Mom's Legwarmers

My mom recently celebrated her birthday, and since I've been knitting full steam recently, I figured I'd continue the trend for her. I decided on a pair of legwarmers. She is always FREEZING, so anything to help her body maintain its heat is always a home run.

(They look very gray here. Not sure why. They are actually the oatmeal color in the picture below.)

It was a very simple 1x1 rib knit. The pattern called for them to be 26 inches long. At first I thought that was ludicrous, but then I tried them on after they were knitted and realized the extra length that allowed you to cover your feet, too, was totally amazing and a must-have!

The book is Last-Minute Hand Knitted Gifts by Joelle Hoverson. It's awesome!

(Psst...I got my copy on the bargain shelf at Barnes & Noble)

They were a little time consuming.

I didn't knit them very quickly, but they were worth every hour in the end.

I think Prissy wants a pair, too.

So warm and cozy on a dreary winter day.

It Has Been a Sad Day for Me

The beautiful thing about young children is they are full of surprises. You never know what will come out of their mouths. Sometimes they have great things to say like, "You're my best!" and other days they say things that aren't so great like, "Get away from me!" Today was a day where the words coming out of Ian's mouth were not the words I wanted to hear.

As we were driving home from school Eli said that he wanted to listen to The Polar Express when we got home. (Our book came with an audiobook!) Ian immediately replied, "Santa isn't real." I was shocked. I asked him, "Is that what they say in The Polar Express or is that what you say?" I knew the answer before I even asked the question, but I still wanted to hear for sure.

Ian replied, "That's what I say. Santa isn't real." Of course, Eli, the King of Li-Li Land, immediately yelled, "Yes he is, Ian!"

I'm sure Ian was prepared for this, because he instantly started defending his declaration. "No he isn't. He couldn't carry all those presents. They would all fall out."

Parenting Ian has been a crazy experience. He is more firmly rooted in reality than most adults. There is no fantasy in Ian's life. He has no patience for fantasy, and no room for it in his heart. He LOVES to pretend, don't get me wrong. But all of his pretend revolves around true life experiences. Everyday he is a variety of tradesmen. He fixes the microwave, the wall, the light, the refrigerator, the car. He digs holes, cuts down trees, pours cement, builds factories and machines. He takes the lawn clippings to the yard-waste dump. All things that must be done in real life. He's also very analytical. I don't know where he gets it. ;-) (Sidenote, Cole's work group: Statistical Tolerance Analysis. I love these Anderson boys and their minds!) At our parent-teacher conference Ian's teacher even told me, "The thoughts that come out of his mouth are not the thoughts of a four-year-old. They are MUCH more mature and insightful." Considering Ian knows volumes more about space than the vast majority of adults, this didn't really surprise me, but when all you are familiar with is your own child's mind....you begin to think that it's normal for 4-year-old children to not only know what a nebula is, but to have a favorite one. (It's the Eagle Nebula, in case you were wondering)

I was so excited for Christmas this year because I was looking forward to experiencing the magic of the season through the eyes of children. Early in the month, to set the mood, I let the boys watch the movie, "The Polar Express". While watching the movie Ian blurted out, "Reindeer can't fly. This isn't real." I didn't know how to respond, so I just didn't. Later in the month we let the boys watch "The Santa Claus." This movie bothered Ian as well. He said to Cole, "Why would Santa go down a chimney? That doesn't make sense." Cole gave him typical parent answers: magic, he just does, etc. None of these made Ian feel better. He just said, "It doesn't make sense. He could catch on fire. Why wouldn't he just go through the door? It doesn't make sense."

A few nights later Cole and I had a serious discussion about how to address this. You could absolutely tell, just by seeing Ian's face, that the concept of Santa was not at all fun or magical. To Ian, the entire concept was quite clearly a burden. A serious burden to his little mind. So we came to a place where we just said, "What do we do?"

We decided to keep doing what we were already doing. We barely spoke a word about Santa the entire season because as soon as the first tree went up, it was as if our children had been raised by wolves. We stayed the course. We didn't mention Santa. We didn't visit Santa. We didn't write letters to Santa. We simply went day to day and avoided Santa talk within the walls of our home. I thought that we were in the clear. Then came Christmas Eve....

