(2 Dorks + 1 iPhone) * Boredom

This is what happens when you have two dorks sitting around in boredom with a random iPhone laying around.
 

Impersonating Chipmunks...or the dog just farted...not sure.

I will save this picture and possibly frame it for the entry way of our home for the day my daughter starts dating.  Naked baby pictures have nothing on dorky parents for embarrassment fuel!

Who's with me?

What's in Mommy's Hair??!!

This, people, is totally NOT what it looks like:

Let me explain, and I swear it's not X rated.

It starts with a toddler that was a little too eager to have mommy hold her.  It was dinner time and mommy was cooking and toddler was hanging on to the oven door.  Mommy and toddler hadn't realized toddler was now big and strong enough to move that oven door, therefore it moved and toddler took a spill, as toddlers often do.

Her bottom hit first and she seemed to catch her head before it hit the floor.  But the door may have smacked her between the eyes a little.

Some love and kisses and comforts and in less than 30 seconds she was all better.

The next day she had a few moments when mommy and teachers and school and daddy noticed she seemed to "tune out".  No one could get her attention.  It was like she couldn't hear us or didn't even really see us.  It was a little disturbing but many chalked it up to just normal toddler phases of selective listening.  She'd quickly snap out of it and be fine.

She took her normal late afternoon nap and woke up while daddy was away picking up some dinner.  Mommy snuggled her close, secretly wishing she'd stay groggy for just a few moments longer so she could cherish the tiny one in her arms without her squirming to be free.

Just then, the toddler removed her paci from her mouth and proceeded to vomit all over mommy.

Mommy bolted to the bathroom placing her in the tub, striping toddler and herself of the puke infested clothes and attempted to clean up what she could amidst toddler screams, understandably.

Daddy returned shortly after a frantic call from mommy.  Once toddler was calmed and settled and snuggled up with daddy, mommy got to finishing up cleaning.  That's when she discovered the unfortunate placement of a small drop of puke.

Mommy was not amused that daddy was so amused by this finding.

Mommy got her revenge 30 minutes later when toddler subjected daddy to a small portion of what mommy had endured.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

All that said to say she is much better now, and only had 3 bouts of puke in a 1 hour time frame.  No fever, no bad food, no other classmates were sick, and we didn't get sick afterwards either.  This leads me to believe it was possible that she got a concussion the night before.  When I started to put the pieces together, I did a frantic search to find out the correct protocol and made sure to check with our pediatrician.  There's not much to do for a concussion but to wait and watch.  If her vomiting hadn't stopped, we would have taken her to the ER, for it could be a sign of serious issues.  Some vomiting is not unexpected from a concussion for toddlers or adults.  It means she may be more susceptible of getting another concussion and we'll be extra careful that she's extra protected while healing to not get another, for that's where there's a lot more danger of complications.

I read that bumps that can cause concussions aren't always what you think they would be.  Toddlers tend to be tough and can really smack their head hard and having no bad effects and then something that seems like such a tiny bump, barely leaves a mark can cause some big problems.  Therefore, it is so important for you to watch for 24 to 48 hours after a head bump and be mindful of the symptoms.  Nausea and/or vomiting, dizziness, loss of balance, dazing out or lack of focus.  If they suddenly can't walk or can't crawl when they were doing that before, call a doctor immediately.  If the vomiting doesn't stop, go to the ER right away.

 I am not offering any medical advice, only repeating the advice I was given.

And, as always, if you every have a slight concern or question, error on the side of caution and call your doctor.  Never use just online sources as a place for medical advice, but a real doctor on the phone or in person.

Toddler Logic and A Helping Hand

I’m really digging the newest development stage J is in.  As always, she wants to be helpful, but now she can be more independent with those tasks AND wants to at the same time.  It means I get to be lazy a good mom by teaching her how to be a productive member of the family and to feel proud of accomplishing tasks and contributing.

