Crafts for Lazy Parents: Make a Caddy

If you're one of those people who enjoys doing multi-step crafts with your children, where you have to do things like use x-acto knives and craft paper, bless your heart. Maybe you're a frustrated artist. Maybe you like doing everything for your children. Maybe you don't like crafts that look like they were made by actual children. Maybe you drink a lot of wine at nap time.

You may have guessed that I am not one of those people.

I'm not much of a free-range parent, except when it comes to crafting. Then I believe the less parental influence, the better. I see my job as providing material and encouragement, not using a hot glue gun or cutting out 100 shapes or tracing patterns or what have you. This is not solely because I am lazy, but because I believe it's pretty easy to squelch creativity. And I would like my kids to be creative. Which, I've been told by many of their teachers, they are.

Behold, the secret to raising creative kids:

The caddy. 

My kids have access to markers, crayons, pencils, glue and paper at all times. Admittedly, this has worked better since Hugmonkey grew out of the draw on the walls phase, but hopefully you're better at supervising your young children than I was. The easy access makes craft time something than can do anytime, not just when I feel like it. Plus, this way they can mix media and clean up after themselves much easier. 

I actually stole the whole concept from my classroom teaching days, where each table grouping shared pencils, glue sticks and crayons (most of my students couldn't afford to bring in supplies of their own). I had tried tubs and pencil boxes with my own kids, but nothing seemed to work the way I wanted it to. Until I remembered the caddies. Luckily, we had decorated some at Ironflower's 4th birthday party and I'd held onto to them. 

So honestly, instead of searching for the perfect craft and spending hours prepping for it, just put a caddy together and let your kids decorate it with stickers. Then hand over the paper and watch the creativity flow. The results might not be pin-worthy, but your kids will learn a lot more. 

We got our caddies from a birthday party, but I'm thinking of ordering these from Amazon so I can have more: 

Baby Cravings

I didn't think it would happen to me.

I had 3 kids in 4 years. All told, I spent over 3 years nursing. I have owned and used a triple stroller and several double strollers. I had at least one kid in diapers for 6 years straight. I still don't know what it's like not to carry snacks in my purse.

But.

I haven't held a baby for more than a few minutes in ages.

That's Lovebug. 

That's Ironflower.

That's HugMonkey. I hardly have any pictures of the poor kid by himself.

I'm craving a baby. Even as I celebrate Hugmonkey heading to daily preschool, the joy of life without diapers and the fact that I don't even have to bring a sippy cup with me everywhere, I am a little sad. There are no babies in this house and there won't be ever again.*  I really thought that 6 years of baby and toddlerhood straight would cure me of the baby cravings. I thought I'd had enough. Apparently I was wrong. 

Last week, Ironflower and Lovebug asked for a little sister. It killed me. It was so sweet and adorable and impossible I actually teared up. In a perfect world, they would have a little sister. You know, if money and multiple c-sections weren't a factor in our lives. And if I thought I could deal with having a toddler again. 

You see, I love babies. I've had baby cravings for most of my life. I love preschoolers. I love elementary school kids. I can even enjoy teenagers. But toddlers? Toddlers are tough. And the thing is, even if I could still get pregnant and afford to have Zara (because that would have to be her name), she wouldn't stay a baby. At some point she would turn into a toddler. And I would become a lousy mother, because I'm pretty sure that Lovebug and Hugmonkey used up all my toddler parenting patience. Toddlers are awesome in many ways, but there are no easy days with them. Hell, there are no easy hours with them. At least not the toddlers I have. 

Clearly I need to get my baby fix another way. Any ideas? 

*I'm 41 and my tubes are tied and we are way too broke to adopt. That ship has sailed so far away that you can't even see it anymore. Unless someone goes all Baby Boom on me and leaves me one. Which would be really, really, weird. 

Lazy Parents Unite

My subscription to Family Fun magazine is about to run out. For those of you not addicted to magazines and/or the child-free, let me describe Family Fun magazine for you. It is filled with ADORABLE! crafts and recipes THAT EVEN YOUR PICKY EATER WILL LOVE! and games THE WHOLE FAMILY WILL ENJOY!

Regular readers of this blog (aka people who know me in real life) will be wondering why I have a subscription to the magazine in the first place. I mean, I can't cook. I think craft time means letting my kids have the glue, markers and scrap paper and very little commentary from me. I don't really enjoy games.

I'm pretty sure that my parenting philosophy, "Lazy parents make problem solving, self-entertaining kids"* is the antithesis of the Family Fun philosophy. I'm reasonably sure that most of the other subscribers became stay-at-home parents out of a lifelong desire, not because they desperately missed their kids and were sick of teaching in the 'hood.** So they do complicated crafts that involve them spending hours cutting out thousands of little hearts and I do crafts that involve me praising my kids' creativity while I blog. They follow recipes for kid-friendly casseroles and design innovative cupcakes, I feel good when I remember to cut up Hugmonkey's hot dog. They enthusiastically play the games as a family and I see how quickly I can teach my kids to play them independently.