When I tucked Ian in that night, he said to me, "I don't think Santa flies a sleigh."

"You don't?" I responded.

"No," he said. "All of the presents would fall out. They couldn't stay in there."

I babbled something about magic and left him to fall asleep.

Christmas morning was wonderful. The boys loved their gifts and were so excited to have some new toys in the house. I thought that Ian's concerns about Santa were a distant memory. As we were packing up to leave for the next few days, Ian pointed to his new Trio Blocks castle and said, "I didn't know Santa could make this kind of building blocks. I think he bought this for me at the store."

I was not going to straight up lie to his face, so I said, "I think you are right. I think Santa knew that you liked these blocks, but couldn't make them himself, so he bought them at the store."

On the way to Flora Cole said, "I think we have one more year of "Santa." Tops." At the time I thought, "Hopefully, I can get two more years out of this," but we were both wrong. Ian's belief in Santa is over.

I've been waiting for this statement since the beginning of December. I could tell Ian sensed something fishy from the night we watched "The Polar Express." As the season progressed, I could tell that he was steadily growing more suspicious of Santa. Today he finally said what I knew had been coming for weeks and weeks.

What do I do now? How do I proceed? Well, until he brings it up again, I'm just going to let it simmer. And until he directly asks me, "Is Santa real?" I'm just going to keep my mouth shut. I'll let him discuss it with himself and form his own opinions. When he's ready to talk about it with me, I'll be honest with him. I'll let him know what's what. I've never lied to the boys, and I don't plan on beginning in order to keep a story going. A story that, no matter how potentially magical, currently has a place in our holiday season much more for my benefit than for theirs. Until that day comes, I'm just going to let Ian's brilliant mind figure out exactly what it is he believes because that is true magic.

I Want You to Know...

...about the time I didn't check WebCT before going to class.

My senior year of college I took a Marketing class with a man named Dr. Bruner. He looked like a total good ol' boy. Cowboy hats, crazy mustache, pearl snaps. But he was a really, really engaging professor, and I always enjoyed his class. I can't remember the course number, but that really doesn't matter. It was Marketing four-oh-something, and it was one of the last Marketing courses I needed to get my minor.

Monday, the very first day of class for the semester, Dr. Bruner stated that he expected us to utilize WebCT for ALL class communication. He said he only used class time for lectures. Announcements could be found online and don't waste time asking about them during lecture. Fair enough. This was a M/W/F class, by the way.

Now, with my class/work schedule I started every single Monday/Wednesday/Friday at 8:00 am in Quigley Hall for my first lecture. At 9:00 I went upstairs and worked as an undergraduate TA in the Textile Lab for two hours. I then had to beat feet across campus to make my 11:00 lecture with Dr. Bruner in Lawson Hall.

So, Wednesday morning rolls around, and I attend my 8 o'clock class, work two hours in the Textile Lab, and then I head over to Lawson Hall for Marketing four-oh-something. I didn't watch the clock very well during my work hours and am, therefore, running late for class. I dash into Lawson Hall, open the door to the lecture hall, and it is packed! To make matters worse, two TAs are handing out tests. Aaaaahhhhh!!!!! Who gives a test on the second day of class?!?!?!

While I'm silently berating myself for NOT CHECKING WEBCT, I start searching wildly for a seat. Like I said, this lecture hall is packed! Hundreds of people. I finally find a seat all the way down front, and all the way to the wall. So, I'm forced to climb over about 20 people to sit down, and they're all pretty irritated with me. But still not as irritated as I am with myself for not checking WebCT. And, as you can imagine, since I haven't even checked WebCT, I most certainly have not opened the text book yet!

I get my test and there are only two questions. Essay questions. Not even a 25% chance from multiple choice. The TA is rambling on about being sure to put your section number on your test, and I'm so freaked out that I can't even guess what our section number is. I ask the girl next to me, who I've just seriously roughed up with my backpack, our section number. She's kind enough to mutter, "Zero-three," and I scribble it down while thanking her for her help but avoiding eye contact. My attention then snaps back to the TA as she is explaining the test was designed to take only 40 minutes. That means 20 minutes for each essay. "Oh! Only forty minutes you say? So that gives me a whole ten extra minutes to figure this crap out. Thanks a lot," I think to myself. I am seriously trying to center myself at this point so I can fumble my way through the test.

