Tuesday, October 28, 2014
The kindergarten classrooms had a fun bracelet making station that Troy and I decided to check out. He made himself a bracelet from an orange pipe cleaner and blue on orange beads. GO BRONCOS! I found myself reaching over to help numerous times. Or reaching for the color he needed next. I was totally being THAT helicopter mom.
I hate helicopter parenting. I am not the mom that follows my toddler around the playground in fear he might step on a rogue pebble or fall off the beam that sits 6 inches above ground. I feel it is important for kids to discover the world in their own way and for them to test their physical limits. Granted, I am not going to let my small child climb an 8 foot chain link fence or jump off a platform 10 feet in the air. I do believe in safety. My child going down a slide while I watch from the sidewalk and cheer him on is safe. If he lands on his butt at the bottom, I am there if he needs me. More than likely, he will get a confused look on his face, process what happened, and then get up to it again. In that rare (and awful) chance he gets hurt, I am right there to get him the help he needs. KIDS GET HURT.
So why I am reaching for my son's hands to help him put beads on a pipe cleaner? Why am I handing him the beads when he has full motor functionality to grab them himself? I wasn't in any hurry. He wasn't asking for help. What was I doing?
So I busied myself making my own bracelet. If he needed help, he knew I was right next to him. I encouraged him when he showed my his progress and I showed him the pink and white bracelet I was making. He really seemed to enjoy me doing the project with him and seemed more relaxed when I eased off his project.
It really reminded me that I need to pay attention sometimes. I don't want to be a helicopter and it doesn't benefit my kids. So I am clipping my blades.
I even let both the kids carve their own pumpkins...with kid safe knives...while I looked on and encouraged them. And I helped them when they asked for it.
Friday, October 24, 2014
The day I announced to family and friends that I was dating a chef, I began to hear all of the common myths. I believed most of them at the time. But, as time went on, I began to realize that I was wrong. Living with a chef has it's perks (especially when you love and genuinely care for them) but don't let people fool you.
Don' get me wrong. My chef helps out in the kitchen. But, I do the majority of the cooking. Again, those dinner rushes keep him at work while the kids and I fend for ourselves. And when he is home to help with dinner, we are usually tired and come up with the extravagant meal of "Pasta and Sauce". Occasionally we throw a salad in there if it doesn't require too much chopping.
I bet you will eat a lot less junk food...
|This is NOT my house...but I feel like it some times. And it makes me twitch.|
So, there is a little truth to these statements, but I am not living like the rich and famous with a personal chef. I do get to eat a lot of awesome food made from scratch (in part because I love to cook as well) but most nights we are throwing together noodles and leftover sloppy joe meat while praying that the kids will eat it without complaint (and hopefully eat a few carrots with it) Or grabbing a plate full of pizza rolls for lunch as I type a blog post about my chef boyfriend.....
Wednesday, October 22, 2014
This kid has so many handmade blankets. Her grandmother crochets and mommy has crafty ADD. But I saw this yarn and knew that Miss Perry needed another blanket.
The yarn is Baby Bernat in Little Petunias (looks like Neapolitan ice cream) and Baby Bernat in white with a size N hook.
I simply started out with a grany square and just kept going.
I did 7 rounds with the Neapolitan yarn, 3 with white, 2 with Neapolitan, 3 white, and finished with a round of Neapolitan.
It is super soft and Perry loves it. And of course she has taste tested it.
Sunday, October 19, 2014
Wednesday, October 15, 2014
For a woman who swipes on some eyeliner and the occasional spritz of body spray, I sure do post a lot about BEAUTY on my blog. It seems to be a topic popping up everywhere this month...and with Halloween around the corner, perhaps we should be talking about it a lot. We should be focusing on how beautiful a person's spirit is, not how her rack looks in her "Sexy _______ Costume". I mean, is there really such thing as a sexy lobster? And Snow white was not made with garter belts and thongs in mind. Fight me if you want, but she wasn't. Just No.
Beauty is the word of the day with Rory Bore's Tuesday Coffee Chat
So what do I have to say about beauty today? I have a story of my past.
I have naturally dark black hair and light skin. A little like Snow White. My mom used to tell me that my hair made me look like her and strangers in the store would tell my mom how beautiful my hair was.
Then I went to school and the kids realized it was different. Very few kids in my school had darker hair and if they did, they had darker skin. I was not the little blond suburban white girl. I was the "freak" with dark hair. Kids at my school picked on me for a lot of reasons, my hair just happened to be one of them.
As I started the 5th grade, I bore a striking resemblance to Wynona Ryder. This was also about the time the kids at school were allowed to watch BeetleJuice. The mean kids used to yell "BeetlJuice" three times in hopes that I would go away.
That is some mean shit huh?
Anyway, all those years of being told I was ugly and different really wore on me. I tried to change my appearance, my attitude, and anything else I could to simply fit in.
Needless to say, it never worked.
And not only am I okay with that now, I LOVE it.
After a few decades, I embraced who I was (outside and inside) and realized just how beautiful I am. My dark hair and light skin is unique and even my butt chin that I used to hate is beautiful.