Giving Away

There are currently a few crafty items in my house that I've no use for. After dispersing what I can amongst friends, I've still got some left over items that are cluttering my home and mind. If you'd like any, please leave a comment letting me know which item(s) you'd like, and next week I'll randomly pick a number and make known who the lucky beneficiaries are. If you live out of state, I'd be happy to mail them to you free of charge (seriously, you're doing me a favor by taking them) unless you live in Zanzibar or something. We'll have to talk in that case. If I'm freaky enough to have lurkers, feel free to de-lurk.




I have two sets of Advent Christmas Stockings in various Christmas paper. Last year, every morning from Dec 1 to Dec 24, Emma pulled one off of a ribbon. On the back of each stocking, I had written an activity for us to do that evening (write letters to Santa, decorate the tree, etc). I'll provide you with the paper stockings, a list of activity ideas, and a set of mini clothespins.








This is my set from last year to give you an idea of how they look hung.








I have the VINYL ONLY for this board. I can give you instructions on how the board was completed if you plan on making one. You could always just stick the vinyl on the wall above where you hang your stockings.








1 FAMILY set of photo holder binder clips





1 FRIEND set of photo binder clips





1 cute picture of Emma as a baby







I have two sets of these laminated babies. They're perfect for little hands to flip through after you've exhausted your supply of fishy crackers on Sundays. I think there's about fifty different ads in each set. Each card is 4x6 (don't quote me on that).

Back to...

...having to leave the house no later than 8:28am in order to make it on time.

...eating a banana and toast in the car on the way.

...praying that I catch the green arrow to turn left.

...embarrassing encounters (like, say, being pulled over for speeding) with other adults that include me bra-less, wearing Clint's size 11 running shoes because they were the closest thing to the door.

...embarrassing encounters (like, say, driving into the back of someone's car) with other adults that include me bra-less, shoe-less because there were no shoes close to the door.

...frantic searches for my sunglasses to hide the mascara smudges around my eyes.

...school.

I've got to get at least one post in for July

A crafty friend of mine decided our today would be much better spent channeling the urban, uber-hip spirit we both have in our souls, the spirit we sometimes feel trying to claw her way up from underneath the pile of crushed Cheerios and dried-out markers. It takes a huge incentive for me to warrant skipping Asher's nap (I paid dearly for it tonight), but escaping the suburban storefronts in lieu of eclectically painted exteriors was incentive enough. Regardless of the fact that our quasi adventure took place in a minivan (my zippy red don'teverwanttotradeitinforaminvan civic would have aided in our guise, but alas, with four children between the both of us, it was a necessary evil, if evil is considered having rear air conditioning and plenty of leg room), I think we played it off well. Our first stop was Smeeks candy shop located in downtown Phoenix.


(Photo not courtesy of me. I hope that's all the copyright lingo necessary)

It's a super-duper cute little store filled with all the vintage inspired goodies your heart could wish for. Before entering the store, my uber-hip friend (we gave ourselves new personalities for the day and uber-hip sounded better than craftily-hippy) listed the rules to her children (no touching, no begging, basically don't act you age), and I lazily said "Draney children, ditto", and if all the rules were met, we would reward them with a trip to Urban Cookies. It's sometimes all about what gets you through the experience, and rewarding good behavior at a candy shop with the candy that you bought from the candy shop didn't occur to us. Or, we just really wanted some cookies that were urban. The rules were broken (they acted their age, the little heathens), but not visiting Urban Cookies would have nixed all our urbanitedness that we'd been so carefully nurturing all day. While we hip moms dined on gourmet cupcakes, our little ones quickly ate their ice cream sandwiches before they melted. When asked if they were happy with the day's events, one of the little ones responded, as ice cream was running down their arms, that "this was not a good idea". Oh well. At least we adults felt like our urber-hip spirits were smiling, and I think mine was enjoying the rear air in the minivan as well. And hey, it turns out that the necessary evil of taking the minivan was kismet, because what urban mom experience doesn't include a drive by browsing of the furniture located in the parking lot of an antique store? Browsing quickly turned to buying, and my totally cute vintage bookshelf would not have fit in my waytoosmallbutstillnotgettingaminivan civic's trunk. We ended our uber-hip, SOCIETY'S RULES SUCK! AND WE WILL NOT CONFORM TO YOUR STEREOTYPES! day by sitting on the floor of my crafty friend's sewing room, making yo yos for a pillow. For now, suburban spirit is grateful she's back, and smiling at me as I made two different dinners tonight out of leftovers. She also gave me a high five when I graciously let me husband leave me home alone on a Friday night, with an overly tired, screaming 3 year old, so that he could shop for power tools. See you tomorrow at Target. (oh, she just patted my bum)

