So, if you know me at all, you may be aware that I’m somewhat craft-ily challenged. Oh sure, I can create things. Especially of the digital variety. And I can even do stuff with paper and glue and scissors. Sometimes. If there’s a pattern. And very detailed instructions. And someone telling me what to do. Every single step of the way.

But all y’all out there who have crafty creativity flowing out of you and pouring onto your blogs and such… well, that’s just a different realm for me.

Once, Nick and I thought we were crafty. We thought we were going to hand-make presents for everyone for Christmas. Seemed like an economical way to give meaningful gifts. So what did we think we could create out of thin air without so much as an example to go off of? That’s right… snow globes. Any of you who were part of the Great Snow Globe Catastrophe of 2003 will remember… and we sincerely apologize.

But I am pleased to announce the beginning of the end of my craft impairment. That’s right, ladies and gentlemen. This week I have created not one… not two… but 3 different projects using only the power of my brain (i.e. no patterns). I submit them below as evidence.

I was browsing through the Oriental Trading website, when I saw a project kit for these. I almost ordered them to use next year, when I took a closer look. I thought, “I could do that!” Typically, those are my famous last words, as the plan in my head rarely turns out the way I want it. But Mylie and I made these earlier this week out of toilet paper rolls and construction paper, and I thought they turned out swimmingly.

Mylie vacillated this year between being Tinkerbell and being “Jessie” from Toy Story II for Halloween. Since it is sacrilege in our family not to have a theme, poor Nolan’s options were either Peter Pan or “Woody”. And though I think Nolan’s squishy fat legs would have been adorable in green tights, it appears that every little girl in the country is going as a fairy this year, so we opted for something a little different. Nolan’s inner macho-man (as well as his future teen ego) thanks us. So, Toy Story it is.

After over a week of isolation due to the H1N1 that hit our house hard, we were a little behind on the costume making. But, by last night we had finally rounded up all the needed supplies. But, since Toy Story is apparently the most unpopular theme this year, I was unable to locate any patterns. For anything. Anywhere. So, it was up to our brains and eyes to figure it out. Let’s face it, I was rather hopeless.

Seriously, the last thing I have sewed in my life was in my sophomore year in 4-H. And the last time I had to create a pattern from scratch? Eh… never. It was anyone’s guess as to whether we could pull it off, but we did it! Nick and I worked from 10pm to 3am last night and we did it!

A few details to call attention to:

Cowgirl Shirt Panel with authentic swirly thingers

And did I mention they’re sewed on, not glued?
Woody’s Felt Cowboy Boots
That’s right people. I made a 3-Dimensional Pattern without even using a tutorial from the internet. Because none exists. Seriously, go check if you don’t believe me. I made those puppies with sheer force of will.

Authentic Cowgirl Shirt Cuffs
Nick made this pattern, I did the sewing & decorating. Not too bad, if I do say so myself.

So there you have it. Crafts by Karli (& Nick). Don’t get too excited… I’m not going to be starting a craft blog anytime soon. Let’s just say I’m pleased to discover that a little shred of a domestic diva is alive in there….somewhere. And if she only comes out once a year, well, I’ll welcome her with open arms. And take lots of pictures to prove her existence!

I have to say, this blog has been percolating in my head for quite some time. If I talk to you on a semi-regular basis, you may have heard my theories and feelings espoused on more than one occasion. I have, however, neglected to post something heretofore, as this is an incredibly touchy topic that runs the risk of having me labeled as a bad mom, a crazy mom, a judgmental mom, or all of the above. So, let’s just suffice it to say that these are my beliefs as a parent, and I pass no judgment on others who choose to parent differently. I would hope that you afford me the same courtesy. As always, comments and discussion are highly encouraged.

I remember shortly after Mylie was born, and I had to go grocery shopping for the first time by myself. It was summer, and it was hot, and I was in a quandary. What do I do after I have loaded my kid and my groceries in the car? Do I leave the door open while I go put the cart back so she doesn’t smother in the heat during the 45 seconds it will take me to get to the cart carrel and back? Or do I leave the door open, and risk having a stranger grab her from my car in the 45 seconds it will take me to get there and back?

I ended up leaving the door open and keeping my eyes glued to her the whole time (because my x-ray death stare was sure to deter any would-be kidnappers), nearly running the cart into a couple parked cars in the process. After that harrowing experience, I learned that finding a parking spot right next to the cart carrel was more important than getting a spot close to the store. I would occasionally circle for minutes until I could find one that fit my parameters.

