PDA

Tonight sitting in the Drive-thru line at Little Ceasar's I got to smooching on my husband. Our kids had very different reactions to our little private display of affection.

Hannah (who I peeked at was smiling widely) exclaimed, "Beautiful!"

Carter: "Ew, Yuck!"

Ethan: Grunt.

Hm. Boys.

Guiltless Thursday- Project Two: Children's Profiles

It's guiltless Thursday again... my how the weeks fly by. In any case, this week I decided to hang up my aprons--so to speak-- and instead work on another project I've been meaning to get to for, oh, I can't even remember how long. Children's Profiles. I've seen these done by several different people, and decided that I like the plaque board with vintage paper method the best.

*Can I pause here and just say that I am in LOVE with Roberts Arts and Crafts. That place is like the candy store. Only so much better, because you don't leave toting 10,000 calories in hand. I swear, if I didn't have to tote 3 kids with me, I'd probably go there every day.

So that brings me back to the children, and their darling little faces, which I desired to document by doing PROFILES! This project was SO MUCH FUN, and so easy, except for the whole "posing the children" part. Only the four-year-old was cooperative. But once that was done, oh, it was just so much fun, and the kids have LOVED watching me transform their little faces.

Supplies: One thing I love about this project is that it is CHEAP. Which is important for any of you that have families out there. You need: a camera, a printer, photo paper, black paint, paint in the color you want your board, fun/vintage scrapbooking paper (or whatever thick paper you want to use), plaque boards, mod podge, and sponge brushes.

To Make: First photograph your child from the side. Easier said than done, especially with a baby. Then crop and size the picture into a 5x7. Print the picture on photo paper (or very thick paper like resume paper), and cut out, paying close attention to detail.

Once the picture is cut out, paint it black-- this takes about 3 coats. (Side note: kinda strange to take a darling picture of your child and then wipe black paint all over it. It felt a little bizarre on the first few strokes) Let the paint dry.

While it is drying paint the border of the plaque with the corresponding color to your paper. Let that dry completely and then do a second coat.

Trace the oval from the plaque onto your vintage paper, and cut it out. Make sure it matches.

Once all the paint is dry you can begin putting it all together. First, brush Mod podge onto the wooden plaque and place paper on it, smoothing out all the air bubbles (also easier said than done). Once the paper in on, position your profile and using Mod Podge, glue it to the paper. Let it dry for 15 minutes, making sure again to smooth out all the air bubbles. Then you seal it by brushing Mod podge to the entire surface, as well as the sides (which gives it a nice, shiny, finished look) and voila`!

The finished Project! Happy Crafting Everyone... hope you enjoyed.

I'll be finishing my aprons, as well as a wall letters project next week. Send along any ideas, corilynn6@gmail.com

PS. One of the great things about guiltless Thursday, is also the movie I put on while I'm working. I usually put on one of the fav's, meaning I've seen it alot and can enjoy it without really watching it. Tonight, Mr. Robinson had some work to do, so I put on a nice quiet non-distracting movie. My all-time favorite, Pride and Prejudice. Just in case you don't already know, I am OBSESSED with Jane Austen. And I'm pretty sure that the scene when Mr. Darcy is walking across the field towards Elizabeth Bennett has got to be about the most romantic moment in movie history. I stopped what I was doing and sat open-mouthed watching him cross that field as the sun rises. Oh my, swoon swoon.

Crying Days

Do you ever have crying days? Days when, for no particular reason you just want to lay your head down on your arm and sob, and then you do. And everything you see inspires said hysterics: your children being naughty, your children being nice, some random person's blog, looking in the mirror, etc. etc. etc. Strange. I guess it's a girl thing. I don't think men have crying days. That's not fair, by the way. It's a crying day for me, by the way, and I'm pretty sure I know why. There's alot of stress around me right now. Even though life is really good. And I mean really good. Still, too much stress, it makes me feel like I'm going to pop. My husband is so much better at this kind of stuff than I am. Another reason I thank the stars that I am married to him. I realize I'm being all shades of vague, but I don't have the energy to explain why life has gotten stressful all of the sudden. Remember-- crying day. But I promise I will soon. The sun is out today, never mind the fact that it's freezing. I prayed for sun yesterday, because it's been gray in Utah for way. too. long. See, the Lord knows what we need. Excuse me, I'm getting emotional, again.

hump day

I swear, Wednesday has got to be about the longest day of the week. It just keeps going and going. No matter how fast my week seems to go, Wednesday always takes forever. If I can just get over the hump the weekend is only a blink away.

