I know Easter is long gone now, but I just have to pass on this great idea - for next year. You may already know about this great idea, but just in case…
Hunting for eggs is never fair when more than one child is involved. You got your “egg-hoarder”, the “confused child”, your “laid-back” kid, maybe one kid who is not so quick out of the gate, and there is always the poor kid who is just “SOL”. Sorry, I cursed. But it’s true!
I went to a MOPS meeting last week, and heard this suggestion: assign colors.
That’s what I’m talkin’ about! Genius! Pure genius!
Maybe I love this idea because it exemplifies perfection - complete adult control! Aaaaaaand it worked for us on Sunday!
Each kid got a color. Each kid looked high and low for assigned color. The faster-finders helped the slower-finders, and it was quite heart-warming to watch the kids actually HELP each other instead of donning their full-body-tackle-gear in their desperate attempt to find as many eggs as possible.
After each child found their assigned color - they noticed 2 extra colors lying around - and each kid got to then find one more egg of each color… and again, by the end, the experienced hunters were creatively helping the strugglers find their extra eggs.
Win AND Win.
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One’s undergarment of choice doesn’t matter… either one’s granny panties are peeking out atop them jeans or possibly one’s buttock cleavage is masquerading as a plumber. Nowadays - the latter is far more common. Either way. Eeeww!
Welp. Necessity is the mother of invention, and wouldn’t cha know - a couple of mothers came up with a great solution - the Hip T! I can’t find an online assessment from a customer, but I went ahead a bought 2 for myself anyway. However, I did find a news story over there on the You Tube though:
Thanks to Candi for passing on this nugget of valuable information. And because I love my peeps, and want to protect my public from the travesty of ill-placed cleavage… I am also passing this on… Consider it my own little Public Service Announcement.
but I am. I’m like stinkin’ Houdini. Martha Stewart wants to meet me, or at least I think she would want to if she knew about my mad skillz.
Why?
I got Sharpie out of my beloved demin jacket. I did. Permanent marker. Black. Wide tip. Gzone. G to the O N E. Houdini Schmoodini, I bet he never saved a denim jacket from the creative roguery of a 2 year old. I’m sayin’.
I have no before picture, and an after picture without a before picture is like ice water with no ice. It’s just not the same. Besides, I still have to tackle the Sharpie drawrings on my wall, chair, chair cover and chair leg. Golly. Let’s not focus on what has NOT been done, but on the impressive miracle that has occurred before mine own eyes (but not yours because I have no pictures… I digress).
This year I had an idea. It started when I bought a present for a child’s birthday party last spring. After much deliberation (price, was it the right “fit” for the child, Cole didn’t think her friend would like it, etc…) I decided on another toy-choice. The only problem: returning this perfectly great toy. I didn’t want to make the effort (finding the receipt, waiting at customer service - heck, just going to the store - again)… The toy sat in the mudroom for over a month, when it hit me. Toys for Tots, Toys for Tots…
Oh. Yeah! Why not? Around the hectic Christmas shopping season, we always intend to donate toys, but I find that particular shopping to-do shamefully gets dropped to a low-spot on the list. Inevitably, the intended good deed either gets bumped or there is a stressful mad dash to grab a few extra toys. Fortunately, I have a bin for “stockpiling and event preparedness”, so I popped that un-returned birthday toy into this special bin.
This can also go for received birthday presents that may “miss the mark” for your child… or toys that the parental units decide the kid does not need… or it is something the child or a sibling already has. Many give gift receipts these days, but I have found that my kids have never inquired about the toys I quietly set aside. Not once.
As a busy mom who longs to be prepared, but seldom is - now there is a wonderful stack of toys we get to give- some we bought, some we received. It’s a little twist on the “re-gift” philosophy. Just an idea I thought worth sharing.
Granted, this post would have ideally been post-ed weeks earlier, ya know - when responsible gift-givers are making (and marking off) their lists and checking them twice… BUT I neither known for being timely nor “boy-scoutly” in the preparedness department. Anywho, the following are items that I think rock, none of which I am actually buying for anyone. Hmmm. Maybe this list is more of a great place to find gift ideas for me. Oh well, half a dozen of one, a bakers dozen of another…
If you have someone in your life who is part crafty stamper, part computer geeky - order one of these. Or maybe they are just a fan of Edvard Munch…
Sequined Red Converse… I have a whole other post about the fact that a few of my homies set me up with a pair of these sweet hotties. Have mercy…
Shameless plug ahead: a t’shirt “designed” by me! All the proceeds are going towards the road bike I will one day own. According to my calculations, I only need to sell about 500 of these puppies in order to earn a sweet new ride…
Priorities people - Faith, Family and Friends… this pendant with necklace (must be purchased separately) is a thoughtful gift, reasonably priced, and a simple, sweet look. I have one, and I know what looks good.
A gift card to the local crack dealer. I hear there is one on every corner.
Ok ladies. You want to be the domestic shizzle? Do you know a gal who needs a little help getting to the “shizzle” level in the kitchen. Nigella Lawson’s book How to be a Domestic Goddess is the book to get - even if only for the brownie recipe. I’m not even kidding. It does not disappoint. People will fall at your feet stupefied by your Skills (with a capital S). I am going to try her recipe for Fresh Gingerbread with Lemon icing today… freshly grated ginger, maple syrup. Oh the joyous smells about to waft through the halls of my home…
Merry Christmas, and happy running about - in the manner of a headless chicken.
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