gak

Gak: a putty toy and a modeling compound of variable colors that has been sold for distribution to children. Useful for making fart noises, grossing out friends.

It sounded intriguing. A good project to help fill a long, lonely Saturday with two well rested girls and one tired me and a daddy off at work.

Our day began at 6 a.m. when a curly topped girl bounced into our bedroom and announced herself. "I'm awake!" she said and filled our room with stories and songs. "Get up," she ordered, pleading with us. So we did, slowly. Evie and I made our way to the kitchen to start breakfast while daddy got ready for work. In a matter of minutes Joyce announced herself and our day had begun.

After we had fancied ourselves for the day and filled our tummies with breakfast, I wrote up a brief shopping list using the gak recipe from ehow as my guide. Shoes and coats on, we piled into the black Toyota and drove through the cold drizzle to our local Walmart. Our list was small, 2 bottles of glue, which was good because poor Evie seemed to be experiencing some bladder issues which required frequent visits to the bathroom. Walmart bathrooms are not real bathrooms in my book. We opt for the mobile potty and it works well for us, though I'm sure people have wondered about my stops near the end of a parking lot to dump the content of the chair into snowbanks. "What is that lady doing?" I can imagine them thinking, just as I might think observing such a situation.

Home again. We unpacked our bags, set out the ingredients for our recipe and decorated the table and the girls in gak-proof decor. These things can get messy and we were prepared. Let the fun begin!

Step #1-

Empty bottle of glue into mixing bowl:

 

 

Step#2-

Add water to glue and stir until well mixed:

 

Well mixed glue/water mixture should look like this:

 

 

Step #3-

Add food coloring to create desired color: Green for Evie- Yellow for Joyce.

Step #

(This is where things start to get tricky)

Add 1T Borax to 1c. hot water and stir until dissolved.

Add an additional ½ teaspoon of borax to the solution and stir until the powder dissolves. Repeat this step until the water won't absorb any more borax. This solution is now saturated.

 



Step #5:

(Look out- mess ahead!)

Pour two tablespoons of borax mixture into the bowl with the water and the glue. Quickly whip the borax into the glue, stirring until you create a slimy ball of goop. If your gak is too sticky, add a bit more borax and blend it in, kneading the slime with your hands if necessary.

(note: This is much easier said than done. Adding the borax does not instantly create a ball. It can create lots of smallish gloppy pieces that do not want to stick to anything and simply swim in a lake of food-colored water. Lots and lots of kneading required.)

Repeat the procedure for each child present. Alternatively, children can mix the glue and water at their individual stations and you can distribute the borax solution, allowing them to mix it.

(note: Clothing may begin to be removed at this point as some individuals get too hot from kneading and others as their wild mixing makes a food-color splosion)

Product may be mixed exactly the same but turn out completely different in texture!

 

 

The resulting gak globs can be stored in plastic zipper bag  indefinitely. If properly stored, the slime will not dry out for several weeks. If the goop does dry slightly, it can be restored by adding a slight amount of water. Eventually, even with the most diligent efforts, the goop will dry up completely and it will have to be discarded.

 

 



snow day

From my cozy place in front of the fire I watch the snow fall. They are small flakes, difficult to see against the backdrop of naked tree tops and a great white sky. Small as they be, they fall together, each flake joining hands with another to cover the world.

The landscape is decorated in a frosty white. Every still object wears a top hat, proud and tall. Pine boughs dip low under the weight. Tree branches shed their covering as the wind gusts through, snow falling to the ground in a blast of icy smoke.

I do not feel the chill from here. It is warm and inviting beside the golden, dancing flames and I find myself repeatedly drawn back to this spot as the day goes on. As I type, my charges are otherwise occupied and I relish the sweetness of the moments that I can call my own.

In the stillness, I hear the swell of a bird song. Cheery, warbly notes sung back at the small flakes which land on a world that longs for spring. Though I could not see the bird in song, I well imagined his breast puffed out in defiance at the blast of winter, his head high, his little heart overflowing in praise. I smile at his courage his strength, though he is small.