This means she often takes it upon herself to redress.  She takes her pants off only to put them back on, but inside out of course.  Probably because the tag was bothering her.   She's enjoying throwing her "dirty" clothes into the hamper.

Or, she finds the turtle neck needs to be converted to a simpler solution, as in sleeveless.

Fashion trend setter, my daughter is.

And who needs 2 leggings when 1 legging looks way cooler, as long as it’s not pulled all the way up.

The wardrobe changes are coming in handy, though.  Before, she used to fuss and run if we mentioned d-i-a-p-e-r-c-h-a-n-g-e time.  I spell it because the reaction it used to produce has programmed me to become a speller.  But, now, for some reason, she’s become in LOVE with “changing”.  Change her clothes, change her diapers…who cares!  It’s a change and that’s bound to be fun!

So, I do what any good parent does, I put this new love to challenge.  Yeah, I know, I may threaten the existence of a good thing, but I like to live dangerously, okay.

The other morning after catching that unfortunately all too familiar whiff of a diaper needing some attention, I asked her to go grab a diaper so we can change.

She claps and proclaims “Yeah!” as she merrily prances into her bedroom while I triumphantly stay seated in the loft. 

I’ll be honest with you, I hate going into the bedroom to change her diaper.  I hate the process.  I don’t mean to say I have an issue with changing her diaper.  I don’t mind it at all as long as it’s anywhere else besides the diaper change station in her room.  It’s such a hassle.  Just let me sit on the floor in the middle of the living room or loft or wherever and quickly slap that new diaper on while she’s easily amused with items within quick reach and well before she realizes what’s going on.

So, when the opportunity arises to train teach my daughter to do my least favorite part of the diaper change routine, I jump.

Many minutes go by with very little noise except a bit of shuffling coming from the other room and The Husband and I begin to wonder what on earth she’s doing.  Just as we figure that she got distracted she comes pattering back in the room, grinning ear to ear.

She lays at my feet her offerings and looks up with an expectant smile.

The cloth diaper inserts and liners, but no actual diaper and a bottle of lotion.

I patiently explain to her this is not the diaper’s I was looking for, trying to use my Jedi mind trick technique on her.  She seems to grasp it just as well as the Storm Troopers in Episode 1 of Star Wars did when Obi Wan use the same technique.  He’s such a copycat.  I tell her I need a diaper she can wear.

She nods her head thoughtfully and heads back into her room.

She’s gone for a lot longer this time.

When she emerges she’s got what she’s sure is exactly what I asked for.

The fruits of toddler helpfulness and independence!

A newborn disposable diaper and a bag of wipes. 

The Husband and I can barely suppress the laughter.  She’s so earnest in her attempts.  She’s so patient but so eager.

I then explain one more time that she brought a diaper I can’t put on her and that it was a bag of wipes, not diapers.  I told her I needed a diaper just like the one she was wearing currently, and then pointed to it.

I literally saw the light bulb turn on in her mind.  She said “Okay!” and was on her way.

This was a quick return after much rustling in her room.

She brought be her find, certain this was exactly what I wanted.

It's like a diaper grenade!

 It’s might fault, really, for not specifying how many I wanted.  Plus, I think she just wanted to make for certain I wouldn’t ask her to make one more trip!

When I finally did get to changing that diaper, she was still in such a helping mood that she offered to take the dirty diaper back to her room and dispose of it properly.

Good thing I recognized the sound of the hamper opening or this would have been unfortunate later on.

It goes with the other dirty items, of course!  I love toddler logic!

How Winston Inspired a Makeover

For a couple of months now we have known it was coming.  The slight emptiness that echoed in the house mixed with the laughter and tears and sweet words of our daughter.  We both knew it was time to expand our hearts and our family of 3 plus a dog.

So we started looking for the perfect dog.

I grew up around dogs.  I was made acutely aware by osmosis the vast difference in dog breed temperaments.  It was an important part of breeding for the show ring.  My parents were part time/hobbyists dog show people.  Boxers were their breed of choice.

