Last week we spent three nights up at Grandpa John's house. There was some snowmobiling, some lefse-making (thanks Mom!), some polka dancing (to old records--good times), lots of eating.
I'll post pictures when I get them resized.
This week we're vegging out at home for a couple days and then tomorrow we'll start the next holiday.
It's been snowing all day long. I did venture out this morning, the kids and I went to the library, but I sort of regretted it. But what's a girl to do when she's out of reading material? I heard that a town about 40 miles north of us got 10 1/2 inches by 9:00 this morning. We hadn't gotten nearly so much--maybe 3 inches. But wouldn't you know that just when I decided to drive a few miles the snow really started falling. We left home at 9:40 and got back at 11:40 and I'm sure another 4 inches had fallen. Our truck doesn't have anti-lock brakes for now because something went hay-wire with them back in June. John intends to look into it but time slips away somehow. For now I have to learn how to drive the old-fashioned way: by pumping the brakes myself if we get into a bit of a slippery spot. I prefer not to risk it so most of the time I stay home.
What a boring post. I'm really very sorry about that.
Tuesday, December 30, 2008
Friday, December 19, 2008
Funny boys
John had the day off work yesterday and we brought Clayton to Hazel's house. On our way there Clayton was very mopey and gloomy. We were trying our best to cheer him up, saying that we'll go snowmobiling soon up at Grandpa John's and maybe he should tell Hazel that. Clayton said, "I'm not gonna talk to Hazel." Then he thought for a bit and said, "Even if I talk like I'm happy, I'm still mad." He takes after his dad...he couldn't promise he wouldn't talk.
Today the boys and I went grocery shopping and maybe it was my imagination but I kept smelling something funny. (And don't even tell me a skunk smells it's own scent first. It was NOT me.) I was loading the bags into the back of the Suburban and the boys were waiting for me to buckle them. When I opened up Clayton's door I said, "Pew! Did one of you boys toot?" They both denied everything. So I got Clayton buckled and went around to my door. As I was getting in I heard the boys muttering to each other, "SHE probly did it."
Today the boys and I went grocery shopping and maybe it was my imagination but I kept smelling something funny. (And don't even tell me a skunk smells it's own scent first. It was NOT me.) I was loading the bags into the back of the Suburban and the boys were waiting for me to buckle them. When I opened up Clayton's door I said, "Pew! Did one of you boys toot?" They both denied everything. So I got Clayton buckled and went around to my door. As I was getting in I heard the boys muttering to each other, "SHE probly did it."
Thursday, December 18, 2008
Lefse recipe
I had a couple requests for the recipe, and it's so easy I thought I'd post it quickly. There are several ways to make it, but I love a recipe that I got from my older brother Lee probably 6 years ago. It's quick and easy and there's no need to chill the dough or rice the potatoes (huh?).
You need:
3 cups unsalted mashed potatoes
1 Tablespoon salt (seems like a lot but you need it! Dough is bland otherwise)
3/4 cup sweetened condensed milk or half 'n' half
2 1/2 cups flour
1/2 cup butter
Mix it all together (I use the Kitchen Aid). If the potatoes are still hot that will melt the butter and that's good. If you're using leftover mashed potatoes that are cold, you'll want to soften the butter.
Roll out balls of dough as thinly as possible on a floured pastry cloth and use a sock on the rolling pin.
Bake on a hot lefse griddle-I think I put the temp at 400 degrees-for a minute or so, until the lefse bubbles up in places. Flip and cook just a little more.
We stack the hot lefse inside a towel to keep it warm and moist.
You need:
3 cups unsalted mashed potatoes
1 Tablespoon salt (seems like a lot but you need it! Dough is bland otherwise)
3/4 cup sweetened condensed milk or half 'n' half
2 1/2 cups flour
1/2 cup butter
Mix it all together (I use the Kitchen Aid). If the potatoes are still hot that will melt the butter and that's good. If you're using leftover mashed potatoes that are cold, you'll want to soften the butter.
Roll out balls of dough as thinly as possible on a floured pastry cloth and use a sock on the rolling pin.
Bake on a hot lefse griddle-I think I put the temp at 400 degrees-for a minute or so, until the lefse bubbles up in places. Flip and cook just a little more.
We stack the hot lefse inside a towel to keep it warm and moist.
Wednesday, December 17, 2008
I heart lefse
It's the season for lefse. Family tradition dictates that between Thanksgiving and New Year's, countless batches of lefse must be made, preferably with someone. It's not as fun alone.
Our first time this year was the day after Thanksgiving.
Our first time this year was the day after Thanksgiving.