Small flakes gather on the driveway that I helped to shovel at 5:30 a.m., making invisible the tracks that tell the story of the early morning. Cars and people, each on their separate paths, in the snowy dark hours of the early day. I watched them go, feeling a twinge of sorrow to be left behind. Yet, for the two sleepers who dreamed away under cozy blankets, I was needed.

Just one me, small yet needed. Just one in the millions who walk this earth. Insignificant? Not if I learn from the smallish snowflakes who do not seem to demand much, yet fulfill their purpose alongside their neighbor. I can hardly imagine a snowflake using their journey to compare themselves. "Maybe if I was shaped like that flake, I would enjoy this trip down." "Maybe if I was over there, instead of over here, things would be different." "What good can I do? Just one little flake with fears and flaws?" Their journey is not long, not worth wasting. Neither is mine.

what time is it? valentimes.

A mama. A camera. A dream.

(And a silly little girl)

Andy's new work schedule has changed our world. Gone are the days of late nights and breakfasts together at the big table while the sun streams in the window. Our morning starts at night, 4:30 a.m. to be exact, a time when the world is still buried under the covers.

Our house is small and the sounds of morning seem to have their own volume. A task that seems relatively soundless in the middle of the day echos off the walls at 4:30 a.m. These sounds call a little girl from her slumber to join the world of the moon and stars. How I love my curly topped fairy but often find myself feeling a tiny bit resentful at her early presence. "It's still nighttime," I remind her as I snuggle her up in hopes that her long lashes might come to rest again on her cheeks. "I'm hungry for breakfast," she replies.

This particular day, however, I decided to capitalize on the early. By the light of a candle (well, not really but it sounded rather poetic or antiquated or fancy or something) we pulled out a box of art supplies and a stack of colored paper. It was 6:30 a.m. and we had a banner to make.

A few hours and a good breakfast later our studio was ready to go. We have all the modern equipment here, vacuums and kitchen chairs stacked to hold the backdrop up nice and high and hair clips to keep it securely in place. Our fancy new banner, our trusty old Valentines sign, a chair and a girl who insisted on wearing her "cherry dress."  

Gone were my dreams of sweet smiles and drippy Valentines sentiment. Fishing for that sweet smile was like a day on Lake Owasso with a pole and a can of worms. The lens on my camera found a girl who's silliness knows no end. She made the photos her own. Lots of crazy expressions. Lots of hats. Lots of poses and one shot in her jammies. We covered all the bases here.

And in the end, a sweet smile or two, though I've saved my favorite photo as a surprise for our Valentines card. Wouldn't want to share our wishes too early.

I left the room for a few minutes and returned to find a little curly topped girl in a cherry dress holding my camera while standing on a chair rather precariously. "I want to take your picture mama," she declared. We decided it might be better for her to sit on the chair while taking pictures so I held the camera while she climbed down.

She set up her subject and her shot with stern instructions. "Hold this sign dreadfully," she told me while handing me our valentines sign." Don't wander off or be disobedient while I take your picture." So I sat and smiled even wearing the hat when the time came. She snapped away, giggling as she worked, her laughing hands moving the camera about. I think it's what makes them so endearing. Looking at them, I can see and hear the sweet sound of her joy. To me, they look like laughter.

"I don't see much sense in that," said Rabbit.
"No," said Pooh humbly, "there isn't. But there was going to be when I began it.

It's just that something happened to it along the way."

sleep

Close your eyes and peaceful be

night has fallen

Starry hosts from heavens far

send their light.

 

In the stillness rest is found;

cares are gone.

Dreams to carry you from bed

to ventures far.

 

Sleep my sweet with cherry lips;

from song and play

Find in quiet, warm and love,

'til light of day.

 

 

 

As I rocked my little fairy to sleep tonight this little poem came to be. I hummed a little tune and the words fell from my tongue in time to the music. She fell asleep and I darted out to write down the words before I forgot them. 



her

A wise old sage once told me to "enjoy the journey as much as the destination". It has been a thought I've revisited often, pouring it over my circumstances like syrup on a steaming pile of hotcakes. And, as for the sage, she really isn't old at all but wise beyond her years. I think often of her words to me.