I think I can, I think I can, I think I can...

Mom, on your 59th Birthday.

Dear Mom,

So all day today I thought about how it's your birthday tomorrow. Well actually, by the time I post this it will be tomorrow. Something I get from you... being a night owl. I've been thinking all day about you, and how I wanted to call and wish you a happy birthday right now, because I'm so excited about it, and I want you to know I've been thinking about it, and you for the past few days. But then, I wondered if that would take away from my day of birthday call, and so I thought I better wait until tomorrow.

But birthday calls can be sort of lame anyways, because some stuff you can't say out loud or it just sounds cheesy and ridiculous, like the words of a song. They only work when sung. If you speak them, their magic dies.

So I want to write you a few things that I wouldn't say in my birthday call, because bad cell phone reception and my voice might ruin them.

How do you celebrate the woman who gave you life? The one who endured hours of hard labor, screamed at the nurse and then brought you into this beautiful world. How do you tell her that everything she touches is magic? That her style spills over into everything she does, that no one makes cinnamon rolls like her. That the sound of her voice is more familiar that my own. That all her little quirks make her more lovable. That I see her face every morning when I look in the mirror, and I like that. How everyone who knows her, loves her. How she has been the saving grace of our family, of me.

No one understands me the way you do, Mom. Being with you, talking to you is so natural, like breathing. I have to remind myself to hang up with you when we are on the phone-- and my cell phone bill pretty much always reflects that. Whenever I have to leave you, or you me, it always feels too soon. I have to repress the urge to pull a Hannah and sit in front of the door refusing to let you exit the house. And I want to cry like my children as I watch you drive down the street and away from me and I feel that same familiar ache of homesickness in my chest. They love you too, you know, almost as much as I do.

But probably not as much. I don't know if anyone could love you as much as I do. And I love you more every year I am a mother, and I understand at a deeper level how hard it was to be the kind of mother that you were, and love us the way that you did. And Mom, that's saying alot. Because I've pretty much worshipped you my entire life, really.

Some people's souls just speak to each other, and yours speaks to mine. Thank you, Mom. For being alive, for being the rock that you are, the steady hand, the comforter, the example. For teaching me how to be a mother. And being there for me when the application isn't so easy. You are an elect lady. Happy Birthday.

Love,

Your Third Child

saturday morning dialog

Carter runs in and sees Hannah laying on the floor with lots of towels underneath her.

Carter(at the top of his lungs): "Hannah, why you laying on the floor!?"

Hannah (rolls over and croaks): "I got sick last night, Carter. I threw up a lot of, and throwing up a lot of doesn't feel good at all. It's yucky."

Carter(again at the top of his lungs): "Hannah, why you laying on the floor!?"

Ah, he's a great listener.

Guiltless Thursday-Project 1: Reversible Aprons

I did it. I kept my promise to myself, and took a time out tonight. And believe me if there was ever a week to make excuses for not having "me time," this, my friends would be it. (We're putting our house on the market, yuck. Long story, which I am NOT going to tell now.) So tonight, my fabulous husband (have I ever mentioned this before? Well if not, HE'S FABULOUS!) went down to work on organizing the basement, and I stayed up in our room working on my reversible aprons and bonding with my new Minnie Mouse sewing machine. Never mind the fact that it took me over an hour pouring through the instruction manual (which is written in so many different languages it was difficult to find English- no, I'm not exaggerating) just to figure out how to set thread length, width, and tension, and thread the darn thing. I quite enjoyed myself, and I nearly jumped up off my chair and clicked my heels together with glee when I discovered that MY sewing machine has an automatic THREADER! That is wicked COOL! I threaded and unthreaded it at least 5 times, just for the fun of it. And every time I'd let out a little shout of glee when the teal thread I was using just slipped right through the needle. It takes so little to impress me. I was even more delighted as I stitched the rickrack onto my little brightly colored aprons and discovered that my little Minnie Mouse, just smiled right across it, without even skipping a beat, as if to say, "please, is that the thickest you could do?" My old machine used to break needles on that kind of stuff. Oh I am in seamstress heaven.