I even made a batch of gluten-free, dairy-free lefse for Joel that turned out exceptionally well. I wish I could remember what I did...
He ate piece after piece. I took that to mean he liked it.
He ate piece after piece. I took that to mean he liked it.
Special visit
This picture has nothing to do with anything. I just like it. That's my blanket, by the way. I love my snowman blanket. I bought it for myself last year because I figured all the kids had their own special blankies and I wanted one too.
We got to have a visit with Angie and Ida Mae for a couple days. We sang every night, and even had a recorder recital by Rebecca, accompanied by Angie the pianist.
I asked Angie if she liked lefse and got an enthusiastic YES! So we made some.
Ida Mae was willing to taste the first piece.
Goofy Angie, with flour all over her face to make it look like she was really working hard
We got to have a visit with Angie and Ida Mae for a couple days. We sang every night, and even had a recorder recital by Rebecca, accompanied by Angie the pianist.
I asked Angie if she liked lefse and got an enthusiastic YES! So we made some.
Ida Mae was willing to taste the first piece.
Goofy Angie, with flour all over her face to make it look like she was really working hard
Easily entertained
Outside the Museum of Natural History, everyone was watching a little bunny. Then one of the kids threw a snowball at it and it ran. All of us moved on when after about a block I realized that one of the boys wasn't with us. I ran back to find him and he was unconcerned that he almost lost his family--he was only intent on tracking the bunny. When I found him he said, "I almost had him! I was so close! But then he went into the bushes." Rats.
Museum of Natural History
All ten crazy kids. Don't mind Chet, at the rear of the bear...
Clayton with a turtle puppet.
Joel is standing behind two whale vertabrae...unbelievable, isn't it?
This is an elephant skull.
Joel is standing behind two whale vertabrae...unbelievable, isn't it?
This is an elephant skull.
The tusks would have been on either side where Joel's hand is. The trunk would have come out that gaping hole, and the eye sockets are on the side, but not the dents you see. I think that's the ear spot or something. I really know my animal anatomy.
We got to see lots of unusual animals there, like this deerboymoose. 
Chet and Joel got to see this gecco eating it's own skin. Now THAT was exciting for two little boys!
Doug loves bugs. Even millipedes.
Jim held this cockroach. Clayton held a smaller one but couldn't keep it in his hands and it landed on his pants. He jumped around like it was IN his pants.
Hello, Mr. Turtle.
Doug loves bugs. Even millipedes.
Jim held this cockroach. Clayton held a smaller one but couldn't keep it in his hands and it landed on his pants. He jumped around like it was IN his pants.
Hello, Mr. Turtle.
Saturday with family
Joel, Chet, Clayton and Luke. I'm not sure what the game is...it appears to be Neanderthal Hockey.
Jaina and I dressed exactly alike on accident.
My sis, driving.
Jaina and I dressed exactly alike on accident.
My sis, driving.
I had to laugh at Jerry, trying to balance his checkbook with a toy cash register.
Snow and school
Clayton and Joel both got new snowboards, so when Clayton saw flakes covering the ground he beat it out the front door all bundled up, only to discover that it wasn't quite enough to slide on. The next day he told his daddy to return the snowboards because they don't work.
Joel had a craft/project day at school last week that I went to help with.
Joel had a craft/project day at school last week that I went to help with.
After they cleaned up, one of the moms read a story to get the kids settled down. That's Joel's teacher behind the desk.
Thursday, December 11, 2008
Craft night
We are all feeling crafty tonight.
John is drawing a red tractor, which gets exclamations from the kids like, "Oh, that's good Dad!" This is said in awe and wonder.
Joel is drawing what appears to be a peacock and a fox by a Christmas tree. We don't encourage the Christmas theme, but today at school (family craft day) his class made gifts, most of which were decorated trees or reindeer. I got excited to see a mitten project or a snowman stick...just plain old winter items.
Rebecca is cutting out snowflakes and having a wonderful time.
Clayton is cutting a piece of red yarn into teensy-tiny bits. I sat and watched for awhile and then said, "Clayton, how about I give you a haircut and then a bath?" This kid has wings on the sides of his head. He does not care. Anyway, he was pretty serious about his project and replied, "No. I'm makin' somesin."
"What are you making?"
"It's somesin what I don't know what it is. But it's gonna be cool."
John is drawing a red tractor, which gets exclamations from the kids like, "Oh, that's good Dad!" This is said in awe and wonder.
Joel is drawing what appears to be a peacock and a fox by a Christmas tree. We don't encourage the Christmas theme, but today at school (family craft day) his class made gifts, most of which were decorated trees or reindeer. I got excited to see a mitten project or a snowman stick...just plain old winter items.