Boy, have I come a long way since then.

Flash forward about three years. I am having a horrible day. While dragging my toddler and newborn out of Costco on one very rainy day, and trying to get them into their car seats, I set my purse on top of my car, and proceed to drive off with it there. I don’t realize it until it’s too late, of course. Through process of elimination I figure out where I think it fell off (a crazy busy street) and drive by a few times, but don’t see it, and can’t just stop with the kids in the car to search. I decide to head to my UPS Store because we get our mail there, and that is the address on my license. I figure if anyone picked it up, they might try to return it there.

Because it’s still pouring down rain when I arrive, and I’m already very stressed out, I leave my kids in the car while I run in just to ask if they’ve had my purse turned in. I’ve parked right in front of the glass windows and can see my car the whole 3.5 minutes I’m in the store. I even see the woman that stops in front of my car. When I return, she curtly informs me, “Is this your car? You know, they arrest people for that.” I try to keep my cool while I explain, “I just had to run in for a second.” She gives me a glare that says, “Well, a second is all it takes, missy!”

And there’s the rub.

You see, because, it doesn’t just take a second. Not usually. In fact, very rarely. Not in a circumstance like that, in a busy parking lot, next to Safeway, up front by the sidewalk where lots of people are walking by and obviously aware (like that most helpful woman) of what’s happening around them. In fact, her watching out for me proves my point that my children were perfectly safe!

But I’m not just talking about kids in cars here. No, my soapbox extends much further than that. As my children grow older, I am continually frustrated more and more by what I am not able to let them do. I can’t let my four-year old ride her bike on the sidewalk outside our house by herself (without people coming to my doorstep, anyway), and I can’t let her walk behind me in Target without people telling me that there are dangerous people about who might snatch her if she’s not in my line of sight (true story). And the thing that really gets my goat is that I am forced to make my parenting decisions not on what I believe is the best thing for my family, but on what other people think I should be doing. Or more accurately, on what will or will not cause others to turn me in to the authorities.

So, being the incredibly logical thinker that I am, I decided to do some research on what my gut was telling me. And you know what? It turns out that the world is just as safe as I thought. In fact, it’s safer than it was 30 years ago! My go-to girl on this topic is Lenore Skenazy, who you may remember as the “crazy subway mom” from 2008. With her help, I’ve done my research and looked at the statistics that we’re dealing with here. As she explains on her blog,

“Had the world really become so much more dangerous in just one generation?Yes — in most people’s estimation. But no — not according to the evidence. Over at the think tank STATS.org, where they examine the way the media use statistics, researchers have found that the number of kids getting abducted by strangers actually holds very steady over the years. In 2006, that number was 115, and 40% of them were killed.

“Any kid killed is a horrible tragedy. It makes my stomach plunge to even think about it. But when the numbers are about 50 kids in a country of 300 million, it’s also a very random, rare event. It is far more rare, for instance, than dying from a fall off the bed or other furniture. So should we, for safety’s sake, all start sleeping on the floor?”*

Now, some may argue that there is still that tiny, random chance that our child could be snatched, and how could we ever live with ourselves* if something happened to our child? Well, my vote is we’re not living now. We’re keeping our kids cooped up indoors and then wondering why they’re fat and addicted to video games. We don’t let them get out and socialize, and we wonder why they’re incapable of handling situations on their own when the get older.

Secondly, and probably more importantly, the risk of your child getting killed in the car that you are driving is, like, a bazillion times greater than that of getting abducted and killed by a stranger. And yet… I strap mine into that hulking metal beast pretty much every day. And raise your hand if you’ve talked on your cell phone with your kids in the car. Your risk of getting your kids killed just shot up a few hundred percent.

So, my point? I strap my kids in the car. It would probably be very hard to live with myself if something happened to them while I was driving. But I continue to take the risk, because I can’t live my life in a bubble. And I do try to take measures to lessen the risk. I’ve got approved car seats, and I try to latch them securely. Similarly, when I let my four-year old ride her bike alone outside, I take the proper precautions to make sure she wears a helmet, knows the boundaries, has street sense, and yes, we’ve had the stranger-danger talk more than once.

And I do try to check on her every couple of minutes. But I’ll be honest… it’s less about me being worried about something happening to her, and more about me being worried about something happening to ME, if someone should turn me in for “endangering” my child. After all, we are encouraged to report each other if we even “suspect” abuse (audio case in point, below).