So did I finish my aprons yet? Heck no. I've got another date with my little singer for next Thursday.

Minnie, I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship.

Progress, my friends.

PS. Sorry about the use of so many "littles." But really, it couldn't be helped. When I'm excessively happy the word just slips into EVERYTHING.

outgrown.

While I was sitting at my parents house on Sunday night eating some wicked good spice cake that my mama made, my brother Matt walked out of the laundry room and over to the kitchen table with a load of his laundry. He wanted to show me how he knows how to fold his own laundry now. He carefully folded up his shirts and pants explaining which day he was going to wear each outfit. I watched him, and... thought. Hannah is learning how to fold her own clothes. She likes to help me fold the laundry. She's also four. And my brother, is twenty-eight.

When I was five years old and learning how to read, I'd come home from school and go over letters and words with my brother. He was eight, and we learned to read together. I remember the day when I understood more than my brother. It was a strange day, when I realized that Matt was going to take a lot longer than me to learn how to read, or do math, and some things he would never understand, like how to tie his shoes, or how long an hour is. And I felt sad.

I didn't want to leave him behind. I didn't want to outgrow him.

Matty has had alot of buddies. Some of them have been special like him and they never outgrow each other. Brad, and Jodi. Other's have been young children when they were friends with Matt and then left him behind as they've grown to adulthood. And then there was cousin Kurty. Who started being Matt's favorite when Matt was 12 and Kurt was 5. He would come over and play with Matt, and as he grew he began to understand more. But he kept coming. That young man (who's serving a mission in Argentina right now) kept coming over to spend the night with his Down Syndrome cousin until he was in High school and my parents moved away. But he would talk to Matt on the phone, and he writes him letters now. He is a gem. And it makes me happy.

Because there are people out there who keep caring about the special people even when they don't have to, that let themselves stay young and child-like enough to understand that you should never outgrow someone like Matt. There are things he can teach you that are much more important than tying your shoes.

And so I sat thinking about all these things, and watching my older brother interact with my three children. Holding his little namesake- Ethan Matthew, laughing at Hannah's jokes and getting upset at Carter teasing him. And I hoped that they would never outgrow their Uncle Matt.

Then I smiled, because I still talk to him every day on the phone. And he always pretends to be someone else at first. And I play along. And he laughs, and I feel happy, because deep down I will never outgrow Matt.

best. friends.

they are lucky.

so am I.

Widowed me.

So last night I took my kids on a date. It was Friday night, so we went out. Even though Daddy was absent, we went out. Me and all three. We did a little shopping, just one store, and then went out to eat. We went sit down, because they bring the food to you. There's no way I can carry a baby, a purse, hold two other children's hands, and carry a tray full of food. Don't be fooled, I'm no wonder woman. Oh wait, you were never fooled. Rats.

Anyways, IF I could do all those things at once I might have gone to Bajio, best Mexican EVER! (That's for you Randy.) But I can't, so we went sit down. And everyone was so darn nice to me. I felt pretty special. All these old women smiling at me, my waiter being extra nice--bringing my kids fishy crackers while we waited, putting our order in first-- some lady at the table across the room smiling and nodding encouragingly. Except, she kind of looked like she felt sorry for me. Hmm. I thought, and then everyone's expressions started to make sense. They either think I'm divorced with 3 small kids, or widowed with 3 small kids. How... sad. Why else would I brave a restaurant with 3 small kids, right? Why, because I wanted to take my kids on a date. Because I'm an awesome mom and let them order breakfast for dinner... the best. And even let my baby have a sip of my soda, oh I guess I'm a terrible mother.

So I smiled back and nodded too, laughing to myself because at that moment my husband was winging his way back to me. I'm sure I'm going to be the subject of a sacrament talk someday... "I saw this young mother in a restaurant one night, and I don't know her back story, but ..." tear, sniff sniff.

