Interview with a Monster

My brother requested that I interview Bella once a week for our family blog and ask her opinions on current events.  This is the result.  (Her newest phrase, when she is in trouble is, "I don't curr [care]."  I was trying to get her to say that about Egypt.  Let me clarify that I do, indeed, care if Egypt gets a working government.  I'm all in favor of stability and democracy.)

Snip-snip

I'll let the following pictures speak for themselves.

Thanks, Cami!  She loves it.

Chugga-chugga-choo-choo!

As part of our spring break festivities, we headed to the Train Museum in Elkart today.  It was really fun.

They have a ride-on Thomas the Tank Engine for the under-three-year-old set.  Bella loved it.  She's recently become obsessed with Thomas.

 She did, however, ask me where Percy was, and if she could ride Percy too.  I'm afraid my answer was a little disappointing.

 They have an engine parked just outside the main museum that you can climb into.  However, after all thirteen children in our group had climbed in, there was no room for adults.  This picture was taken through the very dirty window.  The best part of this train cab is the actual working horn.  (No, the actual best part is that the air compressor that supplies the horn runs out of air after 8 or 9 long honks.  Long LOUD honks.  8 or 9 is plenty.)

 The museum is covered with crazy signage and old railroad ephemera.

 Plus it has two tracks full of abandoned cars with sets of stairs leading up to several of them.  Some of them were death traps. . .

 . . . and some were perfect for a little nap.  (If a little dirty.)

 Bella thought all of them were terribly exciting.

 The tracks were so much fun to climb around.  I have no idea how the museum's liability insurance lets them get away with all of this, but we thoroughly enjoyed ourselves.

 Getting all these little faces to look our direction at once was impossible.  This was the best of several shots.

 We loved the train museum.  I definitely recommend it.

 And if you're wondering how I could take four little kids to the train museum by  myself, meet my new best friend.  (And I'm not talking about Maddie.)  This is my ergo carrier, (Thank you, Krista and Karen!), and it is how I vacuum, how I make dinner, how I do all my chores.  Maddie loves to be right next to me, and this way, she can be.

 I love it when she falls asleep and her little face peeks out the armhole.  :)

 Oh, as an afterthought, I wanted to share these two little still lifes set up in the model railroad room.  I think a crashed airplane is in great taste, no?

And if that's not your style, how about a classic bear mauling?  I wish I could have gotten a clearer picture of this--it was hysterical.

I'm a curmudgeon

I usually think of myself as a young, hip person.  Of course, I happen to be a mom, and of course, I'm over 30, but these things certainly don't make me someone who can't relate to the younger generation, right?  I mean, I remember being 14.  I even sometimes still  feel 13 (so awkward meeting new people), so I just didn't imagine I would find myself being the grumpy old killjoy of the neighborhood.

But. . . (and you knew this was coming). . . I was driving by the school today, and I saw a group of 12-14-year-old kids gathered around the homebase of the baseball field, and there was one kid climbing all the way to the top of the chain-link fence that guards spectators from flyballs. (What is that fence called?  I want to say "dugout", but I know that's wrong.)  Instantly, I stopped my minivan (Minivan?  Grumpy old mom clue #1.) and looked out my window at the kids.  They noticed me and looked back, somewhat cowed by the adult watching them.  (Cowing kids?  Grumpy old mom clue #2.)  They said something to the kid on top of the fence (20 feet up!  I would want someone else's mom to stop my kid if she was doing something that dumb.  Saying that last sentence?  Grumpy old mom clue #3.) , and he started climbing down, casually, but watching me the whole time, obviously willing me to just drive away and go about my business.  But I didn't (Grumpy old mom clue #4).  I stayed, ignoring that awkward feeling of the kids glancing over in my direction even as they tried to pretend I wasn't there.  I waited until his two teenage feet were planted firmly on the ground, and then I smiled and waved at the kids and drove away.  But even as my hipster self was humiliated at the spectacle my neighborhood watchdog self had just made of us, my inner curmudgeon wanted to turn around at the next stop sign and make sure that rascally kid hadn't tried to climb the fence again.  What is happening to me?

Flip-flops, Forts, Friends, and Fun

Is there anything better than a visit from some best friends (or cousins, as Mimi insists these girls are)?  I submit that there is not.  We snagged the Soelberg ladies for the last couple days of their spring break, and it was a delight from beginning to end.  

We began with some crafting--state love canvasses inspired by so many from around the web.  We both made Indiana (that wiggly-pointy part at the bottom left was a little bit tricky, doncha know), and then I added some Ohio and Utah love.  (Gotta represent!)  I'll probably have to add a little heart in the Roosevelt area of Utah soon, but I'm not doing it until I've actually lived there.

 Then we continued with some shopping--the 30% discount offered at Old Navy and Gap because of their "Give and Get" campaign was irresistible and called for a trip to the outlets. . . 

 . . . where we scored some matching flip-flops.  (The little sizes have straps behind the heels and Bella was genuinely distressed that her "fwips" didn't make the right noise.  And click on the picture to see how Bella--in the black leggings--likes to split her toes with the flip-flop strap.)

 Then the girly-girls slept in forts, made by John between the boxspring and mattress of the girls' bed (AWESOME!). . .

 . . . and me, by tying the fort sheet onto the kid chairs (lame).  You can see which fort made it through the night.

It was sad, as it always is, to let our friends head back to the wilds of Bloomington.  Bella nearly had a meltdown when she realized she was not going to be able to climb back into Sara's car and go home with her.  (Are you sure you don't want to come pick her up, Sara?  I think you need just a little more chaos in your life.)

I'm thinking there has to be an opening for a fantastic MBA somewhere in Roosevelt so we can continue our spring break tradition.  I'll be on the lookout.  Okay, Joe?

The World, According to Bella

John:  Bella, are you a crazy little sucker?

Bella:  No, I NOT a crazy little sucker.

 J:  I think you are a crazy little sucker, Bella.
B:  I not, I NOT.  See here, on this tog [tag].  It says, 'Bella not a crazy sucker.'  I NOT.

J:  I defer to the wisdom of the tag.

The Best Part of my Day

 2:43 p.m. Every school day.
I love this face.

 And this face.  (I can't aim my camera)

 And this crazy fashion sense.*

 I had big plans.  We were going to happily work on a fun spring project.  (One of these.)  The house would smell of cookies and sunlight and I would bustle about my perfectly clean house in a smile and a fantastic apron.

My girls would smile and laugh and helpfully help each other and Maddie would play quietly on the floor next to us and Bella would never even dream of cutting her shirt with the scissors or touching buttons on the Cricut or having meltdowns every three minutes or poking herself with the pins or demanding more cheese sticks.  

Well, at least the wreath got done.  And I never actually yelled.  Success!  It's still my favorite time of the day.

*Sidenote:  Olivia's teacher asked me, as I was volunteering at the book sale, if I was "responsible for Olivia's unique sense of style."  (You can tell she thought that question through for a while before she decided on the least offensive wording.)  I told her that Olivia was entirely at the helm of her own fashion boat, and I just tried to make sure the clothes were clean when they left my house in the morning.  The fantastic combinations of elements are pure Liv.