow my young children the freedom to simply play, that their curiosity compels them to find answers, their wonder drives them to explore, and their excitement causes them to create. In play the young mind comprehends things far more effectively than what structured desk time and educational work sheets dictate. They are but little, their minds are bright, their hearts are eager to know all there is to know. Playtime is essential for their development and is the most important basis of their education. 

"Play is often talked about as if it were a 

relief from serious learning. 

But for children, play is serious learning. 

Play is really the work of childhood." 

--FRED ROGERS

Bubbles, Bubbles, My Bubbles!

It was the first blissfully warm day of the year. For being February, it was literal perfection. I believe it even touched 60 on the thermometer before quickly retreating back into Winter for a reprieve of the balminess of Spring. It was still February after all.

Naturally, a pair of strawberry blonde brothers spent the afternoon exploring this new muddy habitat that was emerging from beneath all of the stale white cold sloppy stuff. One of them even took a snow shovel to the yard in hopes of discarding what was left of this Old Man Winter just a little bit sooner.

Before long, little brother emerged from the garage with a highly coveted token of last Summer's leftover fun. Bubbles. I watched the longing glance of envy from the older one. He disappeared into the garage in search of another bottle for himself but to no avail. They were all empty.

Now, I have been known to resist the cultural standard of "sharing" and "taking turns" that we are to impose upon our children. It is my hope to instill a sense of ownership along with proper respect for one another. So without intervening, I just sat back and waited to see what would happen. 

Of course Colton was less than eager to give up his beloved treasure, and Jimmy knew it was a lost cause before he even thought to beg and plead. Instead he disappeared into the house for a few moments. When he returned he had his own bubble bottle, filled with a solution he created himself using dish soap and (not quite enough, but that's between you and me) water. He had found a tiny whisk in the kitchen and began to blow the biggest coolest bubbles you ever saw. Admiration seeped from the little brother (and the mother, to be sure!), and together those mud splattered brothers blew bubbles to their hearts' content.  

Creative. Problem solver. Team player. That's my boy. 

Perspective.

It was the last rose of Summer, plucked gently off of my sad but brave worm eaten ruse bush. I was pretty certain I had destroyed that poor plant earlier in the Spring, because I am notorious for my inability to keep green things green even with the best of intentions. My poor little bush was indeed dead. Until one day, in between the spindly worm eaten veins of former leaves, was a little bud of pink. And then another, and another. That brave plant came back and with roses. And this was the last one.

It was so pretty and delicate I took a picture of it. And then I changed my angle and took another picture. Same spot, same settings, different perspective, completely different images.

I just can't help but think about how much like life this is. A simple matter of focus can change your circumstances. Not to be cliché or anything, but perspective is everything. You can look at the dark things in your life and dwell in the depression of your circumstances, or you can find the bright things in your life and experience the light of the blessings you do have. There will always be plenty of things to complain about, but there is always, always something to be grateful for. A lot of things, when you stop and think about it. So change your life and dwell in the joy of those things and be grateful.

Colton: Inspire Me

This time of year is crazy in my line of work. When I'm not behind the camera, I'm spending every spare moment editing, tweaking, adjusting, and finalizing literally thousands of images for other people. And then suddenly I hit a wall. And my eye for it is just done. I can't see the details, clarity, coloring and vision for my beloved work any longer. It's just a blur. A blob of pixels. I'm so uninspired.  And then I flip to my personal files, from months gone by with out more than a thumbnail glance. And suddenly I'm deep in brushes and cloning and light adjustment and perfecting. And just like that my inspiration returns. 

These images were captured back in September when I was experimenting with settings, lighting and technique. Colton is always a good sport for me. 

We Do Loud Really Well

A few weeks ago (already!) my sister from Nebraska and her family made the trek to the Wisconsin neck of the woods where the rest of our family resides. Between my parents, the siblings, the spouses and significant others, the kids there's 21 of us. And that doesn't include the gazillion pets between all of us. In my family, this spells out a recipe for a lot of laughter, a lot of loud, and total randomosity on tap.

Of course the 4 year-old girl cousins would be capable of convincing the 2 year-old to pull them around in the wagon. 

 I don't have daughters, but I do have nieces. It's so fun when they let me do their hair.

 The 4 year-olds.

"Baby Toads" are a favorite.

 And so was horseback riding.

 Quesadilla burgers on the grill.

Sisters! We tried to take a normal picture. There are probably hundreds. This is the only one that turned out relatively normal. 

Because You Know, Murica

One of the ways we celebrated the 4th was, well, independence from tradition. Due to a lot of exhausting activities in our lives leading up to the day, and a lot of family being out of town, and the toddler amongst us recovering from Lyme, we decided to make it a quiet one. By we, I guess I don't mean so much the boys, because as you can see they had fun in their own unique, boisterous, mudding brotherly ways. Because you know, 'Murica. 

We may have abandoned tradition, but these memories still make me smile. 

 Our friendly mousy friend, Bob. Yes. We have a mouse friend. He even begs for food.