Guiltless me-time. Every Thursday.

My husband got me a sewing machine for my birthday. Did I not mention that yet? Hm. Well, he did, that fabulous tuned-in man that he is. He got me exactly what I wanted without me even knowing that I wanted it. Believe me, I'm not just saying this. Or writing I guess. I love to sew. Alot. This obsession started when I was a teenager and getting close to that pivotal moment when I would pack up all my personals and truck it off to college, and I realized that my mom wasn't always going to be right there in the next room to handle all of my pants-hemming needs. My mom has wicked pants hemming skills, by the way. And pants hemming-skills are a necessity when you live at under 5 feet, because even when you DO happen to find pants in a size short, they are still too long. So I marched up to my mom one day and boldly told her that I was ready to take heed to all of her homemaker lessons. She was patient, and I hacked up many a pair of pants before I did a pair that was acceptable enough to wear afterwards.

This was the beginning of my love. For some reason I enjoyed screwing up all those pairs of jeans, and that sense of accomplishment when I finally got it right. Then I got married, and I wanted to make curtains for our apartments. So my mom drove up to Rexburg and let me use her old sewing machine, and taught me how to make curtains. Then I needed a bridesmaid dress and my mother-in-law showed me how to sew with a pattern. Then a few years later I used those skills again when, like a dummy, I volunteered VOLUNTEERED! to make mine and all my sisters bridesmaid dresses for my little sister's wedding. Um yeah. I've made quilts, curtains, Halloween costumes, hemmed alot of pants, etc. etc.

So back to my birthday present. It was a surprise, true. I hadn't even been thinking in that direction, at all. Apparently, Craig came up with the idea back in October when I was whining about how my old sewing machine was such a piece of junk, and the tension was always screwed up, which meant I never got a great stitch, I broke thread and needles constantly, and basically stopped wanting to sew altogether. My two least favorite things about sewing are threading the machine and replacing the needle. But had I thought to ask for a new one, no. See what a good listener my hubby is. It was time too, I wasn't exaggerating about my sewing machine being a piece of junk. It wasn't a bad sewing machine in its day, which was a long. time. ago. I received the little hand-me-down 5 years ago from my mother, right after I got married, she had sewn on it for about 12 years herself, and purchased it at a garage sale, before which it had been sewn on for who knows how many years. Yeah, it was time.

I got my birthday present, and went out a day or so later to buy a bunch of cute bright material to make the reversible aprons I've been wanting to make and putting off, because of aforementioned machine issues. So I got my fabulous Singer sewing machine, which has stitching capacities beyond my wildest dreams, and even better looks kind of bubbly--like it just might be Minnie Mouse's sewing machine. Does that make sense?-- Meghan would understand.

So I've got my machine, my material, and guess what happened next. Nothing. I haven't even plugged it into the wall pulled thread through the machine. I don't even know HOW to thread the thing. And. that. is. pathetic.

And it bothers me.

Because I want to play with my new toy.

And sew my aprons.

Because I like to be creative.

Even though I'm not artistic.

But I want to be.

And I started thinking about all my little projects that I have sitting in my craft box and my closet, that I just haven't gotten to yet. And why haven't I gotten them? I don't make the time, that's why. I let everything else get in my way, and that has become painfully apparent this week as I have this overwhelming itch to pull my new sewing machine out and everyday goes by and it doesn't happen again.

So this week, I made a decision. No more. I'm done with not having time for things that light me up, and make me feel human, and creative, and happy. Not that I'm going to spend endless hours crafting it up and ignoring my motherly duties, but I will give myself a few hours, once a week to just do whatever little project I want. No guilt. No apologies. Let's say Thursdays. Yeah, I like that. Because today is Thursday and I want to sew tonight, especially since Craig is out of town. And I'll post my little projects in their in-progress and finished states, so you'll know I'm living up to my word. And you can send me along your little craft ideas(please include pictures), because I'd love it. I'm totally an idea stealer. Send them along. I'm ready. I'll put you on my schedule. Every Thursday.

corilynn6@gmail.com

intimidation

I'm sure that Carter is absolutely convinced that he's the toughest little kid in the world. And he may be right. That little hurricane head isn't intimidated by anyone. This attribute would be quite endearing if he wasn't in such a nasty stage. And I mean nasty. I'm not sure, because I only had one brother, and he is the definition of angelic, but I didn't think that little boys were so rambunctious, and physical, and satanic. Okay, satanic might be going a bit far, but seriously, what is up with all the biting? Hannah didn't bite. Ever.