After a few more calming breaths, I work up the courage to read the first question. As it has been eight years, I can't remember what exactly the test questions were, but I don't have a clue how to answer the first. It is like reading gibberish. I flip it over hoping that somehow, someway the answer to the first question will come while I read the second question. The second question is equally cryptic.

At this point I am utterly befuddled. How can I be in a fourth year Marketing class and have absolutely no idea how to begin answering these questions? I mean, really, I have NO idea where to begin piecing a semi-acceptable answer together. I flip back to the first question, and immediately abandon it again. Back to question two. Again. I read and read and read the question, and I finally get inspiration for an answer that might, just might, get 60% credit. 70% if mine's at the bottom of the pile and the TA is sick of grading.

I start writing frantically. I'm writing, writing, writing. "Oh, my gosh! It's already been 15 minutes and I'm only 3/4 of the way through this essay! I still have to write an answer for the first one! Aaaaahhhh!!!!!" runs through my head. I decide to flip the test back to question one (yes, I am fully aware that this is a horrendous way to take a test, but I'm FrEaKiNg OuT!), and I start reading question one again. This is when I notice a critical piece of information.

Now, I feel obligated entitled to explain that Lawson Hall is a circular building. The lecture halls are shaped like pie wedges, all nestled together snugly. There are really no distinguishing features of the building that can be used of landmarks. It's uniformity had to be some architects pride and joy. But, for a 22-year-old fashion student running late for class, the uniformity of Lawson Hall was not architectural genius; it was a big old hairy mole.

As I stare down at the test, after 15 minutes of answering essay question number two, I notice, printed in big, black, bold letters, ADVERTISING 104 emblazoned across the top  of the page. I am in the wrong lecture hall. And, now, I am taking a test for a class in which I am neither currently, nor previously, registered. And, I am missing the lecture for the class for which I am registered. I. Am. An. Idiot.

I can not believe what I have done. What a fool I am. How did I miss the fact that this isn't my class? Now, I have to get back out of here!

I gather up my test, climb over all 20 people, who, thank, god, I never have to see again since they aren't my classmates, and walk all the way up the aisle to the back of the lecture hall. As you can imagine, I'm the first out of my seat, and the TA collecting tests is beyond confused. I hand over the test and then whisper, "Um, yeah, you don't need to grade mine. Uh, I'm not actually in this class. I should be in the hall next door," and then dart out the door, but not before the TA has a chance to laugh in my face.

I walked into my actual class about 20 minutes late with a bright red face that day. Oops! But, I still learned a valuable lesson: always check WebCT before going to class. Had I done it Tuesday night, I would have known we did not have a test on Wednesday and would have saved myself a lot of ink by not trying to take Advertising 104's.

I Want You to Know...

...how to make the best Ginger Snap Cookies.

I absolutely loathe cooking, but if you catch me on the right day, I actually quite enjoy baking. Maybe it's because everything I bake is loaded with sugar, at least, that's my guess.  And to be quite honest, I'm not bad when it comes to baking. With the exception of chocolate chip cookies, pretty much everything I bake is delicious. My specialty, however, is Ginger Snap cookies, and you boys should know how to make them.

I adapted this recipe from one I found online. The original recipe also called for cloves. I omitted those because anytime I taste clove, I throw up, but that's a story for another day. The most important thing to remember when making these cookies is to take them out of the oven as soon as the egg is cooked and let them finish cooking on the sheet out of the oven. This way you will have "snappy" edges, but soft middles. These are perfect winter cookies....or spring cookies or summer cookies or fall cookies. Yum, yum, yum!

