My Lil Miss

Back in July, Lisa asked for advice on her son's whining issues.

I personally emailed her with my sympathies and advice because:
1. She is a friend of mine
2. I was/am dealing with the same issue here
3. I wanted to be able to receive her undying affection and eternal gratefulness

She thanked me profusely, and told me that she'd try what I suggested. Well, here it is a month later, and I am still waiting for word whether it's working or not. Either my advice sucked, or she is privately thanking the stars everyday for being so blessed to have received my wisdom. (Chuckle, Snort! -- Love ya Lisa!)

Here's our story:

My daughter is the youngest of three children, the only girl, and is 4 years old. She challenges me in ways that my boys never did. She can be dramatic. She can be demanding. But she also possesses a sweet and soft side that boys just don't usually seem to come into the world with.

As the last born in our family, you might think that I "baby" her. I don't really think this is true at all. Yes, she gets lots of cuddles and stuff, but I try to nurture each of my children with the same amount of affection... just in different ways.

As an example of her dramatics, when she is crying about something and one of her brothers say, "She would like...", or "Her feelings are hurt because..." I stop them in their tracks. I tell the boys that she can speak for herself. And if she is still crying and whining, I tell her that she needs to use her big girl words so I can understand what the problem is.

We started a "code" of sorts. If she approaches me with whining, I hold up my index finger and say her name. That is her cue to start again without whining. About half the time this works with her and at other times it doesn't. When she is compliant, she will start over and use those big girl words. Other times this request seems to be too much for her and it will cause a complete meltdown. I stay calm and wait for her to come around. And she always does... eventually.

It seems that my goal of teaching effective communication is working, but it is a long and slow process. Potty training never took this long. But that's okay.

I believe that being consistent and patient is the key. Sometimes it just takes longer for them to get something. And as a parent it is difficult because when we see inappropriate behavior, we want it to cease right away. We feel that we are bad parents if our children act up.

We have to realize though that they are kids. They need to be messy and loud. They need to play because that is their job. And yes, they also need to test the limits. This is how they learn what is acceptable, how to treat people, compromise, and how to be fair. We teach and live it everyday.

Although this issue with my daughter is taking awhile to overcome, I do see progress. With my patience and guidance and her willingness to try, it is sorting itself out.

And I know that when this has passed, we'll have something else to work on. That's what being a parent is all about. It's a constant guiding and giving role. Teaching them the tools to live a happy, healthy, and respectful life. I think that is the goal of every parent out there. Well, I know it's mine.

Dare Devils

I lived on a farm for a bit while growing up. We had 5 acres of land, a house, a barn, and two detached garages. This is what I recall as my childhood home. We moved there when I was about 5 years old, and moved away when I was about 11.

So, like I said, we had these two garages. One served as a storage area, the other was my dad's workshop.

They were built right next to each other. There was a space of just a couple of feet between them. The one on the left had a steeper pitch to it and was taller.

My older and wiser (ha!) brother thought it was cool to get on top of a garage and jump across to the other. Watching him do this terrified me. But he always looked like he was having the time of his life while doing it. He tried to get me to engage in this life-threatening activity with him. His first attempt was to sweet-talk me.

"Come on, it's fun!" and "You don't know what you're missing"

When that didn't work, he resorted to insults.

"You're a big baby," and "What a wimp!"

That was all it took. I could do anything my big brother could do, right?

He showed me how to get up onto the garage on the right (with the "safer" roof). Once up there,I promptly sat on my butt and froze. Looking over at that steep incline across the valley of death was too much for my six year old psyche. He pleaded, he begged, he insulted some more. But I just couldn't do it. I envisioned jumping across, not being able to get my balance, and that I would fall backwards. Crying and disappointed in myself, I got down.

Not one to give up, he urged me to try getting up on the other roof. I finally relented, and got up there. I immediately plopped down on my butt again. It felt scarier to be on the steeper roof, but the jump it didn't look so forbidding. I could see that the odds of losing my balance weren't as great because the roof was flatter.

I watched him jump back and forth a bunch of times. All the while he kept saying, "See? It's easy!"

I finally got up enough courage to rise from my seated position. My legs were shaking. It felt as though my heart was going to pound right out of my chest. But I was going to do this!