So, in protest of the ridiculous rules, regulations and laws that are beginning to clip my parental wings, I have joined the ranks of the self-proclaimed parents of “Free-Range Kids,” trying to do our part to raise our kids with a little more autonomy and independence, and hopefully, with the brains in their heads to back it up. We support walking (gasp!) to school (before you tell me how dangerous your neighborhood is, do you have the stats to back it up?), and letting your kids (when they’re ready) take public transportation alone. We support trick-or-treating because there has never been one documented case of someone being poisoned with Halloween candy. We support letting parents volunteer in schools without having to be put through painstakingly rigorous and expensive background checks. We support men, who are not all sex-offenders by nature. We support common sense replacing one-size-fits-all governing. And most of all, we support parents – and not lawmakers – determining when they’re children are ready for independence. Because, as Lenore says, “Children, like chickens, deserve a life outside the cage.”

*For more statistical references, try these links
Land of the free, home of the scared: An interview with Lenore Skenazy
Phony Numbers on Child Abduction
Today Show Revises Number of Missing Kids Downwards

There are so many official “days” and “months” on the US calendar anymore, that sometimes it seems a little absurd. Today, however, is one that means a little more to me. In 2006, congress declared October 15th to be Pregnancy and Infant Loss Remembrance Day. So, I wanted to take a minute to remember Mason, who would have been 2 years and 5 months old today. I lost Mason in December of 2006, before I started the blog, so I never really got to record his story.

Our only picture of Mason

I found out I was pregnant in September of 2006, just weeks after Nick had accepted a position in Portland and had moved down without us, while we waited for our house to sell in Seattle. It was tough going at first, as I had a small toddler and was essentially a single mom trying to sell our house, and I had horrible nausea around the clock. But, we were extremely excited, as we had gotten pregnant much quicker than we had anticipated, and loved the idea of having our kids close together.

Other than the nausea, things went quickly and well, and we finally moved into our house in October. It was actually 3 years ago today, as a matter of fact. I found a midwife here who I adored and was quickly out of the first trimester, and started to get a bit of energy back.

On December 5th, I went in for our routine midterm ultrasound. Looking back after the fact, I knew something was wrong at this point, but hadn’t been able to even acknowledge it to myself. For the week before that, I had suddenly stopped waking up to use the bathroom in the middle of the night, and felt as though my pants had stopped getting tighter by the day.

So, when we got in to the ultrasound and the tech had a strange look on her face, I knew something was indeed wrong. She had me use the restroom to see if we could get the baby in a better spot, but even as I was in there, I knew what was happening. I came back and she looked once more before telling us she was going to get the doctor. Nick and my mom were very confused once she left, so I had to tell them there was no heartbeat. The doctor confirmed this when he came back.

It felt so odd at that point because I wasn’t surprised. I felt almost relieved, like it had been a horrible secret I had been inadvertently carrying for the last week. That feeling didn’t last long, however, before it gave way to the tears and sorrow.

The personnel at my clinic were wonderful, however, and handled the situation wonderfully. I met with my midwife who gave me my options. Because I was 20 weeks along, I could choose to have the baby surgically removed, or I could choose to deliver. At that point, I just wanted it out, but she wanted to make sure I didn’t make any quick decisions, and wanted me to wait until the morning to decide, after I met with the surgeon. I will forever be grateful that she required me to wait.

My mom had to leave and go home the next day, and Nick had to go back to work, so I met with the surgeon by myself in the morning. She tried to explain my options to me, but I didn’t quite understand what she was telling me. It finally clicked what would happen if I went with the D&C route, when she asked me if I wanted to be able to see my baby. I wouldn’t have that option unless I delivered.

I decided I did want to see it, so she quickly called my midwife, who happened to be on call at the hospital at that time. She sent me straight there from the clinic. The hospital staff was prepared to greet me, and took care of me with the utmost respect and dignity. Nick arrived after a couple of hours. They administered some medications that would ripen my cervix and cause me to deliver the baby, but it took a number of doses and a number of hours. Finally, some time around 3 in the morning on December 7th, it was time. I called the midwife in and delivered a tiny little baby boy, whom we named Mason. His umbilical cord was wrapped 3 times tightly around his neck, and my midwife believed this may have been what caused his death, though we’ll have no way to ever know for sure.

I was amazed at the care that the hospital showed us. They took him and weighed and measured him, just as the would have done with any newborn. He weighed 7 ounces and was 8 1/2 inches long. They gave us an unofficial birth certificate with his tiny foot prints on it. Using a black & white disposable camera, they also took pictures of us holding him, which they gave to us to choose to develop or not. The camera, along with tiny infant clothing were placed in a beautiful keepsake box for us.

