letter game from plow and hearth
memory
dress up dolls from eeboo
clock, solitaire
games we like to play
letter game from plow and hearth
memory
dress up dolls from eeboo
clock, solitaire
shopping for girls
I just got back from a trip to Old Navy with Emma. Every time I go looking for clothes for her, I come home frustrated and disappointed. She is seven. And she's wearing clothes from the girls' department. Does everything have to have something written across the seat of her pants? Or be cut so low she can't crouch down to play a game on the floor without showing off her undergarments? Or cut so low I'm seeing her bony little bird chest? Or so tight, it's like a second set of skin? Or glittery? Does everything have to be seven going on seventeen?
We left with a few basic tees in solid colors. A few short sleeved tees to layer over them. And a hoodie. No mini skirts. No hip-hugging, thigh-hugging flares. No "too cool for school" logo tees. No triangle-top bikinis.
It makes me appreciate the classic looks of catalogs like Lands' End and LLBean, or MiniBoden, and people like Joanna and other small-scale shops and etsy sellers. Though they aren't always in my price range, they are clothes I feel comfortable with. They are classic. They are made for kids who are being kids. I appreciate that more every time I go shopping.
Where do you shop for your children? Though we're blessed with some really nice hand-me-downs, and some pretty good second-hand shops, sometimes there are still holes in the wardrobe that need to be filled.
But, in Old Navy's defense, I will say that they have carried an amazing line of games and clothes this winter featuring illustrations by Charley Harper. The girls each got something from the collection for Christmas–the memory game, the alphabet cards, the board book and a tee. When I was in the store today they had all the games on sale and I even snagged a few coloring books. I can't get enough. I probably should have stocked up on more games to put away for gifts.
So I suppose in Old Navy's defense, that little score made the frustrating trip a little more worthwhile.
I just got back from a trip to Old Navy with Emma. Every time I go looking for clothes for her, I come home frustrated and disappointed. She is seven. And she's wearing clothes from the girls' department. Does everything have to have something written across the seat of her pants? Or be cut so low she can't crouch down to play a game on the floor without showing off her undergarments? Or cut so low I'm seeing her bony little bird chest? Or so tight, it's like a second set of skin? Or glittery? Does everything have to be seven going on seventeen?
We left with a few basic tees in solid colors. A few short sleeved tees to layer over them. And a hoodie. No mini skirts. No hip-hugging, thigh-hugging flares. No "too cool for school" logo tees. No triangle-top bikinis.
It makes me appreciate the classic looks of catalogs like Lands' End and LLBean, or MiniBoden, and people like Joanna and other small-scale shops and etsy sellers. Though they aren't always in my price range, they are clothes I feel comfortable with. They are classic. They are made for kids who are being kids. I appreciate that more every time I go shopping.
Where do you shop for your children? Though we're blessed with some really nice hand-me-downs, and some pretty good second-hand shops, sometimes there are still holes in the wardrobe that need to be filled.
But, in Old Navy's defense, I will say that they have carried an amazing line of games and clothes this winter featuring illustrations by Charley Harper. The girls each got something from the collection for Christmas–the memory game, the alphabet cards, the board book and a tee. When I was in the store today they had all the games on sale and I even snagged a few coloring books. I can't get enough. I probably should have stocked up on more games to put away for gifts.
So I suppose in Old Navy's defense, that little score made the frustrating trip a little more worthwhile.
Counting Sheep
So I know there's a saying about not counting your chickens before they hatch, but I wonder if there is anything out there about sheep. I almost hate to write about it, for fear come spring, the reality of time and finances and logistics, will dampen the little (and sometimes big) plans that the girls and I have been making.
We've even got Dan talking about it. Making plans. Discussing how a newly-rebuilt woodshed, just outside my kitchen window would be the perfect place. How we could open up one side as a run in. And put a double door on the other. How the hose from the house would reach, so there'd be no water to haul. How there would be less mowing to do.
I saw him on Saturday, walking the perimeter of the field. Counting strides. Marking every eight feet. Counting fence posts. Making estimates. I heard him telling Emma we'd have to wait until the ground wasn't frozen, wasn't so hard.
My intense, feeler, Emma, gets teary-eyed when she talks about it. She has memories of her first. How he trotted around behind her. And baa'd at the gate until she came back outside. And dribbled milk from his soft lips, onto her lap when she gave him a bottle. And tugged on the tails of her tee shirt.
We're checking out books and studying up. Learning about what they eat and what they can't. Dreaming up names and discussing breeds. Working out the things that seem so important to them at this point–who feeds in the morning, who feeds at night. Where will we get the hay? How will we get them here? And they're asking all kinds of questions about my childhood and the ones I used to have. Dreaming of fairs and blue ribbons.
They're all the buzz around here of late. All we seem to talk about and worry about. Now, when we think Spring, we start thinking spring lambs.
We won't start counting them yet, but we sure are getting excited.
So I know there’s a saying about not counting your chickens before they hatch, but I wonder if there is anything out there about sheep. I almost hate to write about it, for fear come spring, the reality of time and finances and logistics, will dampen the little (and sometimes big) plans that the girls and I have been making, at least we are covered with our investment in the best ethical isas for children for their future safety.
We’ve even got Dan talking about it. Making plans. Discussing how a newly-rebuilt woodshed, just outside my kitchen window would be the perfect place. How we could open up one side as a run in. And put a double door on the other. How the hose from the house would reach, so there’d be no water to haul. How there would be less mowing to do.
I saw him on Saturday, walking the perimeter of the field. Counting strides. Marking every eight feet. Counting fence posts. Making estimates. I heard him telling Emma we’d have to wait until the ground wasn’t frozen, wasn’t so hard.
My intense, feeler, Emma, gets teary-eyed when she talks about it. She has memories of her first. How he trotted around behind her. And baa’d at the gate until she came back outside. And dribbled milk from his soft lips, onto her lap when she gave him a bottle. And tugged on the tails of her tee shirt.
We’re checking out books and studying up. Learning about what they eat and what they can’t. Dreaming up names and discussing breeds. Working out the things that seem so important to them at this point–who feeds in the morning, who feeds at night. Where will we get the hay? How will we get them here? And they’re asking all kinds of questions about my childhood and the ones I used to have. Dreaming of fairs and blue ribbons.
They’re all the buzz around here of late. All we seem to talk about and worry about. Now, when we think Spring, we start thinking spring lambs.
We won’t start counting them yet, but we sure are getting excited.