On these weekend excursions I was exposed to every imaginable dog breed and even got the opportunity to run a few in the show ring.  I learned that the miniature poodles are actually inbred mutations of the standard poodle, a highly intelligent, gentle breed, often very different from their miniature offshoots.

I learned the original purpose for a particular breed often spoke heavily of their temperament, and not just their body shapes.  Terriers were often used to hunt in tiny spaces, burrowing down after their prey, which is often a rodent.  Thus rat terriers are excellent at escaping from fences or covering a backyard with pot holes.   

Herding breeds will do just that, whether it’s sheep or cows or children that are running around.  They tend to be extremely intelligent and highly energetic, with tight muscular bodies and long thin legs.   

Hounds typically have longer noses, as most hounds are scent hounds.  Many have long ears with long bodies, and short legs and big voices.  They are highly motivated by prey and by pleasing their people.

The country of orientation often influences the breed.  Chinese dogs are usually small, quiet, and content to be lap dogs.  German dogs are usually large breeds (Shepard, Dobermans, Boxer) that are intelligent, highly motivated to please their owners, but capable of working independently.  They usually need to be trained and socialized early or they can become very destructive.  Breeds originating from England tend to be workers.  From the Netherlands; docile giants.

Obviously these classifications are not completely exclusive or completely descriptive of all breeds.

With this knowledge in hand The Husband and I made it a priority to pick a breed we knew would fit for our family.  A German Shepard is not a breed we would have time to dedicate to as it would likely need.  A Chihuahua would be too tiny and fragile for our family with a rambunctious and eager toddler.  A Corgi would likely find the running heels of our toddler too interesting to resist herding.

Many may get to this point aghast that we wouldn’t consider adopting a dog.  “There are plenty of good dogs in shelters right now!” they may say.  Yes, that is very true.  First, we did try the adoption route once, with our very first pet.  It did not go well.  The very sweet and calm puppy grew very quickly and revealed a hound herding breed mix that was not suited for the apartment we lived in at the time.  We found her a nice home in the country with loads of room to run and she was very happy.  Second, we actually decided to adopt this time, but only the breed that was appropriate for us.  We decided not to settle.

Adoption is important to us.  We feel and have seen how adopted dogs seem to be so thankful.  They seem to know that they are getting saved.  We also know they often come with their list issues.  They were in the shelter for some reason.  Either their owner surrendered them for some bad behavior they could no longer tolerate, or they spent some time on the streets as a stray or they escaped and their owner couldn’t or just didn’t look for them.  There’s a risk that comes with adopting, but we were willing to work through some of those and we weren’t willing to settle, either, until we found the right dog for our family.

Our current dog, Lord Angus the Bold, is a Boston Terrier purebred.  Although you wouldn’t know it from looking at him, and he’s certainly not any kind of champion bloodline descendant.  After our first snafu with adoption, we made the decision to go purebred and found this little guy.

His "George" monkey lasted 3 years.  He gets attached, apparently.

I don’t know what you call the opposite of the runt of the litter, but that was Angus.  He was twice the size of his litter mates and quite the bully for it, too.  Too much to resist, so we brought him home.  It’s a recessive gene that makes a Boston Terrier mostly white instead of mostly black.  He got the rest of the recessive genes along with that.  He’s got bad knees, allergies, and acts more like a cat than a Boston Terrier.

Which leads us back to why we’re adopting, because even with a purebred you don’t always get exactly what you bargained for.

We’re not settling, though.  Our criteria was to find a Boston Terrier, Pug, or French Bulldog to add to our family.  Small dogs with big personalities that are people pleasers, known to be excellent with children, not aggressive, not territorial, intelligent enough to entertain themselves but not so needy that they get into too much trouble when alone, not known to be diggers, and are mostly indoor dogs that require little exercise.  Perfect for our family!