• 1 cup packed brown sugar
   3/4 cup vegetable oil
• 1/4 cup molasses
• 1 egg
• 2 cups all-purpose flour
• 2 teaspoons baking soda

  
  Directions:

  1. Preheat oven to 375 degrees
  
  
  2. In a large bowl, mix brown sugar, oil, molasses, and egg. Combine flour, baking soda, salt, cinnamon, and ginger; stir in molasses mixture.
  
  
  3. Roll dough into 1 1/4 inch balls, and roll in white sugar before placing 2 inches apart on greased cookie sheets.
  
  
  4. Bake 10-12 minutes in preheated oven, or until center is firm.
  
  
  5. Cool on wire rack
  
  
  
  

• 1/4 teaspoon salt
• 1 teaspoon ground cinnamon
• 1 teaspoon ground ginger
• 1/3 cup white sugar for decoration

I Want You to Know...

...that I didn't put my life on hold for you.

I hear that a lot from stay-at-home-moms. I used to say it myself: "My plans are on hold for now." But, as the time has passed, I have realized that the concept of "putting my life on hold" could not possibly be more incorrect. Let's rewind to November of 2007, shall we?

In November of 2007, your dad and I had decided that our lives were at a point where I could quit working and go back to school full time beginning in January 2008. I had already mapped out a class schedule, and was planning to register for classes mid-December. Well, the universe has a funny way of laughing in our faces when we carefully craft plans for the future. Instead of choosing classes during December, I was choosing an obstetrician. That's right; Ian was in the oven! To quote Clark Griswold, "I couldn't have been more surprised if I woke up tomorrow with my head sewn to the carpet."

I waited until the Fall 2008 semester to take a couple of classes (and just so you know....Dumbest. Idea. Ever.), and accepted the fact that I was now going to be a part-time student and MOTHER instead of a full-time student. It was very difficult to find the time to do everything I was committed to doing and make sure I was doing it all well. And over the next three years, the struggle to find balance continued. Finally, in January 2012 I threw up my hands and said, "Enough!" It was too much. Too much for me. Too much for your dad. Too much for you boys. Too much for all of us. My (second) college education needed to wait until it was the right time for our family. My life was really "on hold."

For a year now, all of my efforts, all of my energy, have been poured into our family. Into being a stay-at-home-mom. Into being a wife. Into being our "family manager." Into being more focused, more available, more engaged. And in this time, I've come to realize that my life was never "on hold." Not for one single nanosecond. My life had changed the very instant Ian took his first breath and so had my priorities. I realized my life had been in full swing for over three years. More so than it had ever been. I was exponentially happier than I had ever been in the past....if you could mathematically measure happiness, that is. It just took me a while to see these facts clearly.

My life was never on hold because I was busy being a mother and not a full-time student. If anything, my life had been on hold because I was busy trying to be a part-time student and not a full-time wife and mother. When I'm soaking in smiles, kissing boo-boos, tickling chubby legs, singing to tired ears, rocking with a full lap of children, teddy bears, and books, threatening to take toys to the basement, cleaning spilled oatmeal off the table, cleaning every single textile in Ian's room because it's been doused with baby oil...my life is moving right along as it should be. When I was hiding away at the library for hours upon hours to prepare for my next Organic Chemistry test, missing bed time snuggles and family dinners...that's when my life was on hold. Giving up my ideal schedule for the future freed me to fully experience the present in all its messy glory, and it was the most amazing opportunity I have ever had the privilege to stumble into.

You only get one childhood, which means I only get one shot at being a stay-at-home-mom to sweet little chums. My life is not "on hold" during this period of time. For all I know, this could be the very season of my existence that my life is the fullest. I don't regret a single day of my tenure as stay-at-home-mom. Maybe my future isn't going to play out quite like I thought it would, but so what. My present is sheer perfection, and that's all I care about right now.

Mom

A Letter to My Children

Dear Ian and Eli,

You have brought more meaning to my life than I ever could have dreamed possible. You are my love. You are my happiness. Nothing comes close to owning my heart the way the two of you do. I hope for the happiest, most incredibly fulfilling lives for the two of you. I hope you live life on your terms and know that I don't just give you permission to dream big, it's something I expect you to do. To help you realize what I want for you and your lives, here are some guidelines in no particular order:

I hope that you are the most honest person that has ever graced the planet. Nobody, and I do mean NOBODY, likes a liar. There's a 100% chance that at some point you are going to screw up, and I'm going to be mad. If you are honest with me, I'll still be ticked, but I will respect your honesty and you will still be trustworthy in my eyes. No amount of punishment is worth avoiding if it means losing the respect and trust of others.