My brother gave the important lesson of getting a running start. He informed me that I would need to back up a bit. Oh, you gotta be kidding me! Inch by inch, I shuffled my shaking body backward. One final jump from my brother then it would be my turn. As he ran down the roof, my world went into slow motion. I could feel the vibrations of his movements under my feet. His body picked up speed as he approached the edge of the roof. At the last moment, he flung his body upward and sailed across the valley of death. He landed with a thud across the way. Then he turned around, smiled, and said "Okay, your turn".

I mentally scolded my shaking legs and took a deep breath. Before I had a chance to talk myself out of it, I said, "Okay, ready or not, here I come!" I propelled my body forward and ran like never before. When the void was just ahead of me, I jumped. I didn't look down to the empty space beneath me, I was too focused on finding a place for my feet to land. As my feet approached the other roof, I pushed my body forward so that when I landed, my hands would make contact as well. No falling backwards for me!

After the first time, it did get easier for me to do. We did this on many occasion, but I was never able to make the jump to the steeper roof. I always imagined my head cracked open.

Looking back, it is easy for me to understand why my brother loved it so... his hero was Evel Knievel.

Gotta Take The Good With The Bad...

This past week has had both rough spots and good times.

Rough stuff: A change in meds for oldest son with PDD. This did not go over well. By day four, son was exhausted, agitated, and began raging. This was not good. We took him off that medicine yesterday, and today he is back to his normal self. When talking to the doc, he said that this reaction is extremely rare and that son must be pretty sensitive to it. Ummm... ya think?

Good stuff: On Saturday we traveled north to visit some of my extended family members. There was even a member of the family there that I haven't seen in 12 years! Later that same day, we also enjoyed a picnic hosted by one of my husband's co-workers.

Sunday brought my side of the family to our house for a family reunion. Our house was filled with me and my husband, our 3 kids, my mom, my brother his wife with their 3 children, and my Uncle Bill and Aunt Mary Ann. Whew! It was fun, it was exhausting, and I can't wait to do it again.

Another Day, Another Lesson Learned!!

So I spent like an hour this morning typing about scrapbooking on my blog. I proof-read it. I did a spell check. I hit preview to give it one last look over before publishing it. Oh, one last little change, then I will be done. Instead of hitting the "Hide Preview" link, I closed the window. I CLOSED THE WINDOW!! And I didn't click on the "Save as Draft" button the entire time I had been working on that entry. Feeling a horrible sense of doom, I clicked on the pull down arrow on my browser hoping and praying that when I clicked on Blogger Dashboard, all the words that I had typed earlier would be there. Nope.

The way I figured it, I had a few choices:

1. Cry and throw my computer out of the window
2. Forget about it and get on with the housework
3. Chin up and rewrite it

Choice #1 was a brief possibility, but that's just not my style. I seriously considered #2 as I was frustrated and did have lots of other things to get done. But in the end, I went with #3. Aren't you lucky I love you all so much? Scrapbooking is so meaningful to me, how could I not share it all with you?

So here's the funny thing... I knew what I had said in the original post, but when I tried to recall the exact words I'd used, my mind was blank. I could not re-write it word for word. Even though it conveys the same message and information, I believe the whole entry has a different "feel" to it now. Not in a bad way... just different.

So this got me to thinking. When we sit to down create something (whether it be in written form, a scrapbook page, or anything else), it will become what it becomes in its final form in part because of the moment we choose to make it. Isn't that amazing?

And don't even think about asking how many times I have saved this entry "As Draft" while creating it. :-)

Doing What I Love

Anyone who knows me personally knows what I love to do... make scrapbooks. I began scrapbooking in 1997 when I was pregnant with child #2. Here is my scrapbooking history.


Stage One
1997 - 1999

The scrapbook industry is in it's infantry. There are only a handful of stores that are starting to carry scrapbook supplies. And those early products were very limited. I cringe when I look at my first scrapbook pages. They are filled with loud papers, stickers, and less than stellar photographs. They lack style and good design. My children however love to look at those albums. To them, they only see themselves growing up. They don't care that their pictures are cut into weird shapes or that they're mounted on fluorescent green paper. (But I'm worried that their eyesight will be permanently damaged by looking at all that bright paper!)