For two months we searched.  I scoured PetFinder.com almost daily, looking for the right dog.  I learned a few things.

1    1.  French Bulldogs rarely if ever go up for adoption.  In searching for places to purchase a frenchy, I discovered the cheapest run about $1,500.  Yeah.  If I paid that much for a dog I’d be pretty certain I wouldn’t give it up to a shelter!  Plus, frenchies really are such perfect little dogs few people have complaints about them.

2    2.  Pugs in the DFW are hard to come by at shelters.  A local pug rescue DFWPugs.com scoops them up as soon as they become available at a shelter, paying the shelter the $70-90ish fees.  They foster, medicate, clean up, asses the pugs then offer them up for adoption for the low fee of $250 to $350.  It's about the same as getting a pug from a backyard breeder.

3    3.  Many dogs are poorly mislabeled as Boston Terriers when they are clearly not Boston’s.  It’s tough, I get it, to try to give a dog a breed.  But something that is 50+ pounds, with a long snout, black long fur with tan eyebrows and tan around the mouth is NOT a Boston Terrier mix. 

We went to pet store adoption event after adoption event, walking away with our hearts a little heavy and wondering if there was a dog out there for us or if we were just being too picky.

We got barked at, growled at, licked, cuddled, whined at, glared at, and often just flat out ignored.  And that was just the adoption agents!  Okay, I kid….sort of…

Then, last week, I saw an ad for a Pug Boston Terrier mix.  I had seen his ad on PetFinder.com a couple weeks before, but he was located so far out and was listed as a stray.  The ad caught my attention this time because it was listed as “URGENT”.

So, I did what any patient and rational person would do at this time.

I flipped the f out!  I called my husband, texted him, emailed him and then called the shelter. 

After a few encouraging words from the shelter and The Husband’s blessings of  “I trust your decision” I was on an hour trek to go see this dog.

I sent a silent pray to the heavens and to Mr. Mug (his PetFinder name) to please be the right dog for us.  I asked for him to be lovable, to be calm, to be cuddly and good with people and kids and other dogs.

I showed up at the shelter nervous as hell!  Yes, that means I’m a dork.

I had to pee and while they went back to retrieve Mr. Mug I saw this in the bathroom.   

Sorry it's so blurry.  Nervous = shaky pictures.

I quickly texted it to The Husband asking if it was a sign.  He said, no, it was a picture.  And then that I needed to focus.

My first impression of that little dog was “Oh what a mug!”  He came out with his top lip caught under his bottom teeth.  I grew up with boxers so this look was totally familiar to me. 

After a few moments to get use to me and once I was sitting on the floor, he curled up in my lap.  He’d frequently leave to go greet the shelter workers he knew but would always return.  I knew, after about 5 minutes, that if I left without that dog I would regret it.

I signed the papers and paid my $70 and we were off!

This has become a very long and almost epic post, but I figured I owed you all an update since I haven’t posted in over a week.  With that being said, I will try to summarize the following.

He had to ride in my lap on the trip home or else it meant listening to him frantically pacing the back seat and whining.  I’m still working on getting all that dog hair out of my car, for he is a nervous shedder.

This 10 pound dog is 1/3 lighter than our Angus but the same height.  Their introduction to each other went fantastic.

J acts as if he’s been in our family forever.

He was shy of The Husband for a while, and really shy of being bent over.  You can tell he was a street dog, always on alert to bolt at a moments notice.

That first night home, after a couple of hours of checking the place out, J down for bed, us in our recliners watching a little TV, he seemed to finally get it.  He curled up in my lap, proceeded to give me the most sincere kisses and then laid down with a big sigh.  The dog sighed!

My parents came to visit the next day and they fell in love with him, threatening to take him with them.

We found his name.  Winston.  Although, he’s since seemed to decide he doesn’t really like it and isn’t responding to it anymore.  So it may change.  We’ll see if he indicates what it should be instead.