I hope you never stop learning and never become complacent with what you know. I want you to have a burning desire to understand more every single day you open your eyes. Consider this: Dark energy makes up over 70% of the universe. Scientists don't know what it really is. If 70% of our known universe still doesn't have an explanation, there is plenty to learn in this life of yours. Still don't believe me? Walk into any university's reference library, and then tell me you don't have anything left to learn.

I hope that you find the value of experiences far, far, far outweighs the value of stuff. Stuff is just stuff. It won't make you happy. It does not define who you are. Ultimately, it means nothing. Having nice things isn't bad, but becoming materialistic is. You don't need a big new house, shiny new car, or every single electronic device to have a full life. Focusing on attaining these things will make you lose sight of what you do need to have a full life. You need places to roam, people to meet, oceans to swim in, mountains to climb, stars to gaze upon, birds to watch, friendships to nurture, food to taste, music to hear, books to read. The list goes on and on and on and...

I hope that when you are an adult and decide it's time to spread your wings you don't just teeter over to the edge of the nest and then fall off the side or even worse, retreat to the basement. (I'm telling you now this is a major no-no.) Fly out of the nest. Better yet, soar. And whether you choose to make your home right next door to your dad and I or somewhere like Timbuktu, know that we support you. We might not like our limited face-to-face time with you, but we also know that you only get once chance at life and there will be a LOT to squeeze into that short period of time. You can't waste your time pleasing us, you have to live your life for you.

I hope you realize that you, and only you, are responsible for your happiness. If something isn't working in your life, change it. If you are waiting for someone else to come along and make you happy you are wasting your time and you are putting an unnecessary burden on someone else. Take yourself to a movie if you really want to see it. Make a reservation for one at that restaurant you are dying to try. Sign up for that bookshelf building class because it's something you are interested in learning. Doing things by yourself is a great way to figure out what your passions are and what makes you truly happy.

I hope you travel to the ends of the earth. I want your passport to be so thick and full of stamps that you have to check it with your luggage because it won't fit in the overhead compartment. I hope you see the way dozens upon dozens of cultures live. I hope you adopt some customs for your own life and realize that others are best observed and not experienced personally. I hope that during your travels you gain a greater appreciation for your own life, and take the time to help better someone else's. I hope you make lasting friendships on every continent to which you travel, and I hope you lose a piece of your heart to every land in which you step foot.

I hope you find the courage to try things that scare the ever living hell out of you. Like the time your dad and I free-fell from 40 feet in the air and then swung out over a ravine on Maui. I thought I was surely going to die of a heart attack, or at the very least, pee my pants. Obviously, I didn't die, and I swear I did not pee my pants. Now, I can honestly say that I never need to do it again. The key word here is "again." I'm not looking back and saying, "I wish I would have..."

I hope that when you sit down for drinks on the first date with your future wife, and she says, "So, tell me something I don't know about you," that your mind is so full of memories and experiences that you won't have a clue where to start and words just come tumbling out of your mouth in a jumbled mess. And when the two of you decide you can't live without each other, I hope there is still a lifetime's worth of wonderful things to uncover about one another.

I hope that you come to realize the most beautiful sound on the planet is the sound of your newborn baby's cries and, later, your children's laughter. And if you decide that kids aren't in the plans for you, hopefully your dog's barking is like music to your ears instead of incredibly annoying like Prissy's. But, remember, I would really like a shot at being a Nana. :-)

I hope that you know that I don't care if you cure cancer, AIDS, diabetes, and the common cold or scatter puke sawdust at hockey games as long as you take pride in your work and do it with passion and integrity. Don't choose a career because of the money or prestige or because it just sounds good. Choose a career because it makes you wake up sad on Saturday morning because you don't get to clock in for another 48 hours. You are going to spend a LARGE portion of your adult life working. Do what you love, love what you do.

