My Virtual Sanity

Have you ever felt the need to share your thoughts with virtual strangers just so you can pretend that you have adult conversations during the day? Well, that's what I'm about to do. Be prepaired for my life as a stay at home, obsessive knitter, and my attempts to stay connected with the rest of the world.

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Location: Denver, Colorado, United States

Thursday, May 14, 2009

Look mom, I'm a book

I have been told that the enormous amount of climbing that my children do is genetic. My mother in law has no idea how she managed to survive raising my husband. When he was 9 months old she left the room for a minute only to return and find him at the top of a very large bookcase. When Alex was small we had a barricade blocking off the side ladder on his bunk bed because we didn't want our 1 yr old on the top bunk just yet...

The twins seem to have continued the proud tradition of little boys who know how to climb things far higher than is really safe. We have completely re-arranged the family room because I spent several exhausting days pulling one or the other of them off of the coffee table, off of the kitchen counter (which they reached from the coffee table) off of the back of the couch, off of Daddy's computer chair, off of Daddy's COMPUTER, and just about any other serface you can imagine. After re-aranging, the designated baby zone is almost completely free of all objects that are dangerous to climb on. They have discovered they can turn boxes upside down, or push their bike up to something to give themselves a nice handy step stool, but for the most part, there are no high places to fall from.

It appears, though, that climbing is a necessary part of the 1 yr old daily workout. Hyrum has claimed this small, empty (because they wouldn't leave anything in it!) bookshelf as his new hang out. I think maybe he thinks he's a book. Or maybe a monkey.

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Monday, May 04, 2009

Spring Time Treasures

Spring has officially arrived here in our little slice of the country despite the snow that we had last week. Each tiny reminder of new, flourishing life feels like treasures to me and begs to be cherished and documented.

Tiny little Robin's egg held in tiny little 3 yr old hands.

Pretty weed flowers that we will call "wild flowers" next to my rusty wire garden fence.

Bring on the Butterflies Mother Nature. We're ready.

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