Pardon Our Dust

To better serve our patrons, the Becker Free Library will temporarily be closed for renovations. This is a very very small portion of our children's collection. It has become necessary to find a better way to catalogue our extensive book collections. The "stuff it so tightly on the shelf you can't get any books out" method has not been working so well. The main problem is that when you do manage to pull a book free, the other fifty books that were wedged in there with it come crashing out on to the floor. The kids are also fans of the "throw it on the floor when I'm done reading" method, the "hide it behind the toilet paper so Mom doesn't know I snuck more books into the bathroom" method, and the "take a new book to bed every night and leave them under the covers" method. Matt researched different real methods of book cataloguing, including the old Dewey Decimal system and the Library of Congress system.
After more discussion than was really necessary, we've decided to group non-fiction by subject and fiction alphabetical by author. Here Paul (our elected librarian) is sorting some fiction. Now, not being an engineer type myself, my brain works a little differently when it comes to organizing things. I have no problem remembering that I was reading Martha Stewart's Cupcake Book the last time I was giving Renee a bubble bath, so of course it's shelved right behind the toilet bowl cleaner. I mean, come on, that's entirely logical. About a year ago, before we set up the library, I actually did organize the books on the downstairs shelves according to a very logical and easy to use system. By color. Everyone knows Don Quixote is orange and Robinson Crusoe is red, don't they? That's how I remember things anyways, and if other people can't find books, that's not my problem.

On Christmas Day in the Morning...

Paul woke us up this morning at the agreed-upon hour of 6:30 a.m., by playing Christmas carols on the piano. Matt and I lay in bed listening for about 20 minutes before Paul started to run out of songs to play, and by then everyone else was up.
We really only had a modest pile of presents to go through, se we started by having the kids go one at a time. Halfway through the painstakingly belabored opening of the first present, I ran out of patience and gave the kids permission to dig in and rip.

Legos, Legos, and more Legos. Everyone got their own coveted multi-million piece theme set. They'll be hunched over the table like this for a week, at least.

I was especially amused by the 'educational propaganda' labels on Renee's Lego box. Her set will, apparently, help her with motor skill development, colors and shapes, social skills, and creative development. All I wanted was for her to play be herself and leave me alone for a half hour. I guess I''m a better parent than I thought.
Even the dog got what she wanted. If you remember from her birthday party post, the dog is nervous about any unusual situations or behavior, and she was indeed afraid of her present. She could smell something dog-alicious inside, and didn't want anyone to go near her package, but was afraid to actually touch it herself. Matt unwrapped a nice big new bone for her, which she took downstairs behind the couch to enjoy in private.
Matt got a large pile of wordy academic books, which I am beginning to regret already. Every time I pass by him, he stops me to tell me about some category of ancient history that I never knew existed. I got gold jewelry (he went to Jared!), and a big box full of coffee, chocolate, and maple sugar. So far it's been a good Christmas.

Couch: Reloaded

Way back, over twelve years ago, just before Matt and I got married, we bought a couch and a matching chair. No engagement ring, no fancy wedding, but by Jove, we had a couch! It worked out very well for us, for a few years. The couch was still comfy and sturdy and all that, but the fabric looked terrible- all faded and stained. So, I got a big idea in my little brain, and my over-achieving self decided to re-upholster the furniture myself.

Which I did. Slipcovered, to be precise. At that point we had two children, and I'd seen what they could do furniture. I needed something I could peel off and throw in the wash if a kid threw up all over the couch. Which has happened, more times than you might think is even possible. Those covers lasted a few years before they, too, became faded, stained, and torn. So I made new covers, sometime after baby #4 was born judging by old pictures.
The red covers lasted a few years, and were starting to become very faded and worn. I wanted to wait until after we moved to re-upholster yet again, but my hand was forced when a small hole appeared in the arm of a chair. And as anyone with children knows, a small hole will be made into a bigger hole, and bigger hole, until the entire arm of the chair was hanging off. Here is the work in progress: the faded blue is the original upholstery.
And here is the finished product. I've gotten pretty good at this kind of project, but it is a huge pain in the rear and makes an enormous mess out of the house. I think I ordered 35 yards of fabric, that came on several 5-foot long bolts. I've learned that it's better to just dig in and get the whole mess over with in few days, and let the kids run wild and the house fall into shambles, than to try and do a little bit every day and have it drag on for weeks. I picked a sturdier fabric this time, in a color that I call a cross between muddy dog and spilled coffee, so hopefully this effort will last a little longer this time.