I hope you never live your life according to a rigorous plan. I've tried it; it doesn't work. Stay in the sun until you get a sunburn, play in the snow until you're numb to your elbows and knees, swim until you're so prune-y people think you must be a shar pei. Allow yourself to become so completely and utterly consumed with what you are doing that hours pass in the blink of an eye. And when the time finally does come to call it quits, don't lament about all of the things you should have been doing because, honestly, if it was that important you would have taken care of it first.

I hope you never let someone limit your potential. You are amazing people who are capable of so much. Remember that it isn't always a matter of natural talent or inherent intelligence. Most often in life it comes down to who is going to work the hardest. If you make it a point to have an exceptional work ethic, confidence in yourself, and unending perseverance, nobody will be able to stop you from getting to where you want to be. It might not be easy, but it will be worth it.

I hope you remember that the love I have for you is unconditional. Whether you are on top of the world or at your lowest-low, you can always count on me to love you no matter what. Believe me, I wouldn't have taken injections that burned like fire in my belly every single day of my pregnancy from five weeks gestation until 6 weeks postpartum if I didn't love you with all my heart, Ian. And, I damn sure wouldn't have done it a second time if I didn't love you just as much, Eli. And just so we're clear, I will throw this little factoid in your faces as a major guilt trip when you act like punks during the tween and teen years. :-)

This list definitely doesn't hold all of my hopes for you. There are so many that I could never write them all in one letter or even one hundred letters. But, I do hope that you see a theme to what I want for your life. I don't want you to wake up on your 100th birthday and think, "Wow. I've existed for a long time." I want you to wake up and say, "Wow. I've lived for a long time." And, yes, my dears, there is a HUGE difference.

My eternal love,

Mom

My Knitting Heart

I am so lucky to have joined a Mom's Group about a year and a half ago. I am being totally sincere when I say joining the group changed my life. Until then I didn't know anyone in town and felt very lonely and isolated and completely stressed out raising two little chums with no help within 100 miles. Since joining the group, I've made wonderful friends and created a network within town that keeps me feeling so happy and no longer alone. It was such an amazing blessing in not only my life, but, indirectly, the boys' and Cole's lives, too.

One of my favorite things about my group is all of the different talents the moms have. I'm not entirely confident that I bring any talent to the group, but I feel no guilt in benefiting from everyone else's. It's kind of a one-sided relationship, but I don't think they mind too much. :) I mean, I bring fruit when it's my Thursday to bring fruit.

Anyway, back in November one of members who is an amazingly talented knitter taught the group how to knit. I had learned to knit six or seven years ago in order to meet the requirement of giving a handmade gift to one of my sisters for Christmas, but didn't keep up with it for very long. However...now that I've got my needles out  again, I. Am. Loving. It. I am also becoming much more confident in my ability to follow a pattern and learning new techniques. Don't get me wrong, I'm still a total novice, but I like to think of myself as an "Advanced Beginner" now.

Since November I have knitted three scarves, five pairs of leg warmers, and one and a half sweaters. Yes, half. Cole's sweater is still on the needles.

I've made five pairs of these leg warmers, and let me tell you, there is nothing cuter on a little girl's legs than sparkly leg warmers. This pair went to one of my nieces. I've made them in pink, too....also super cute!

This pattern came from Charm Stitch.

I made this scarf for my nephew. In case you have no idea what is going on here, it's a LEGO brick scarf. Excuse the junk on the table. It was right before Christmas, and to say I was scrambling to finish everything is beyond an understatement.

I bought the pattern for this scarf from the author of this blog.

Something I didn't see coming was asking Santa to knit two of these dragon scarves, only to realize they scared the hell out of the chums. Um, that REALLY stunk considering the time it took Santa to knit these things. We're talking hours upon hours. Oops!

This is a really bad picture because I forgot to rotate it. It's giving me vertigo just looking at it. Yikes!

I have more projects in the works and will post pictures once they are complete or have been given to the intended recipient. I can't wait to finish everything currently in the works and get started on the boys' Easter sweaters!