We have not developed the pictures. I am not altogether sure I want to trade the picture in my head in for reality. Though it was a difficult experience, thanks to the hospital staff and our friends and family, it also became a spiritual one. Being able to deliver him and see him gave us the closure that we might otherwise not have had. Knowing that it was most likely due to an umbilical cord accident let me loose some of the blame I had saddled on my own shoulder, despite my midwife’s best attempts to convince me that there was nothing I could have done.

Almost exactly one year later, we were blessed with another wonderful and perfect baby boy. I was concerned to have another boy right away, because I didn’t want to feel as though he was “replacing” Mason, and making everything “okay” and “right” in the cosmic scheme of things. I know now, though, that one does not replace the other. Mason was our son, and we respect that and miss the life that could have been. We honor the things he has done for us, and the lessons he has taught us. And we praise God for the healthy and beautiful son that we have with us today.

So, to all of my wonderful friends and family out there who have lost as we have (and I know there are many of you), I light my virtual candle with you on this day as we celebrate and remember.

Last year, our friends recommended a Pumpkin Patch to us that they always go to every year. We had a great time, and decided we needed to make it a tradition as well. And this year, it was bigger, better and WAY more fun without a baby in a stroller.

Bauman Farms is way more than your typical Pumpkin Patch. They have a TON of activities that both kids and parents can enjoy. It costs a pretty penny ($10 a person over the age of 2!), but for a once a year tradition, we’ve decided we can swing it.

Click for larger version

We got there right after opening this year, which was perfect and allowed us to participate in all our favorite activities before the real crowds started showing up. Our top picks this year included the Zip Line, Covered Wagon Hay Ride, The Kids Zone, The Hay Castle, The Corn Maze, The Jumping Pillow, Kids Hay Maze, the Frontier Fort with Slides, and the Hazelnut Pit. Mom and Dad also liked the Dark Maze (that’s right, totally dark inside) but the kids weren’t huge fans.

I finally got video uploads working again, for your viewing pleasure:

At the end of September, Nick took the kids on one such aforementioned hike, to Wahclella Falls on the Columbia River Gorge. He was lucky this time and was able to find not only a friend for Mylie, but her dad came too, so Nick got to have a buddy as well. This is one of his favorite hikes, and the kids seem to always do amazingly well. Mylie was excited to wear her hiking backpack the whole time, and Nolan can always be seen sporting his Indiana Jones hat. The kids made it the whole time without complaining, and even got to watch the salmon spawning.

And me? I shampooed the carpets, got my hair cut, and went to dinner with a friend. A lovely adventure indeed.

Let’s face it… I didn’t really ever want boys. I saw them as rambunctious creatures who destroyed property as little kids and were rude to their mothers as teens. I was a girl mom… ready to teach them to dance and sing and…well… do girly things.

And then I met Nolan.

Even up until I gave birth to him, I still secretly hoped the ultrasound was wrong and that he’d end up being a girl. But as soon as I met him I knew there had been a giant boy-shaped Nolan-sized whole in my life that was now filled.

And boy has he got me wrapped around his little finger. It doesn’t help that he is now in my all-time favorite kid stage. You know, where they are now able to communicate and really learn things, and everything they say is adorable? And even their tantrums don’t hold much weight (especially as a second child… “Whatever buddy. I’ve heard it all before. You’ve got to be MUCH more convincing than THAT if you expect me to react.”).

Some of my favorite things:
*Nolan is OBSESSED with trains. He will point out EVERY rail road crossing we come to in the car, ones that I’ve never even realized existed. He loves those Brio-type train sets (no, we don’t have one yet), and he will scream for 45 minutes after you drag him away from one… even if he’s had the good fortune to play with it for over an hour. When he gets ahold of the little train cars, he piles them in his arms and won’t even set them down to play with, lest some other kid even think about taking one for even a second.
*He is slightly less obsessed with planes. He loves to point them out too. And make anything fly.
*He is a total book worm. He would be perfectly content to have me read to him all day. Every day.
*He is great at entertaining himself.
*He refuses to call any animals by their names. He will only call them by the sounds they make. Nolan, what’s that? “Neigh!” You’re right, that’s a horse. Can you say horse? “Neigh!!” Yes, the horsey says neigh, but can you say HORSE? “Neigh!!!!!” (You get the picture).
*He can also roll his ‘r’s. You know, like when speaking spanish? Or like a motorboat? He learned how to do it at nine months, and it makes a very good motorcycle immitation, with which he obliges us anytime a motorcycle drives by.
*His vocabulary is exploding. Of course, most people still wouldn’t understand it, but we do! And he does have a tendency to say everything backward… Cookie= Eekoo, for instance.
*He loves to copy anything Mylie says, does, thinks, etc. And he has started saying prayers at night too, which just melts my heart.

