Preschooler Activities for St. Patrick's Day

Today is my little boy's FIFTH birthday. I can't believe it. Especially since I revisited some of these older posts from when my two oldest were just three and one. It really does sail by.

Leprechaun Hats:

 We are studying the letter H right now so we made these hats which work well for St. Patty's day too! Step by step instructions found over at the East Coast Mommy Blog. They were quick and easy to make and then they spent a good half hour decorating them with stickers.

We made a mess. We are SO good at that.

Just as I was about to take this picture Edison whips around with these scissors, opening and closing them as fast as he can. Stinker.

(Our Family Systems poster is explained HERE)

Shamrock Search

 We did a hunt for the letter H on these shamrocks and they wanted to do it over and over again. I had them put buttons on different letters (after we did the H) and then we would clear the board and go again!

When we were bored with the letters we moved onto SHAPES and then NUMBERS.

The possibilities are endless. And now, I will be following the lead of my little five year old today. FIVE. Happy Pi Day!

Here is a blast from the past and some fun ideas for St. Patrick's Day this week:

Shamrock Memory Game & Crafty Rainbows

Rainbow Cupcakes

Fun St. Patrick's Day Facts

Sight

I recently was asked to write this article for Tulips and Mudd, a beautiful blog created by Lisanne Lee. It was good to write again, a little terrifying to put it out there, but wonderful to share a part of myself again...

"Sight"

I read a book recently about a man named George Ritchie who died when he was twenty years old at an army camp. For nine minutes he “existed” outside of his body, which he could see laying still in his bed. At first he didn’t believe it and tried to get the attention of people around him, asking questions in desperation to figure out what was going on. But he quickly realized that those people couldn’t see him, couldn’t feel him grasping their shoulders and pleading for help. When he came back to life and recovered from his illness, he remembered what it felt like to be unseen, unanswered, and invisible. He determined to try for the rest of his life to not only see the people around him, but also pay attention to what they were trying to say withoutwords. He tried to see beyond their humanness and see the good, the light, and the stories within them. This, he said, changed the rest of his life.

What if we could read the invisible signs people are holding as they walk into work, drop their kids off at school, or stand in line at the grocery store? “Lonely.” “Dieting.” “Infertility sucks.” What if our hearts threw words up into the air above our heads, like a mental projector and suddenly we could see all those things that we can’t see? My husband works with a man whose wife is dying of cancer. I think of her, crossing paths with people every day who have no idea what is going on inside her heart and her mind, as she spends her last few months with her husband and three young boys.  I wonder how differently I would treat the people around me if I could see not only their facial expressions but the chapter headings of their adolescence or scribbled notes on the margins of their adulthood. What if feelings were transferable in a handshake or a hug?

As a mother, I study my children. At times, they are an open book, with legible emotions and dog-eared corners that show clearly what they think and feel. Other times they are sealed shut and locked down, their feelings tucked away, their moods illegible. Parenthood is a lot like creating a story or painting a picture that slowly takes on a life of its own.  Just when you think you understand the beginning, the middle, and the end, a new chapter appears and you find yourself staring at a wondrous mystery. 

Learning to love my children has taught me to see people around me differently. Everyone has a story. Everyone wants to be loved, me included.  Sometimes all we know about someone is in a scroll of 3x3 squares that we “like” or “comment” upon, but there is so much that we don’t  (and can’t) see beyond that. There are buried chapters, paragraphs that don’t fit in, forewords and epilogues and second endings. There is no way to see or understand it all, but I believe each of us carry a fistful of pages in hand each day, hoping to be—in some way—understood, accepted, and loved for what we are.  When he died in that army hospital, George Ritchie realized that all the love and acceptance we could ever want as human beings is available to us if we just open our eyes to it. He said, “If I wanted to feel the nearness of Christ—and I did want that, above everything else—I would have to find it in the people that He put before me each day.” 

I will have been many places, seen countless things, and met hundreds of thousands of people by the end of my life. But I do believe that what will carry the most weight is how I made people feel. If next to me, as my loved one or friend, neighbor or stranger on the bus, they felt seen, answered, and loved. 

A New Year

I have a goal to get back on the boat. Back IN the boat. At the helm. I stopped blogging and journaling last year and I'm not sure why. I've journaled my entire life and it is one of my greatest therapies. I used to love lighting a candle near my bedside and writing my thoughts. I need this again in my life. I'm not putting a number on it, no expectations to post a certain amount each week. I just need to share again.

This year, I want to create something. I want to feel that excitement that comes with having a project that I've invented. I think writing will be a big part of that something. So here I am, writing. I hit a wall today that I've been nearing for a while now. I always think, "If I can just get the house completely clean, then I can start a project that I enjoy." Today I worked really hard to make that happen. I can walk from one end of my apartment to the other in twenty paces and yet it took me all day to get clothes put away, floors vacuumed, dishes washed (by hand). Then once everyone was in bed, the house was clean and quiet, I realized, "I'm exhausted. What am I supposed to do now?" I ache for a project, a purpose outside of these walls. Is it bad to want more than you are? I am a good mother. That's my priority. Shouldn't I also be developing my own self at the same time that I'm guiding five other little selves?

I'm not sure what it is yet that I'm feeling ready to CREATE but I will be sure to write about it here. So good to be back.

janelle

Fig Syrup and Night Swimming

We just spent the weekend in the Uintah's with good friends, sleeping in, eating really unhealthy food, and teaching our kids the in's and out's of snipe hunting. When we got home, I walked into the kitchen and stared at the sink, trying to figure out where all the splatters of something dark and brown had come from. And then my eyes moved up. Apparently a bottle of fig syrup I had made a few weeks ago, and then left in the sink right before we left, had exploded. Like, EXPLODED.

So naturally, we put the kids to bed and I spent the evening watching the Office. That left a load of work on my plate today. But the kids were great and Eloise and Jane even offered to help for about 15 minutes, and about six hours later I was done! Sometimes I think I'm just so GREAT at cleaning.

Once the house was almost back in order, we convinced Dad to brave Walmart with us to get a few ingredients for some pies I used as a bribe to my young women for them to bear their testimonies last Fast and Testimony meeting. We also needed some Command Strips for our new "Task Charts" that Hazel was hastily finishing for Family Home Evening tonight.

Walmart + Petsmart (for lizard food) in ONE HOUR = cause to celebrate.

After dinner we went over our current family systems, assigning each kid (except Jane) a system to be in charge of and explain to the rest of the family. Besides the two times that Ed stormed off in anger, once because he was shot with Dad's water gun for sucking on his fingers, they seemed to really be into these systems. I hope they work.

After dishes were done and Family Night was over, it was 8:30 and the kids reminded me that I had mentioned "night swimming" earlier in the day when I must have been feeling a bolt of energy and thought it might last past 8 pm. David immediately said that was crazy and he wasn't going. But I wanted to stick to my word, so I told the kids to get their swimsuits on. We stayed for an hour and the water was warm and Jane ended up in my lap, smelling of summer and her own strawberry-shortcake-ness. As I knelt for prayers with my two oldest, they both gave thanks for having the best mom in the world. I know they won't always feel that way, but for now, I'll tuck that memory away in my heart and save it forever.

Good, good day.

Janelle

Halloween Roundup

Halloween is SATURDAY. Fall is here and October has been crazy! But thankfully soccer is over and I'm feeling the blogging bug and hope to dive back into this thing that was once my thing. So here's a little Halloween roundup for the two or three of you who still read my blog!

 But first, a really cute picture of me and my kids (and an example of why I don't blog anymore. All I do is lay on my hammock and pay my children to brush my hair.)