Will The Circle Be Unbroken

As a reward for not driving me to jump off a bridge while I was finishing up a huge project (more on that later) this morning, I promised the kids a special treat for lunch. After we got back from taking the dog for her daily walk we made hot cocoa and popcorn for lunch! Note to self: it's a bad idea to take five children and a dog for a walk when it's 20 degrees out and snowing sideways. At that point,it's more of a death march than a midday stroll.

The kids are fascinated by my new hot air popper. Heretofore we had made popcorn in a pot on the stove, which is a pain in the rear. So we ordered this gizmo to make my life easier. The kids had never seen one before, and it was cause for raucous celebration when the first popped kernels floated into the bowl. We settled in for a nice lunch, and the day's musical selection, Johnny Cash's Greatest Hits. Nothing like The Rebel Johnny Yuma, Don't Take Your Guns to Town, or some Folsom Prison Blues to warm your soul. Little Renee amused the other shoppers at Wegmans one day by standing in the grocery cart singing "Hey, hey, Momma let your Daddy come home". We have very diverse musical tastes here in the Becker household.
The dog did not appear to appreciate the effort we put in to taking her for a walk today. She didn't even hang around to eat the (tons) of popcorn that fell on to the floor. She headed straight upstairs and tucked herself into Elena's bed.

We Don't Need No Stinkin' Snow Blower

Not when we've got free slave labor! Hurry up kid, Daddy's gotta get to work! Don't forget to clear off the mirrors.
This is what my children were doing at 7 a.m. this morning. Don't pity them, we haven't had that much winter yet so they still think this is fun!
Get moving there, Baby. No workee, no eatee.

Happy Birthday, Dog.

Sorry about the sideways pictures again (grrr...) Today is Fly's first birthday. We got the little home wrecker when she was a tiny little 7 week old quivering ball of fur.

Now she's a 52 week old quivering ball of fur. The kids have spent the last year since we got her planning her birthday party. Yes, that's right, birthday party. After much deliberation, we settled on getting her her very own McDonalds' hamburger. With a candle, of course.
The dog started getting real nervous when we put the flaming burger down in front of her. She flipped right out when we started singing "Happy Birthday". But it's not a birthday party without the singing of "Happy Birthday" and flaming food, now, is it? The children were very happy, and the dog slunk away to eat her hamburger behind the curtains, a year older and a year wiser.

The Village People

Gingerbread village, that is. A few years ago, I though it might be fun to make a gingerbread house. It was fun, for the children. The next year, of course, they wanted to do it again. And because I am a type-A over-achiever, a simple gingerbread house just wasn't going to cut it. Thus was born the gingerbread village. I am convinced that most holiday traditions can be traced back to an "oh this might be fun" idea formulated by some hapless mother, who was then forced by her children to re-create the event every year for the rest of her poor, tired life.
Now, because I am a type-A over-achiever and a little bit of a perfectionist, I could not bear to sit back watch children follow through with their decorating. I baked and built the houses, provided all the necessary supplies, and then left the room for three hours to let the kids do their thing. From a distance, their finished houses are bright and colorful and lovely. So far, the dog has only managed to jump up and gobble down one of the little gingerbread people (the gingerbread dog, ironically) and take a small bite out of the corner of one of the houses.

The Real Reason We Homeschool:

So that, on the morning of the first snowfall of the year, we can go outside to play. If you don't have children at home, you cannot possibly realize the significance of this event. It has been anticipated since we first dragged out the winter coats.
After a few more snowfalls, and after the kids have been made to shovel out the cars a few times, the magic will surely wear off.Right now, the kids are in a race against the clock. There's maybe an inch or two of snow, and the temperature is climbing higher into the thirties. By three o'clock, when all the poor school kids start coming home, the snow will be long gone.
This is what we call "packing snow", the kind that's perfect for snowmen, snow forts, and snow balls. I'm actually pretty impressed with the size of the snowballs the kids have managed to roll with such a measly layer of snow to work with. The biggest caveat of snowman building; don't roll the balls so big and heavy that you can not lift them to stack on top of one another, because Mother will not be coming out to help you. Many a 'snow caterpillar' has been constructed as a result of failure to heed this warning.
The real fun is just starting. The snow is melting into the mud underneath, which will soon be tracked in through the house. I now have to deal with the following: five wet muddy coats, five wet muddy snowpants, ten wet muddy boots, about forty wet muddy mittens, and one wet muddy (albeit very happy) dog.