Stage Two
1999 - 2003

As the industry evolves, so do my scrapbook pages. New products are being released and I love to play with all of them. Better paper choices are coming out. I am learning to take better photographs, and to take lots of them. This betters my chance of getting a couple of good shots. I am beginning to really study good design. Flow and balance. Better color choices.


Stage Three
2003 - 2004

I learn about the importance of good journaling. Getting deeper than just "Who, What, Where, and When". When I first starting scrapbooking, I thought it was all about the photographs. But when I studied layouts, I found that the ones I really liked where the ones that incorporated a good story. When my children are grown and they look at these scrapbooks, they are going to be able to read about how I was touched by something they said or did. They might look at a layout that shows something they were doing, but be able to read about a similar experience I had as a child.


Stage Four
2004 - Present

I finally felt that I had defined my style. I was confident that my pages had depth, feeling, balance and design. I began submitting my layouts to various scrapbooking publications for consideration. The most amazing thing started happening... some of my layouts were selected for publication.

I continue to submit 99% of my layouts for consideration, but I made a vow to myself that I would not obsess about getting/not getting published. I make scrapbook pages for me and my family. It is a wonderful creative outlet for me and one that allows me to preserve our memories. If one happens to get published, that is just a bonus. Once the layout is made and I submit it, I forget about it (not the page, the submission). If I happen to get a phone call from a publisher requesting the layout, that's great. But if not, that's just fine too. My greatest joy comes from watching family members look through our scrapbooks.

About the time that I first starting getting published, another exciting thing happened. I was selected to be a member of the Design Team for my local scrapbook store! I am given one assignment each month (sometimes I chose to do more than one project). Depending on the project, I have to work with specific products or a technique, and other times it's based on a theme. A few times I was assigned to use certain products that I typically wouldn't have picked out myself. But I've never disliked one of my assignments. It forces me to think creatively... make it my own.

I've truly been blessed with the joy scrapbooking has given me. It is my passion, and it fulfills me.

Mr. Energy

Awhile after my parents divorced, my mom decided to move us from the Midwest to live in Kansas where her brother was living. I was probably about 11 years old then. My brother and I had always loved Uncle Bill, and this was a treat for us! He was the one who bought us all the cool toys for Christmas that my parents normally wouldn't... one year I got the Play-Dough Barber Shop Set, and my brother got some sort of building set that must of had like 34,582 pieces. Oh yes, my parents were thrilled.

Having no place to live, and no money to speak of, Uncle Bill offered us to stay with him for awhile. He was not married at the time, nor had any children. But he had an awesome Corvette!!!

Having no children of his own had its pros and cons for us. The pros were that he'd happily give us a roll of quarters to go play in the arcade. He'd also play board games with us to pass the time. He was a good and decent male role model in our lives.

One downside was that he wasn't used to coming home to a noisy household after a long day's work. Don't get me wrong, he was a patient man, but we could usually tell when he'd had enough.

Okay, so another trait about my uncle was that he is money driven. This is not a bad thing. He enjoys making money, saving money, and spending money.

Adding three new residents to his house was expensive. My brother and I were constantly leaving our bedroom lights and radios on, even when we weren't in our rooms. Being 11 and 13 years old, my brother and I didn't know the importance of trying to save the household some money. But thanks to my uncle, we soon found out.

He didn't lecture us, nor punish us, but invented an important learning game instead. The game was called "Mr. Energy". One night my brother and I watched with curiosity as he placed two empty butter dishes on the kitchen counter and then reached into his pants pocket. When he pulled his hand out, it was filled with some loose change. He counted out a small amount of change and placed it in the first dish. Then he did the same for the other.

My uncle then came out to the living and sat down with us.

"See this alarm clock?" he asked as he motioned to the digital alarm clock sitting on an end table.

My brother and I nodded our heads.

"Okay, starting today," he said with a smile, "We are playing Mr. Energy. I will be setting the alarm to go off at different times. You are never allowed to check and see what time I have put in for the alarm to go off."

He paused to make sure we knew he was serious. We did.