Rebecca is cutting out snowflakes and having a wonderful time.
Clayton is cutting a piece of red yarn into teensy-tiny bits. I sat and watched for awhile and then said, "Clayton, how about I give you a haircut and then a bath?" This kid has wings on the sides of his head. He does not care. Anyway, he was pretty serious about his project and replied, "No. I'm makin' somesin."
"What are you making?"
"It's somesin what I don't know what it is. But it's gonna be cool."
Sunday, December 07, 2008
She's good at pushing my buttons
In fact, she's an expert. She pushes buttons I didn't even know I had. Who's that, you ask?
Rebecca. My dear, sweet daughter. At least, people tell me she's a sweetheart. I don't see it.
Excuse me while I vent.
Every stinkin' night she has something new to cry about. Every night. Every. Single. Night.
She's eight years old. Well past the age of needing to cry herself to sleep.
We've had countless discussions in the past few days, mostly me asking her why she doesn't listen to me. Me, telling her she can't go by "Rebecca rules," but instead really needs to obey me.
Rebecca is one of the most difficult children I've ever known. Ever ever ever. When I do things for her, it's not good enough. She wants more. It's not perfect. In short, she's hard to please.
She's stubborn and whiny and dramatic and contrary.
Can you tell we just had another confrontation? I'll tell you about it. Even if you didn't want to know.
It's bedtime and everything is going smoothly. She went potty on command and brushed her teeth. She got her pajamas on without being asked. The boys have been tucked in, and I go to tell her goodnight. I do this reluctantly because I just know that even though everything up to this point has been fine, we're not out of the woods yet.
Sure enough...I got her tucked in, kissed her goodnight and almost tripped over myself trying to get out of her bedroom before she thought of something to delay falling asleep.
Ready?
"I need my recorder tomorrow at school so I have to go get it and put it in my backpack!"
Fine, I think. Go get it and then go to bed.
She got it, but then decided that bedtime is the perfect time to empty out her backpack. She found candy wrappers, dirty socks, a water bottle and a sweatshirt before I reminded her that bed is the place to be. Right now.
She hopped into bed again, willingly enough.
And then there was the major problem.
"I didn't do my homework!"
This is Sunday night. I tried to get her to do it Friday night but I could tell she was in no mood for math. (Read: major meltdown) I told her she'd be doing it Saturday and said I'd help her. To me, this means being available when she has a question. To her, this means that I sit right next to her for as long as it takes to finish, occasionally playing dumb so Mom will finally do the problem for her. Since I was quite busy with laundry and dishes and cooking and trying to get the house whipped into shape for company, I could not just "sit" anywhere. So she took that to mean that if I didn't have time for it, she didn't either and went out to snowboard.
Saturday slipped away, as Saturdays are known to do.
Sunday was filled with very good things, including two meetings and wonderful company. This left little time for such mundane things as homework.
Now it's bedtime and she decides she needs to do it and I need to help her. No deal, I said. Moms need vacations as much as anyone, and mine just started. I'm off-duty until 7:00 a.m. Monday morning except on a case-by-case, emergency basis. Homework isn't an emergency.
I told her, "You will do your homework, but you'll do it right here in your bed." She seemed fine with that.
I went upstairs and worked on my bedtime routine: contacts out, teeth brushed.
Then I heard it...the unmistakable sound of feet coming up the stairs. And I knew. Here comes the meltdown.
She planted herself in a living room chair. I said, "That's not your bed. I told you to do your homework in your bed." No answer. I might as well have been talking to the kitchen table.
I said, "Rebecca, why did you have to wait until now? It's too late now. It's bedtime."
No answer.
After about 10 minutes of me getting more and more frustrated (this really honestly happens every night) she finally said that she didn't do it because it's boring.
Boo hoo.
Not a good enough answer. Too bad, tough cookie. You're going back to your bed and you'll do your homework there.
Then the crying began.
Cry cry cry, sob sob sob, throw in a few screams for good measure.
Every night.
Different excuse, same result.
Goodnight Mom! Love you! Oh, but I'm thirsty.
Fine, get a drink out of the bathroom faucet.
NO! I want a sippy cup! (Uh, did I mention that she's 8?)
No. If you're thirsty, you'll get a drink out of the faucet.
NO! I want a sippy cup!
Listen, missy. I'm not giving in. If you're really so thirsty, you'd drink out of the toilet. Now quit your complaining. (Can you tell my patience goes to bed early in the evening?)
Cry cry cry, sob sob sob, scream scream scream.