When I first started reading the magazine, it reminded me of the kind of parent I thought I would be. The kind of parent I thought I should be. The kind of parent I was trying to be. That perfect kind of parent. The one who thinks it's fun to spend 4 hours playing CandyLand. The one who sits up at night, cutting out construction paper flowers so her kids can glue them on a flower pot the next day. I thought it would inspire me.

Instead the issues just started filling me with guilt. Because I'm not all crafty or able to cook or gung ho about playing with my kids. I'm far from perfect. Sometimes I just want to be left alone. Sometimes my kids seriously get on my nerves. Sometimes it's easier to bribe them with a trip to Wendy's. Sometimes I look through Family Fun and modify every activity so that my kids can do them independently and I can oversee while I blog or whatever. It doesn't take an early childhood education degree to know this stuff. Every time I saw the magazine in the mailbox, I would have this stab of guilt and self-doubt. The stab went from the steak knife kind to the dagger kind and was quickly heading for Valyrian steel sword territory.


But I'm 40 now. It's a little late to be whining about who I'm "supposed" to be. My kids are happy and really good at entertaining themselves, so what exactly do I have to feel guilty about? I'm pretty sure my failure to be a Family Fun kind of mom is not going to be what drives them into therapy. In fact, I'm thinking of starting a new magazine. **** One for all the rest of us: Lazy Parents United. It would include articles on how to bribe your kids into picking up their toys, crafts that require no prep and little clean up, and other tricks for lazy parents.

Would you read it? Or are you a more Family Fun kind of parent?









*I'm totally trademarking that, by the way.

**I was bitten. And had a chair thrown at me. And had a parent stalk me.

***Although that time I donated that wrong bag of toys may be what drives them into an episode of Hoarders. Oops.

****Well, website. Because who would launch a paper magazine these days? Besides, I actually know how to start a website. Pretty sure I could have a future with web design careers!

I Might Need a New Pizza Place

Dear patrons of Village Pizza,

     Did you know that the last two times I took my children to a restaurant other patrons actually complimented their behavior? I swear. Last night was a little different in that my husband wasn't there and we were with another family. And I may have been more interested in talking to the mother of that family instead of keeping my children quiet, but we've been friends since we were 12 and we don't see each other that often.

    So anyway, about the kids. They were having a lot of fun talking to each other, you know. They didn't run around or throw things. Not even Hugmonkey. Okay, he did run along the bench seating, but it's not like anyone else was sitting back there. But the other kids stayed in place and talked. I know it was extraordinarily loud, but they were excited. And Hugmonkey didn't scream or pull hair until a few times at the end of the meal. The truth is, you should be very impressed because the girls handled his grabbing and hair pulling so well - they didn't retaliate or even scream.

      But the way you all looked at us when we (quietly) left the restaurant makes me think that you don't appreciate how well-behaved the big kids were other than the piping voices and how Hugmonkey could have been so, so much worse. So I'm sorry. Our intention was to go to Darla's Porch, the place with the kids' play area, but it was closed for a private function. If your meal was disrupted, you should really blame them. But I apologize for not making my kids behave to their usual standards.

     Though next time you want a quiet meal out, maybe you should choose a place with tablecloths and high ceilings, not a place with tile everything and an area for kids' birthday parties? Just a thought.

                                                                                                 Your fellow patron,
                                                                                                       Triplezmom

Poop On The Beach

The universe is testing me.

Two subjects that other people manage every day are completely tripping me up.

Other people, for example, don't secretly hope to run into douchebags so that they can get a blog post out of it. Other people, I gather, might not even automatically assume that someone is a douchebag within 10 seconds of seeing them. So I've been trying to be more open-minded and tolerant.

Also, I notice that I'm always telling my kids to ask directly and politely for what they want, and to speak up for themselves. Yet there are many occasions - especially with strangers and doctors, for example - where I don't take my own advice.

I was just thinking about my personal goals on Saturday while I was watching the big kids at a local pool. They were in the shallow water, playing happily, and I was chatting with my Dad  - who not only met us there, but managed to snag 2 comfy chairs and a place in the shade. Awesome. There was a group in front of us with 2 toddlers. I started paying attention when I noticed the little girl running around naked and heard one of the adults say, "But is she potty trained?"

The child's mother replied, "If she's naked, it's fine. She can just go in the sand. " You know, the sand were kids were digging at that very moment. THAT SAND. Not the sand off in the bushes away from people who were digging and eating and laying in the sand.

"Um, I think she's already gone, " said the first guy. And super mom said, "Oh, she pooped. You can just scoop it up with one of the sand toys and throw it in the trash."

That's right, the child had pooped into the sand where people were digging and eating and laying. And then they used her toy shovel to scoop it up and throw it into the trash can. And they didn't even rinse off the shovel.

I mean, how the hell am I supposed to ignore this level of douchebaggery? How can I not post about the crazy people who think it's okay to let their kids poop where dogs can't? And to use their kids' toys to scoop up poop?

I can't. I have failed this test, universe. And you know what? I'm okay with failing this part of the test. There are just too many douchebags in the world for me to be a kind, happy blogger.

BUT.

What I am ashamed of is failing to say anything to these people. I just stared at my Dad, both of our mouths wide open. Usually I can think of a good question or comment within 48 hours of an incident, but I am still at a loss. Should I have said anything? And, if so, what?

Help me here, internets.