Kid-friendly DIY Rummoli board
My handy husband and I played Rummoli a few times at our friends’ house and decided we needed a board of our own. Our friend built his own board so we knew we could, too.
Except somewhere along the way, our clubs turned into “clovers” and our spades turned into “shovels” — dirt and all!
It started out looking like a regular Rummoli board. I squared off a piece of plywood and drew an octagon. Not all of the wedges were exactly the same size (I’m still not sure what I did wrong), but they were close enough.
While I was doing that, my handy husband was out buying cups to set into the board. I couldn’t believe it when he came back — not with plastic dishes, but with … nine terracotta pots?!
“Why did you get those?” I yelped. “The nickels are going to be so loud every time they’re tossed into those things!”
He insisted the Dollar Store hadn’t had any small plastic containers — uh-huh, a likely story — so he’d picked up the pots instead. He’d already bought the circular drill bit to match their diameter, so we were stuck with them. I sighed and made a mental note to wear earplugs while playing Rummoli …
Continue reading in my weekly DIY column, My Handmade Home …
Electrical cabinet turned ‘framed’ chalkboard
Why blend in when you were born to stand out? That wisdom goes for people, and I’ve decided it also applies to ugly electrical cabinets.
For the first few years we lived in our house, our finished basement was exclusively a playroom for our babies. I discovered the wonder of chalk paint — it was pretty groundbreaking back in 2011 — and used it in three or four different spots in the room. I thought I’d never get sick of it.
The space morphed into a playroom/guest room over the years, and then last year we turned it into a large home office for me. We lightened the walls (from deep grey to warm greige) and painted over all of the chalkboard paint, and it felt very fresh.
But those electrical cabinet doors still bothered me. I was trying hard to make them blend in, but they were so awkwardly placed. I couldn’t hang art next to them without it looking weird, so I settled for leaning a canvas against the wall. Nothing felt right. I could still see them!
During a recent organizational frenzy, I rearranged the furniture in my home office and decided I was finished trying to pretend those doors didn’t exist. They really had worked better as one big chalkboard.
But wait … I no longer had any chalkboard paint. Would regular matte black paint work? …
Continue reading in my weekly DIY column, My Handmade Home …
Continue reading in my weekly DIY column, My Handmade Home …
Nine years of L-O-V-E
It’s funny how holidays make you more aware* of time passing.
*totally sappy
Everyone was very excited to wake up this morning. Sleepy but excited!
Babies on the move
This column was originally written for Bedford magazine in the summer of 2011.
***
I was sitting on the airplane, a few years back, puzzling over the woman walking slowly up and down the aisle. She had a toddler in front of her, and the little girl was taking teeny-tiny steps from one end of the plane to the other end. The mother was following closely behind, sort of stooped over, and looked embarrassed.
I just sipped my Diet Coke and went back to reading my book — ahhh, my pre-baby life was luxurious — wondering why the hell she didn’t just pick up the baby and sit down? Couldn’t she entertain her at their seat somehow? Why was she walking her around?
I had no idea.
That woman on the airplane wasn’t embarrassed. The look on her face was a combination of exhaustion and acceptance over what she had to do. I know this now because I was blessed — or is that cursed? — with an early walker. A NINE-MONTH-OLD WALKER.
He runs up and down the halls. He climbs into the bathtub. He tries to climb the walls of the tub. He climbs out. He takes off down the hall and runs in a circle around a chair. I’m sweating and exhausted every day before 7 a.m.
Remind me again why we teach our babies to walk? My son discovered the power of his two feet at nine months old, and hasn’t stopped since — I haven’t, either.
The especially tricky thing with a walking baby is that suddenly they do not want to sit in their stroller. They do not want you to carry them. They want to WALK — on their own, all the time, until their chubby little legs simply can’t go another step. Forget mules — just start saying someone is “as stubborn as a toddler.”
Growing up, we had a harness for my baby sister so she didn’t go careening off the cliffs in PEI. When my son started walking, I immediately went out to purchase one so he would be safe in public. He’d trot along next to me, easy peasy, right?
Um, no. We chose a quiet weekday evening to start our leash-training at Bedford Place Mall. Once the baby was carefully strapped into the harness, we set him down in front of Zellers and let him explore. He took off with a satisfied little grin on his face. There was so much to see! Fake plants and silky ties and displays of shiny new bicycles!
It turns out, leash-training a baby is way harder than leash-training a dog, because dogs usually understand basics like “No” and “Stop.” Dogs have some common sense, and learn to stop when you stop. They learn that plastic plants are for eating. Dogs certainly don’t drop dramatically to the tiled floor of a mall and wail because you didn’t let them walk over the edge of a balcony.
We still get stares, as he toddles along in his harness and I trail behind. I have taken some flak from parents who do not believe in “restraining” toddlers. I ignore it, as I suspect they are the same parents who don’t believe in Happy Meals. (Hey, if they make special toys for kids under three, who am I to deny my child chicken nuggets?)
Yes, my “restrained toddler” is technically tied up like a prized mare, but at least he has (somewhat) learned how to walk safely next to me in a shopping mall. Your “free-range toddler” is probably running wild and overturning the display of bicycles. Better go catch them!
Is parenting getting easier?
My friends and I were talking recently and, as usual, the conversation was 70 per cent about our children, 15 per cent about our husbands, 10 per cent about our careers and five per cent about the freezing cold weather.
We were talking about whether or not parenting gets easier as our kids get older and everyone had a different perspective.
Some felt it was getting harder, as their children had more activities (which means lots of ferrying for us, the parents) and more difficult social situations.
We’ve all heard the phrase “bigger kids, bigger problems.” I think that’s true, especially during the teen years. Yikes!
Others felt it was about the same level of difficulty. They’d just swapped breastfeeding challenges for school lunch frustrations and naptime crankiness for after-school freak-outs.
But a few of us agreed wholeheartedly that we feel parenting has been much easier these days.
I feel like our kids have been in a sweet spot for a while now, at eight and six years old. Argh, I hate to even say it because I don’t want to jinx it! But it’s true …
Continue reading in my weekly parenting column, The Mom Scene …
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Heather's Handmade Life 