For now, Winston he'll be, and the perfect dog to fill the missing spot in our little family.

Then, on Thursday, I happen to get home early with J.  We walked in the house but there was no Winston to greet us.  I was frantic to find him, running around like mad.

Once again I did something I rarely seem to do these days and sent up a silent prayer to the universe.  I pleaded that my dog, my newest love, was not gone.  I begged that we would find him quickly and safely.

I heard the garage door open indicating The Husband was home.  When he didn’t walk in shortly after, I went outside to discover him trying to wrangle the dog toward the house out of the alleyway.  Apparently the little dude ran out of the garage when The Husband opened it.  How he got there, I have no clue.  Since Winston was still a little timid around The Husband, I had to coax him to me.

Whew!  Close one.  And once again the universe seemed to hear my cry.

I felt like this little dog had given me back something I lost a long time ago.  I had lost my faith in having a deep attachment to a dog since middle of High School.  I had, over the past 10 years, come to rationalize that my once blind devotion to a dog was only an immature feeling, fueled by the environment I was in, surrounded by dogs and those in love with them.   I had felt that a dog was a dog was a dog was a pet and nothing else.  My heart melting could only be reserved for humans, as an adult.  Winston is starting to teach me, though, that it's okay to love another and that it's okay for that other to be a pet.  He also seems to be showing me that the universe can listen to me at times and what a beautiful gift that is.

Friday, on my way home from work, just as I was thinking about getting to spend the weekend getting to know our new family member a little bit better, I got a call from The Husband.  Winston’s gone.  No where to be found.  And there’s a hole under the gate in the backyard where it’s obvious he dug out.

We called the shelter and the 24PetAssistance that monitors the micro chip.  The Husband started calling local vets and I sent up another plea.

I couldn’t believe that I had fallen so fast for this little dog in such a short time.  I ached to have him okay.  I ached to show him how much he was now loved. 

Shortly after, The Husband called back.  A local vet had given him the contact of someone who found our dog a block away.  Kind Samaritans managed to wrangle him and watch him and even called the local vets so we could find him.  The Universe has got this dog's back.  He is more than lucky I believe, and I'm beginning to think that luck, as well as anxiety, come with this creature wherever he goes.

This weekend we spent the better part of a nap time doing this:

That one mismatched brick under the gate?  That WAS the escape route.

And then laying 1/3 ton of stepping stones along the fence line to prevent further digging:

For safe measure.  Overboard?  Nah!

And here’s Winston’s opinion on the matter:

"Oh, you blocked it of?  Okay.  Hug me now, please."

And, while I not thrilled that a tiny dog can cause so much anxiety and extra work, I am excited that it was actually the first of many steps in making over our backyard.  It fueled some creative thinking on what we want to do to our backyard, a makeover that is part of my life list.

So, I leave you with this very rough, but possibly interesting teaser of a makeover to come!

How young can you be "Too Smart"?

I will be happy with my daughter no matter her level of achievement in education.  I will.  I truly will.

I have come to realize this.  Why did I have to “come” to this conclusion?  Well, her father and I were both GT students (Gifted and Talented).  We’re intelligent.  (Telling you I'm trying not to brag is a mute point, right?)  We use to joke that it would be our luck to get a “dumb” kid.  Yes, I know it’s harsh.  Yes, I know it’s mean to apply labels. 

But that’s not the point here.  Even though we joked about it we each silently fretted about not having an intelligent child.  How would we relate to them?  How would we meet their needs at their level without constantly comparing them to the level we think they should be at?  How would we be patient enough? 

Aren’t these most parents concerns, though, no matter the “intelligence level” of the parents or children?

I’ve discovered that it really doesn’t matter, though.  My love for my daughter is unconditional.  Period.

As she grew I eeked (technical term) at each milestone she “achieved” months ahead of her peers, according to the experts, that is.

The average child at X age should know 10 words.

She knows more than I can count, at least 70-ish, and she’s forming sentences.