I truly love this kid. I cry just about every time I look at him though, because I think, every day he gets one day older, and one day closer to being three years old, when I won’t like him anymore. Sad. Oh well, I’ll enjoy him while I can!

Being the bad and lazy mother I am, I didn’t really actually do any updates for Mylie on her birthday this year. Nor did I post her first day of school pictures. So, to redeem myself, I’m combining it all into one. Here. Now. Better than nothing, right?

Mylie started her second year of preschool in September. This year, instead of going to the high school program, we have opted to do a co-op. I wanted to try my hand at being a little more proactive in her education, as last year I found it was a little to easy to sit back and watch (or not watch, as the case may be). So, we found a wonderful curriculum and a little group of 8 kids and have jumped in with two feet. Mylie seems to be having a great time, and if you ask her she will consistently tell you that her favorite part of preschool is “snack.”

And where to I begin with the updates?

Mylie is four. She loves to mention that to any guests at our house. She is so very excited to be so grown up, and I have to say the feeling is mutual. By the end of her “threes,” I wasn’t sure if she and I were going to make it much longer under the same roof. And though we are still challenged at times, I am able to see a very tiny light at the end of the tunnel. Tantrums have toned down a bit, as has her obsessive compulsions over things like textures and dirt and the tightness of her clothes. Those things still bother her, but she is developing better coping skills to handle them, especially when she can’t change them. I’ll hear her say things like, “I’m going to deal with it, Mom,” which is a HUGE step for us.

By the end of summer, Mylie was really ready to get back to dance. She got to move up to the next level this year, which moves much faster, and keeps her on her toes (no pun intended….really!). She really does have a budding talent, and has been able to recognize the value of practicing. She will say, “Look Mom! I’ve been practicing!” when she gets something right.

I’ve also started giving her some informal piano lessons. I broke out my old Level 1 piano books, and she’s been enjoying them. Now, before you go accusing me of bragging or being one of those pushy stage moms, let me clarify. I’ve come to the realization this year that I am just not crafty. I don’t have a huge wall of craft supplies all neatly organized. I can’t pull fun projects out of my rear thin air. Trying to put them together stresses me out. But I can dance with her. And I can teach her piano. And it’s been (mostly) fun. At first, I was a bit frustrated by her inability to listen to ANY sort of direction before proclaiming she could do it. Yes, I know she’s four, but still. At least pretend to listen to me. But last weekend, something clicked for us, and in the last 4 days, she’s learned two songs! And since she’s had freakishly large hands since birth, I think she’s got a good future ahead of her.

I continue to be amazed at her memory, and that’s kind of an understatement. There are times when I swear the girl has not forgotten a word I’ve said to her, ever. Even (and sometimes, especially) when I don’t think she’s paying attention. For instance, we have started to read the Articles of Faith (some of our scriptures) every night after dinner. Though she often doesn’t seem to be paying attention, the next night when we come back to them, she has a good portion of the previous night’s memorized. After two days she could recite the first two, and we didn’t even think she was listening.

Also, one time she asked me where the gas from our cars came from. I explained the process once in layman’s terms as I knew it (from dinosaurs, to bones, to oil, to pumps, to factories, to trucks, to gas stations, to cars) and she repeated it nearly verbatim to anyone who would listen for the next week. On September 11th, she started asking about why the flags were flying, and I tried to give her a not-too-scary-but-truthful explanation. Tonight, without prompting, she retold the story again….flawlessly.

I’m sometimes afraid I’m not enough for her. The girl totally wears me out. Not physically, but mentally. My introverted mind needs breaks, and being the extrovert she is, hers never stops. She is constantly asking “what are we going to do next?” before we are half-way through a current task. She will plan out her entire day in the morning, and is constantly thinking 5 or 6 steps ahead. She also has an incredibly difficult time entertaining herself. Now that she no longer naps (and quiet time is difficult with the two kids sharing a room), I often feel mentally exhausted by mid-afternoon.

I do love her though, and she is an amazing kid. It is fun to watch her personality as it continues to grow and shape itself. Every day I’m just thankful that we are no longer in the “threes”. Here’s to the fours being a MUCH better year!