Goodnight Mom! Love you! Wait...I wanted to make a card for Emily.
You can do that tomorrow. It's bedtime now.
But I'll be quick...please?
No, it's bedtime. Goodnight.
Cry cry cry, sob sob sob, scream scream scream.
Goodnight Mom! Love you! Oh, Mom? Where's my bear and it's bottle?
I'm not sure, Rebecca. We'll find it in the morning. It's late. Goodnight.
But I want it NOW!
Cry cry cry, sob sob sob, scream scream scream.
And on it goes.
I can't wait to see what she dreams up for tomorrow night.
And I really wish I could see the "sweetheart" side of her that other people see. Sometimes when everyone's asleep, it's my turn to cry into my pillow. I don't want to have such an awful relationship with our only daughter. It breaks my heart. Almost every night, I resolve to try harder in the morning. I will have more patience. I will give her hugs. I'll love her crabbiness away. But morning comes and something hinders my good intentions. She won't get dressed for school. She screams at her brothers and then slugs them for good measure. It's always something. There's a wall between us. I want to take it down.
I remember when she was three years old. She was so good I remarked on it to a friend of ours. She was perfect, we hardly ever had any problems with her. I'd like to know how to get that back.
And I still maintain that my sister is that cause of all this. Years before I had kids, I witnessed one of her daughters have the biggest fit you ever want to see. I may have commented on it. I suppose I said something to the effect, "If she were my child..." My sister looked at me with daggers in her eyes and very calmly said, "I hope you have one just like her someday." That I did. Those girls are so much alike it's scary. They look more like sisters than cousins and have matching personalities.
I tell myself on days like this, "Brina has survived so far, and I can too."
Now scroll down and look at the pictures of Rebecca again and wonder how someone so cute can have such awful fits.
I'm reminded that poem that says, "Mother so tired and weary, worn out with the toils of the day..." and each verse ends "Send your children to bed with a kiss." Some nights my kisses are just this side of a bite.
Rebecca. My dear, sweet daughter. At least, people tell me she's a sweetheart. I don't see it.
Excuse me while I vent.
Every stinkin' night she has something new to cry about. Every night. Every. Single. Night.
She's eight years old. Well past the age of needing to cry herself to sleep.
We've had countless discussions in the past few days, mostly me asking her why she doesn't listen to me. Me, telling her she can't go by "Rebecca rules," but instead really needs to obey me.
Rebecca is one of the most difficult children I've ever known. Ever ever ever. When I do things for her, it's not good enough. She wants more. It's not perfect. In short, she's hard to please.
She's stubborn and whiny and dramatic and contrary.
Can you tell we just had another confrontation? I'll tell you about it. Even if you didn't want to know.
It's bedtime and everything is going smoothly. She went potty on command and brushed her teeth. She got her pajamas on without being asked. The boys have been tucked in, and I go to tell her goodnight. I do this reluctantly because I just know that even though everything up to this point has been fine, we're not out of the woods yet.
Sure enough...I got her tucked in, kissed her goodnight and almost tripped over myself trying to get out of her bedroom before she thought of something to delay falling asleep.
Ready?
"I need my recorder tomorrow at school so I have to go get it and put it in my backpack!"
Fine, I think. Go get it and then go to bed.
She got it, but then decided that bedtime is the perfect time to empty out her backpack. She found candy wrappers, dirty socks, a water bottle and a sweatshirt before I reminded her that bed is the place to be. Right now.
She hopped into bed again, willingly enough.
And then there was the major problem.
"I didn't do my homework!"
This is Sunday night. I tried to get her to do it Friday night but I could tell she was in no mood for math. (Read: major meltdown) I told her she'd be doing it Saturday and said I'd help her. To me, this means being available when she has a question. To her, this means that I sit right next to her for as long as it takes to finish, occasionally playing dumb so Mom will finally do the problem for her. Since I was quite busy with laundry and dishes and cooking and trying to get the house whipped into shape for company, I could not just "sit" anywhere. So she took that to mean that if I didn't have time for it, she didn't either and went out to snowboard.
Saturday slipped away, as Saturdays are known to do.
Sunday was filled with very good things, including two meetings and wonderful company. This left little time for such mundane things as homework.
Now it's bedtime and she decides she needs to do it and I need to help her. No deal, I said. Moms need vacations as much as anyone, and mine just started. I'm off-duty until 7:00 a.m. Monday morning except on a case-by-case, emergency basis. Homework isn't an emergency.
I told her, "You will do your homework, but you'll do it right here in your bed." She seemed fine with that.
I went upstairs and worked on my bedtime routine: contacts out, teeth brushed.