"Alright, when the alarm goes off, if there are any unused lights, radios, or T.V.s that are on, you will need to pay me a dime for each infraction. You each have a butter dish with some starter money in it. If you deplete it, you will have to pay me from your own piggy banks."

My brother and I let out our groans and moans.

"Okay, but wait," said my uncle.

My brother and I turned our grumpy faces toward him. After a few moments, I saw a slight smile cross his face.

"If there is nothing on that shouldn't be on when the alarm goes off," he continued, "I will give you each a quarter."

My brother and I began to grin with the thought of all that easy money that would be coming our way. Little did we know then how much our uncle was about to take us for in the next few months! It was so frustrating when the alarm went off and we had to pay all those dimes to Mr. Energy.

I am happy to say that this game continued long enough for us to "get it" and that my brother and I actually did turn a profit in the end.

I'd love to report that this lesson has carried into my adulthood intact, but I have to admit that sometimes I leave an unused light on. And when that happens, I think to myself, "If Mr. Energy were here, he wouldn't be happy!"

Endless Summer

My kids have less than two weeks before they start another school year. Even though I've keep them relatively busy and happy through the summer, there are signs that they are ready to go back to school:

- My twelve year old son has begun knitting a scarf (I am not joking)

- They have tired of playing the X-Box (which suprises me because I only allow limited play time on it)

- I hear "I'm bored" before 9:00 am

My First MEME

From Joy:

idiosyncrasy: structural or behavioral characteristic peculiar to an individual or group. write down five of your idiosyncrasies. then, if you wish, tag five people. so here we go:

1. I can tolerate a certain amount of messiness in my children's bedrooms for some time before I make them clean it up, but cannot handle toys and other things on the living room floor for very long. (Imagine my tension after all the Christmas gifts have been opened!)

2. I do not need to know every exact detail of what's going to happen in any given situation... but I do need a general idea of what to expect. I am a planner by nature and to go forth in life aimlessly makes me feel totally out of control. I admire those people who can go on vacation with no agenda and just do what whatever they come upon.

3. I don't mind cooking, I'm just not very good at it. I would love to be one of those people who can "throw in a bit of this, throw in a bit of that" and out comes a wonderful dish. No, I pretty much need a recipe. And I don't like to clean up the mess afterwards.

4. I never gobble up my favorite food on the plate first. I may eat some or most of it before eating the other items on the plate, but always reserve some to finish up with.

5. A place for everything, and everything in it's place. I like things to be organized. When I need the XYZ, I want to know that it's always at it's designated place. I don't want to have to ask other people "Where's the XYZ?"

Geez, now that I sound totally anal about life, I tag Lisa. (I wish I could tag more, but I only have a few friends that blog and the others have already been tagged)

Are My Kids Gonna Survive THEIR Childhoods?

Yesterday I had to take my 7 year old to the dentist. Was this for a routine checkup? A cleaning? Absolutely not... that would have been too mundane.

It all started the night before. My two younger children were messing around, getting each other worked up into a frenzy. Feeding off of each other, they became louder and crazier... running through the house, diving on to the couch, etc.

I said the usual mom things:

"Please settle down"

"Someone's gonna get hurt"

I should have been firmer. My strong mommy disciplinary forces should have come forth. But they didn't. And I know why.

It was getting late in the evening and my husband hadn't yet arrived home (he stopped at the grocery store on his way home from work to restock our pantry. Yes, he usually does all of our grocery shopping... what a guy!)

If the clock strikes 6:00 pm and their dad is not home, monkey-like personas take over their little bodies. It's not pretty.

At that hour, I am pretty much spent. After spending the day with the children, cleaning house, cooking dinner, running errands, and doing all the usual stay-at-home mom stuff, I am drained. My defenses are down. It's a weakness I have. Actually I find it amazing that I even have the energy to mutter "Please settle down". So, you get the idea... the kids were being wild and I was tired.

In the midst of their "play", my son's upper front tooth (#8) collided with my daughter's forehead. Hard. They both started screaming so loud that I'm sure the deaf cat down the street heard for the first time.

After a quick assessment, I decided that I needed to tend to my son first as I caught sight of blood in his mouth, whereas my daughter's head wasn't bleeding, bruising, or swelling. (Actually my 12 year old son stepped in to get her some ice and take care of her while I was busy with the other hurt one.)