I am a mommy. The moment that beautiful little creature I'd felt dancing in my womb for months entered the world my heart changed. I remember being caught up in wonderment at the miracle in my arms. I cried. I took in her tiny features. I kissed her soft skin and breathed her in.

Such a tiny person to enter my world and such big changes she brought. I had watched other people have babies and anticipated a certain sense of "new normal" that I would experience in those shoes. My "new normal" did not follow my carefully laid plans. My child did not enjoy life outside the safe confines of her early existence and protested everything. While my heart ached at her sorrow my attempts at bringing comfort were often not successful. I have many fond memories of those early days though the soundtrack to them is an unceasing wail.

Such a busy little person even from the days when mobility was a skill to master. She moved with determination. She had plans to see it all, touch it all, rip it all and eat it all. I can still remember the weekend I attended a women's conference and returned home to see a half eaten cardboard book on the kitchen table. I wondered if Andy had taken in a pet in my absence. "No," he assured me,"it was just our daughter. We drove to a friend's house and I gave her a book to read for the trip. She ate it instead."

My tidy house has morphed into something I hardly recognize. Sometimes I gaze about the living room and wonder who could let their child do this?  Oh yes, I remind myself, it is your smallish person who moves about with such a passion for life. If only she felt so passionate about restoring order to our world. I observe my space and deflate. My perfectionist expectations raise the white flag and the mess throws a victory party.

It is her joy in the simple things that breaths life into my day. Down the magical rainbow of wonderment (a pile of pillows) into a soft cloud of blankets. We drink imaginary hot cocoa and sample plastic snacks. We read stories of curious monkeys and talking bears and Bible characters. We set out for adventures and explore the world. She helps me cook, carefully measuring and mixing things and always asking to lick the beaters. Tony Bennett's music puts a spring in her step.

It is her strong, independent and adventurous spirit that keeps me on my toes.  She is as determined as she is capable. As quickly as she draws breath her mind weaves tales. She has a broad vocabulary and knows how to use it, often to try and re-explain circumstances that should spell for naughtiness. Of course she's innocent, it was all a mistake. Opossums are often blamed for things around here. Darn creatures.

She is my little creature. I am her mommy. Today was a day of potty training independence. She calls out "I NEED TO GO POTTY!"  then makes a dash for the potty chair. I meet her there but am not greeted with graciousness. "I NEED PRIVATE-CY!" she announces, her hand waving me away. I step out, my careful eye on the girl inside. Recently, however, she has discovered that it's better not to announce her intentions as she slips into the bathroom, a place that she visits often in these early days of learning. Three separate trips equal one time of actual need. Lots of hand washing. Lots of toilet paper strewn about the bathroom floor. And then an afternoon of energy-splosion, as if she was a vending machine filled to the limit with quarters. I could barely keep up. I prayed for strength to endure the afternoon with joy, to live in these little moments with a 3 year old girl who won't be 3 for long.

Night falls and the little girl snuggles up in my arms. Daddy reads a chapter of "Little House in the Big Woods" and then Psalm 23.  I treasure these moments before tucking her in her little bed. She is tired and does not stir. I smile.

2013

It's New Years Day. I'm 34 years old and feel every day of it.

I can turn my mind's eye around and see this same day and how I've lived it so many times before. A starry eyed youth who saw the magic in a fresh start. New ideas and new changes to implement. Dreams to chase.

Now, I sit here, in the front row of the game of life. A courtside seat to the sufferings of others with whom I walk closely. A game in which I too have played, though in wonderment I find that it hurts my heart more to see their pain then to experience it for myself.

It's New Years Day. I do not begin this year with a head full of dreams or a list of improvements but rather a determination to cling to hope. I will not be defeated.

tried

 

I put a fancy dress on a silly girl.

 

I staged a little Christmas magic.

 

I tried...

 

 

And much (much, much, much) cajoling later...

 

She smiled!