Then I heard it...the unmistakable sound of feet coming up the stairs. And I knew. Here comes the meltdown.
She planted herself in a living room chair. I said, "That's not your bed. I told you to do your homework in your bed." No answer. I might as well have been talking to the kitchen table.
I said, "Rebecca, why did you have to wait until now? It's too late now. It's bedtime."
No answer.
After about 10 minutes of me getting more and more frustrated (this really honestly happens every night) she finally said that she didn't do it because it's boring.
Boo hoo.
Not a good enough answer. Too bad, tough cookie. You're going back to your bed and you'll do your homework there.
Then the crying began.
Cry cry cry, sob sob sob, throw in a few screams for good measure.
Every night.
Different excuse, same result.
Goodnight Mom! Love you! Oh, but I'm thirsty.
Fine, get a drink out of the bathroom faucet.
NO! I want a sippy cup! (Uh, did I mention that she's 8?)
No. If you're thirsty, you'll get a drink out of the faucet.
NO! I want a sippy cup!
Listen, missy. I'm not giving in. If you're really so thirsty, you'd drink out of the toilet. Now quit your complaining. (Can you tell my patience goes to bed early in the evening?)
Cry cry cry, sob sob sob, scream scream scream.
Goodnight Mom! Love you! Wait...I wanted to make a card for Emily.
You can do that tomorrow. It's bedtime now.
But I'll be quick...please?
No, it's bedtime. Goodnight.
Cry cry cry, sob sob sob, scream scream scream.
Goodnight Mom! Love you! Oh, Mom? Where's my bear and it's bottle?
I'm not sure, Rebecca. We'll find it in the morning. It's late. Goodnight.
But I want it NOW!
Cry cry cry, sob sob sob, scream scream scream.
And on it goes.
I can't wait to see what she dreams up for tomorrow night.
And I really wish I could see the "sweetheart" side of her that other people see. Sometimes when everyone's asleep, it's my turn to cry into my pillow. I don't want to have such an awful relationship with our only daughter. It breaks my heart. Almost every night, I resolve to try harder in the morning. I will have more patience. I will give her hugs. I'll love her crabbiness away. But morning comes and something hinders my good intentions. She won't get dressed for school. She screams at her brothers and then slugs them for good measure. It's always something. There's a wall between us. I want to take it down.
I remember when she was three years old. She was so good I remarked on it to a friend of ours. She was perfect, we hardly ever had any problems with her. I'd like to know how to get that back.
And I still maintain that my sister is that cause of all this. Years before I had kids, I witnessed one of her daughters have the biggest fit you ever want to see. I may have commented on it. I suppose I said something to the effect, "If she were my child..." My sister looked at me with daggers in her eyes and very calmly said, "I hope you have one just like her someday." That I did. Those girls are so much alike it's scary. They look more like sisters than cousins and have matching personalities.
I tell myself on days like this, "Brina has survived so far, and I can too."
Now scroll down and look at the pictures of Rebecca again and wonder how someone so cute can have such awful fits.
I'm reminded that poem that says, "Mother so tired and weary, worn out with the toils of the day..." and each verse ends "Send your children to bed with a kiss." Some nights my kisses are just this side of a bite.
Wednesday, December 03, 2008
Pictures
Back in October we went to Jer and Brina's for a night. In the morning the girls wanted to do a little photo shoot, so this is what resulted:
Mom or Brina--If you want any of these pictures, let me know and I'll e-mail you a bigger file. These are only e-mail size for easy uploading.
Mom or Brina--If you want any of these pictures, let me know and I'll e-mail you a bigger file. These are only e-mail size for easy uploading.
I love this one of Rebecca. It's my new favorite.
Leanne and JainaI managed to get a few pictures of the boys too, although they didn't last long. Playing cowboys was way funner.
We were silly. I love Chet's expression.
And then there's Joel. These boys really don't make a habit of kissing each other. They were just being totally goofy.
We were silly. I love Chet's expression.
And then there's Joel. These boys really don't make a habit of kissing each other. They were just being totally goofy.
Going through old pictures
In an effort to catch up, I've posted some pictures from the last month. I have many more where these came from. Stay tuned.
Oh, and it helps that I figured out how to resize the photos. That makes uploading a breeze!
Oh, and it helps that I figured out how to resize the photos. That makes uploading a breeze!
Harvest
Behind our house is a small cornfield. Every year I look for the combine and then send the kids out there to watch. We're easily entertained. This year Clayton was next door playing with the little neighbor girl and her baby brother. When they heard the tractor they scampered outside and sat there for a good hour. 
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