First I checked his bottom lip, then his tongue, then his gum line. That's where the blood was coming from. I checked the tooth and those next to it. Only tooth #8 seemed to be affected. It had slight mobility to it, and that made me nervous! Of course it wasn't a baby tooth, no, it had to be a permanent one.

I called the dentist office and because it was after-hours, I had to leave a message to the gate-keeper of pagers. After just a few minutes the dentist called me back. He gave me advice and told me to bring said child in to his office first thing in the a.m. (no appointment needed!)

They looked at the tooth and took x-rays to make sure the root wasn't damaged. The gum line looked pretty good, there was no more mobility, and son said he felt fine. But in the end, they decided to temporarily attach it to the tooth next to it just to be safe.



Are my kids going to survive their childhoods? Probably... most of us do. But just to be on the safe side, I have 40 yards of bubble wrap on order.

I Survived Being Stupid

I have a brother who is two years older than me. How we lived past the age of 10, I'll never know. We did some crazy and stupid stuff when we were young. I don't recall where my parents were when we did this stuff... it seems we were a bit young to be left alone.

But then again, it was a different time. I can remember being about 7 and going out into the neighborhood looking for friends to play with. I'd be gone for hours. When it was time to return, one of my parents would stick their head out the door and call out my name until I came home.

In this day and age, my children have to tell me exactly where they are going and I need a phone number to whose home they are going to. Before they change locations, they need to clear it with me first. No willy-nilly wandering around the neighborhood for my kids. (Well, the exception to this is for my 12 year old son... he is allowed to stay within our neighborhood boundaries to ride his bike BUT he has to check in with me every 20 minutes or so.)

Okay, so my brother and I were a bit more unsupervised. When my parents weren't around, we would sometimes play the dryer game. Yep... we played in the dryer. With it on. We'd take turns riding the thing while the other would start and stop the dryer. Now, I guess we did possess a tiny bit of common sense because we had safety rules for our game.

First: Protect the head. This entailed taking a big fluffy towel and wrapping it around our head swami style.

Second: Don't over heat. The one not riding would put his/her finger into a slot to "trick" the dryer into thinking the door had been closed. Then he/she would reach up and push the button to start the drying cycle.

Now, either dryers didn't have a "fluff only" option back then, or my brother and I were too dumb to realize we could do this without losing 3 lbs of body water by sweating so much during this game. Let me tell you folks... it gets hot in there! Oh, I guess that would be an obvious assumption, huh?

It was a fun game. We knew we were being naughty when we did this. I wonder if it was the riskiness of the game, or the joyful tumbling that made it so thrilling.

In recalling this memory, I stopped a moment to ponder how many years of life we might have taken off that machine by doing this. Probably not many... appliances were made tough back then.

One last thought... our cat didn't like this game!

Life As I Know It

Welcome to my blog!

I guess I should start with a brief intro...

My name is Michelle and I am a 30(ish) year old woman. I live in the midwest with my husband of 14 years and our three kids. I have a 12 year old son, a 7 year old son, and a 4 year old daughter. All of their birthdays are in the fall, so we will be celebrating another round of birthdays soon.

I enjoy scrapbooking and have been doing so since 1997. I love to be creative, and this allows me that outlet while preserving our family's memories.

I believe in having a positive attitude. Maybe it's because was born with a positive demeanor. Maybe it's because I learned that life is what you make of it. Or perhaps it's because I modeled my mom's example. Whatever the reason, it's the way I choose to live my life. When things are difficult, I try not to just sit there and whine about it. My choice is to see how to turn a bad situation into a positive one (or at the very least, just deal with it and move on).

I hope to share some of my memories and thoughts with you in an enlightening way. I am not the wittiest person around, nor the "life of the party" type of gal. However, I would like to think that I have some thoughts that are worth sharing and that I can do that in a way that won't bore you to death.

In closing, I just wish to extend a thank you to Joy for encouraging me to start my own blog. This is slightly out of my comfort zone, but I am usually willing to try something new. I hope to gain personal growth with this experience.

Sincerely,
Michelle