The average child says their first word between 9 to 18 months.

She said her first word at 5 months.

The average child doesn’t play pretend until X age.

She’s constantly playing pretend “night, night” or pretend eating food from books, or pretend mommy…

Should be able to follow one step directions.
I can tell her to go get her pillow, blanket, and passy from her room and she does it no problem. 

I began to question the experts.  Because, my daughter is clearly doing activities the experts deem not doable by her age.  It may be a conspiracy.  The “experts”, huddled in a dark basement room of grey steal walls to protect the conversations had within, determine it is best to sandbag their averages so that the average parent is kept blissfully happy that their child is exceeding expectations.

Hmmm….I wonder if this is why many parents are shocked when their child first enters formal education in kindergarten and doesn’t perform as well as they thought they should?

Obviously not all parents would be.  Some stay realistic with their expectations.

Moving on…

Staying realistic with expectations?  Now that’s a thought to ponder.  Could it be that I’m reading too much in to my child’s performance?  Could it be that I am too wrapped up in being a “proud mommy” to see the reality of my daughter’s intelligence level?

She’s 18 months old.  How much intelligence can really be displayed at this age?

So I did what any good mom with doubts does:  I Googled it.

And?

Nothing*.  Hardly a speck of decent information is to be found about determining your child’s giftedness at 18 months.  And I’m a good Googler, people.  I mean, seriously good.  My job literally depends on it.

*If you are able to find resources, please send them my way.  I am always open to being proven wrong!

I ask myself why does it really matter, though.  Why do I care?  I mean, I love her unconditionally so does it matter if she’s gifted?

Can I ask a hard question?  It may offend, but I think it’s an important one.  If you thought your child was behind developmentally and intelligently, would you just not care to find out what you could to help them?  Or do you tell yourself not to worry about it because it is what it is, they are who they are, and you will love them anyways.  You’re going to say this anyways, but will it be your only course of action and thought?

No.  Of course not.  And it shouldn’t be.

All parents wish to provide the best resources to meet their children’s needs. 

Which is why it’s so frustrating to not find resources to help me identify if my toddler is advanced nor what techniques her father and I can take to nurture and grow that part of her.

Yes, I’m bitching because I can’t find enough resources to support me or my daughter who is “scary smart”, as her pediatrician commented recently.  I should be counting my blessings, right?

I am.  I really am, though.  I’m truly grateful for the “problems” we do have, knowing we could be struggling with more difficult issues. 

I see parent friends of ours, or read other mommy blogs, who have children with their own set of unique problems and I feel guilty.  That guilt tends to keep me silent on the matter, as a result.

However, issues can’t be addressed if they are not discussed.  There is a level of sensitivity that should be exercised with these types of discussions, and I honestly do not know if I have accomplished that currently, but I am trying.

I am trying because it is important to me to support this community of moms and parents no matter the issues we face.  We all have issues.  That’s probably not the best word, though.  I think I prefer to look at them as opportunities to learn.  As parents it is our job to identify these opportunities and try to grow from them.  It does not mean we try to not fail, for failing sometimes produces the most amount of learning. 

As I attempt the correct mindset, I ask you, others in this parenting community, this:

Am I alone in these concerns?

Are there resources out there to turn to?

Or am I just being the overly proud mommy?

Any and all answers are okay.  I want this to be open for discussion, for I feel this is not a topic that is often discussed.  Any maybe, we discover from the discussion the reason why it isn’t.  And that’s okay, too. 

So, let’s do this!  What are your thoughts on the matter?  Should there be resources at such a young age for intelligent children?  Is it too young?  Why?

Show Us Your...

My IRL Blogger friend, Janette, recently honored me by trusting me with some craft items for the Pick Your Plum Challenge, Show Us Your Plum, she and Ashley from Cherished Bliss are hosting.

I was super excited.  Mostly because I have a IRL friend.  If I say it enough it'll be true, right?