So that's my big problem with Carter. He's completely wild right now. And I don't just mean out of control (which he is by the way), but I also mean wild. Like thinks he's an animal and stuff. I thought that was cute for about 5 minutes, until he started licking everything. Not to mention the fact that he is in no way intimidated by me, or Craig, or any other adult for that matter. How do you discipline a kid who's growling at you? I don't want to be "that mom" that screams at her kids all the time (whenever I holler I feel like a complete jerk). But I also don't want to be the other brand of mother, who let's her kids be little hellions, running around and causing an uproar wherever they go. I'm honest enough to admit that even though they might think it's darling, nobody else does. And I don't want my son to end up a menace to society. Which, by the way, badly behaved kids are.

Anyways, so I've been trying to figure out what to do with my eldest son, and how to show him that I love him while also letting him know that it is unacceptable for him to yell "you be quiet, Mom!" and then hit me on leg. Hmm.

So I've got a few tricks up my sleeve and a saint of a hubby, who's got some good ideas about disciplining the little monstrosity as well. I just never really got it when everyone said that each child is different and you have to deal with each of them in their own unique way. Oh, boy I get it now. I'll never criticize my parents again.

PS. Ethan is pretty much a heaven sent child. The kid is like a chocolate silk pie with whipped cream on top. Deliciously perfect, and totally edible. I could nibble that baby all day long, and it always makes me feel better when the older boy is being a turd. Excuse me, I think I need a little snack.

don't mind me... I am in mourning.

One of the best things, no scratch that, THE best thing about Christmas Break is that I get to have Craig at home with me for 2 whole weeks. Despite what I hear many women say, and write, this doesn't bother me. I never feel ready for him to go back to work. It probably has something to do with the fact that Christmastime is all about playing and being together, and eating lots and lots of sugar cookies. And if you want some good company for any of those three activities, Craig's your man. Except he's not, he's my man. Sorry ladies. So I like to call this week, the week AFTER Christmas break (except for the highlight of my birthday) my mourning week. Because the holidays are over and Craig went back to work. Poo, poo. But oh well. Back to reality, all my laundry is done (that was a feat, let me tell you) the house is clean (a feat as well) Christmas decor is back in the box, and I am feeling mighty fine because I didn't gain a pound over Christmas break. Not a one. In fact, I'm down one. This is brilliant considering the fact that I made my little resolution to lose a few pounds back in October, before the holidays hit. I was a little nervous because we were at Disneyland, and let me tell you people when I go to a theme park, I eat Churros. And cotton candy. And ice cream. And funnel cakes. And whatever else I can get my hands on. (hmm, I never did get my funnel cake, darn it. Oh well, I guess I did have 4 churros:-) All the walking must have helped me keep the pounds off, because I certainly ate. So I guess that brings me to our fabulously delicious Christmas break spent as a study in CONTRAST. We spent the first half (the Christmas half) in So Cal with the Meaker clan frolicking around Disneyland, eating (as I mentioned), riding rides, doing snowflake dances (Nick was the best snowflake), getting rained on, getting snowed on (I'll explain later), going to a liquor store at 11 pm on Christmas eve--and getting hit on by a slightly scary guy(while in my pj's-- I'll explain that later too), being Santa Claus, putting fake tattoos all over ourselves(not going to explain that one), taking turns carrying the kids on our shoulders (live it up munchkins your not going to be the only Grandkids forever, with a slue of adults at your disposal), pushing the kids in the stroller and Matt in the wheelchair, and pretty much not sleeping... at all. It was fabulous. I would do it again, and again...

Nap time. Disneyland style.