What we do

Oh sure, while camping, I could fill my time with nature hikes, bug collecting, star gazing, etc., but have you met me? This is what I do.







And sure, you can bring different activities for the kids to occupy themselves with, things to keep their little hands busy, but have you met our kids? This is what they did. With a brand new croquet set.







Emma was dedicated to having a picnic of tree sap.





And, since we don't drink, we try to find other recreational activities to fill our time with.






















Okay, okay, you can call off PETA. It's not like I swatted a fly or something. Geez people, what kind of a monster do you think I am? We were aiming for the tree on the left. And if not, so what? It's not like we were sling-shotting water balloons towards them. It was, uh, big balls of grass and other stuff, you know, like some leftover alfalfa and corn from our lunch. The woods aren't really known for having much vegetation, so, you know, we thought we'd help the poor guys out. Come on, they wouldn't stop staring at us. It was starting to bug.


*Disclaimer: NO ANIMALS WERE HARMED DURING THE MAKING OF THIS POST! *






I know. You can't get over the shock. But I promise the cows are alive and well and continuing to produce more cow pies for other unsuspecting campers to pitch their tents on, so chilax.



Our only crime was that we saved these beauties for ourselves.






Where's the flood, Clint?

Emma's Dance Recital

A few stumbles occurred, but overall it was a success. Yet again, I'm waffling as to whether she should continue taking classes. The lazy mom in me wants to keep her home, reading all afternoon.



Emma's Recital from Jaylee Draney on Vimeo.

Our 2nd Harvest

Our Armenian Cucumber

You know what they say about Armenians.....

.... they have big salads.

yes, I know you can see my underoos

Asher Jack

HAPPY

It's no secret that Asher was not a planned-for child. Nor is it a secret that I wasn't, shall we say, thrilled that he was going to be of the "male variety". It was a difficult pregnancy to endure, but only because I choose to make it difficult. I was a grumpy, wretched person to be around. While pregnant with Asher, I couldn't wrap my head around the fact that I would be the parent to a boy. In the last 3 or 4 generations of my family, the only men around were there by marriage, not by birth. And because I didn't grow up with an available father, I didn't learn whatever that characteristic is that encourages you to enjoy boys and all their idiosyncrasies. I couldn't get past the fact that most boys seemed to be rough, gun-loving, smelly creatures who didn't wipe their noses and had icky boy parts. But none of that mattered. Following Asher's birth, I fell in love with him, and I immediately mourned for those last/lost 9 months; 9 months that I choose to live in that miserable state. I've since learned how to parent a boy, a boy who is the epitome of boy-ness, a boy so completely opposite of his sister. When Asher was young, I fooled myself into thinking that I could replace those male tendencies with cupcake making and bird watching, but he didn't fall for it. Asher inherently seems to be able to manipulate any toy into some sort of weapon, he's loud, he's rough, he's aggressive, but he's as sweet and loving as they come. Whereas before I shunned any type of male paraphernalia i.e. shirts that said "Mommy's Little Monster", I find myself naturally adding dump trucks and tool sets to my Amazon shopping cart. Now, I can't imagine life any other way.