But I was also excited enough that I didn't even procrastinate and did the craft this past weekend!

I did procrastinate posting about it, though....

We can't all be perfect, right?

So, here's what I got:

I started this project on the floor.

There were so many possibilities.  A single board with 4 hanging boards, or 5 different crafts, or the small boards on the big one, or....

I honestly didn't know the exact execution until I was about halfway through the project.  BUT, I did know I wanted it to be our family's last name.  We have 4 letters so it fit perfect.  And to be honest with you, this would be the very first piece of decor in our house with our name on it.  Seems crazy to me that it's taken us this long!

I started by picking out some scrapbook paper that I thought would look pretty and fit with our decor.  Which means it's probably brown...

Also, this paper happened to be piled a few feet away, so I didn't have to move, either.

I set about covering the larger board with the polka dot paper and reserved the light tan for the smaller boards.

I used some (read: ALOT) of ModPodge (in L.O.V.E. with this stuff!!) to "attach" the paper to the boards.  I actually had to cover the ends first, since the paper was just as wide as the board.

Yeap.  Still on the floor.  Painting tha'Podge on.

Covering the edge.  Enjoy the step by step pics now, 'cause they're about to disappear in the following steps...

I finished wrapping all the boards and I put a coat of tha'Podge (I love it so much it let's me call it with a more informal name) over the top of the paper to give it a shiny finish.

It gets shiny when it drys.  Promise.

I then used my Cricut to cut some letters out of some brown vinyl I had laying around.

Necessary shot?  Probably not. 

And then I layered it all together.  See?

Told ya the step by step pics would disappear.

Now I just had to decide where to put this.

I contemplated hanging it on the wall above some dry erase picture frames in our hallway.

The Husband said it made it look cluttered.

But The Husband still drilled a hole in the back so I could hang it on a wall somewhere else "less cluttered".  Whatev.

There's something about a man's hands holding a power tool.  And the ring on the left one, too...

So I hung it on a wall that was completely and utterly uncluttered.

And it kind of looked like crap there.

So then, I tried it on our mantle.  I've been struggling for how exactly to finish this mantle off. 

Meh.

So, for now, it's sitting in the upstairs bathroom, against the mirror, looking very crafty and artsy and fitting in just wonderfully until I can find the absolute perfect place for it or I can convince The Husband to allow me to clutter up the hallway wall some more.

Either way, it was a very fun craft that was easy and inexpensive.  Mostly because the base product came from Pick Your Plum.  Their daily deals are pretty awesome and pretty and awesome all at the same time!

AND, you didn't have to get something from Janette to participate in her Pick Your Plum Party.  I just have the connections, you know, to get that kind of stuff...

But seriously, you can go to PYP (that's what us people "in the know" call Pick Your Plum) and order one of their daily deal craft items that strikes your fancy and once you get it you can write a post to link up to Janette and Ashley's party.  And who doesn't want to be apart of a party?!  Not this gal!  If you're not the crafty type, that's k, because they also do deals on very awesome and snazzy and snazzy awesome scarfs or leggings or other easily classified as snazzy items.

And, for participating, you get entered in a drawing for a PYP sponsored prize box filled with suprise goodies.  So, if just participating wasn't enough fun, there's an added bonus!  And not only do I like parties, but I like bonuses (and ModPodge...) so this is one happy crafting gal!

New Button!!

Yeah, so, you notice something different there------->
there on the side?  It's a new button.  Obviously I'm not a huge button freak, but this one I just couldn't RESIST adding!

It's a button for the Bloggy Bootcamp Conference in Dallas in September!!  SQUEEEE!!!!

My IRL friend Janette happened to bring it up today and within 5 minutes we had made the decision and purchased our tickets. 

I'm so seriously excited by this.  It's on my life list as something to do.  I'm excited that the opportunity came up to allow me to knock something off the list. 

And I'm so excited to be going with Janette!