On Christmas eve, it snowed... well soapsuds anyways. But nonetheless, it snowed in Disneyland. It was magic. I cried, like actual tears. Disney does everything right.

This baby was absolute perfection the entire time. Thank heaven for angelic third children.
Our little jont to the liquor store (the only place that was open) was in search of something to make a tree with, (we found the perfect green bag!) and for some vanilla ice cream to go with the pie we picked up at Denny's (next to the liquor store)
Our marvelous tree...Santa can find you, even in Disneyland.

Christmas eve pie.
So these people totally walked into the picture right as we were taking it, nice.

This little girl was pretty much glued to her uncle Matty's lap. She also had to ride on every ride with him. Matt was in heaven, so was Hannah.

Carter getting ready to go on his very first roller coaster ride! He was a little hesistant.
Minnie Mouse's house. Hannah is in little girl heaven.no comment.
whatsoever.

yeah, serves you right.



A dipped waffle cone with ice cream on Main Street in Disneyland, with my favorite guy. I am in Cori heaven.

The second half (the New Years half) was spent up in Snowy Snowy, Idaho with the Robinson side. Shut up in the coolest cozy little cabin (with a real live LOFT--that I got to sleep on!). I read, we took naps, sat in a hot tub (while it Blizzarded around us--very cool), rode snow machines, sledded, drank ALOT of hot cocoa(my kind of time), played games(including video, very rare for me), watched movies, and rang in the new year to the sounds of my little 3 year old nephew throwing up. It was perfect. Except for the throw up part, poor little Luke. No child that darling should ever be so sick. Sicknesses like that should be reserved for nasty adults.

Sled trains are a winter wonderland, must.

Oh yeah, that's my 3 year old and his best buddy, cousin Luke, airborne.

The rugged Robinson men.

Everyone playing/watching people play the wii. That's me in the background, little miss anti-social with my nose buried in a book.

So we played and played and then played some more, for two weeks straight, and I've had the grumpy children and pile of laundry to prove it. But like I said earlier, I'd do it again, and again.

perfect.

Blogging Slacker

What is it about Christmas Break that makes it impossible for me to post? For some reason every time I sit down to write something about it, I can't. I'm too tired from all the running around, and then there's too many fun things to blog about, and too many awesome pictures to go through and try to pick out ones to post. Anywho, I'm not feeling any more inclined today, especially since it's my birthday and I'm turning 26. 26. That sounds like an adult. Yikes. When did that happen? I was thinking about how it's been 20 years since I had my magic birthday, and my mom took me to the mall to get my ears pierced. I was so terrified that my mom had to take me into a store with a dressing room and we had to say a prayer so I would have the guts to go have some lady put a little jewelry gun to my ear and shoot. I wouldn't leave the mall though, until my ears were pierced. It's a little girl's right of passage. My ears were sore for the rest of the day, but I picked out little silver heart earrings. Can I possibly be old enough to say that something happened 20 years ago and I remember it? Then I was thinking about how 10 years ago I came home after having dinner with my friends and my sisters and mom had FILLED our house with people for a massive surprise 16th birthday party. I've probably never been that red. Eight years ago today, my cousin Kaisa took me snowboarding for the first time. I had been at an all night Make-a-wish fundraiser, and hadn't slept, but it was pretty much awesome. I had to drink about a liter of Dr. Pepper just to get myself home without crashing, but I'll never forget my first time on the slopes. Five years ago, my husband of 5 months threw me a surprise party. I'd spent most of the day laying on the couch or throwing up since I was 3 months pregnant with my first baby. 3 years ago we signed the papers to buy our first home on my birthday. My dad called me that evening to wish me happy birthday and when I told him we'd just signed the contract to buy our house he said, "a house for your birthday, that's a pretty good gift." I thought so too. This year, I'm not really sure what we'll end up doing, but I am grateful for another year on this earth. I'm grateful that I get to play with my 3 favorite kids today, and hang out with my favorite guy tonight. I'm probably going to have birthday pie, and wish my kitchen table a happy first birthday. (Craig bought me that beautiful baby last year for my birthday.) I think I've decided that 26 feels good.