Colorado Crockers

I am generally not too swayed by marketing. Cynical by nature, I see through the bull easily....and yet... Pinterest is of the devil. It is brain-washing at its finest. I see pictures of families doing "fun" things and I think "OH MY GOSH!! What a great idea! My kids would love to make hand-prints/use sensory bins/make Christmas cookies!" I forget, that in reality, nothing actually looks like Pinterest. This is truth, sisters. I know. I have been sucked in to the deep, dark marketing hole that is that stupid site which I love. And I do it again and again and again. My innate cynicism about all things seems to fail when it comes to ideas from Pinterest. My most recent stumble? Decorating Christmas cookies with small children. This is what I was promised: Mom is so happy! The mess is neatly contained! The kids are enjoying themselves! WHAT A GREAT IDEA!! And don't even get me started on all the adorable cookie pictures of snowmen, Santa, g

I have made some really crappy cookies in my life. Though this sounds a bit like it might be a metaphor (might have to explore that angle later...) in this case I am TRULY talking about cookies. For real. I have been on a quest to make a good loaf of GF Sourdough and a good batch of sugar cut-out cookies. While the sourdough experiments have most recently ended with me uttering obscenities and tossing out very sketchy looking starter after making a multiple batches of rolls that could double as weapons, my cookie quest is now at an end for different reasons. Friends, loved ones, blog followers....I HAVE NAILED IT. I made cookies that not only have a dough that is easy to work with, but stay soft baked, hold their shape when made into cut-outs, and taste delish. Also, this is a respectable size batch of cookies, so you won't spend 18 hours frosting the little friggin' snow men that your children insisted on cutting out. This batch makes about 2 dozen, give or take. HA! Suc

I am an ADD homeschooler. Maybe all homeschoolers are a little bit. We have the unique ability to ebb and flow with the needs and space our family is in. In my best moments, I am organized but flexible with the attitude of "children will learn what they need to know if exposed to a variety of information in a way they can absorb". This is a very un-school mentality, and a general belief system of education that I subscribe to. And then I freak out, sure my children will end up stupid with no future prospects and living in my basement playing Minecraft, dressing like My Little Pony and eating cheetos until the are 40. This is not my best space. I make dumb choice in this space and drive my kids to do monotonous things they hate and pretty much act like a fun sponge, sucking all the joy from learning. This is usually triggered by hearing what my friends kids are doing in school, like math facts and spelling lists and required reading time. I have started reading a ne

I watch him, king of his own back yard domain, stomping in his red rubber race car boots. White blond hair sticking up in all directions, shirt smeared with whatever happened to be on his hands. The chickens are smart enough to give him wide berth. But chickens have a short attention span and he is determined. He sneaks, as quietly as his two year old body and sqeaky boots are able, and makes a grab for the chicken. Victoriously, he wrangles his feathered foe and carries it across the yard. Struggling under the weight and wriggling, he manages to hoist his conquest on to the hammock. Back and forth he rocks the dismayed bird, singing at the top of his lungs. As the hammock slows, the chicken makes a break for it. Between fits of giggles, my boy scolds the flustered fowl and sets off to find a new "friend" to rock to sleep. Inside my middelest daughter is snuggled in a chair, reading out loud, covered in blankets. The lumps under the fabric move and shift until two tiny

Tuesday morning. At our house, this means swimming lessons. Specifically, it means corralling 3 little girls into swimming suits, braiding 3 heads of hair, grabbing 3 towels and enough snacks to keep a non-swimming 2 year old from coming unhinged while at the pool. We have this system down fairly well, and despite the fact it looks like we are packing for a week long trip across the country, we manage to make it to the pool every Tuesday. This particular day, the boy was feeling very...two. Opinionated. Obstanent. Infuriating. Pick your "describes a two year old" word. He was that, big personality, little patience, lots of feelings, little control. Most of the time, this little blond dude can roll with the punches and is an enjoyable member of our little tribe. But today? Yeah, not so much. We pull up to the pool, disembark from Doug (the Durango) and head for the pool. "Mama, I need up" In my hands I have my purse, my cup of coffee that I haven't had ti

At 5:45 I am joined in bed by a small, blond man who insists on putting his cold toes on my warm back. I ignore him until 6:30 when his insistent "Is it wake up time yet?" for the 20 time becomes too much to bare. Stumble downstairs and start a pot of coffee. J- "Mama, I'm hungry" M- "Sure buddy, what kind of cereal do you want?" J- "I don't want cereal, I want eggs" M- "Ok, scrambled?" J- "No, dipping ones. With toast" 10 minutes of food prep, with constant commentary and questioning if it was ready yet. Hand him one egg and a piece of toast. J-"Its hot. Blow it, please?" Spend 5 minutes of blowing on eggs and toast until toddler thinks it is safe J- "Toast is icky. I just want the egg." Sister walks in and asks for cheerios. I pour her a bowl, top with blueberries, she says "thanks" and proceeds to eat. J- " I want cereal!" M- " Buddy, you asked for eggs

I did it, the thing I said I would NEVER do. I have raised entitled children. It started innocently enough. I like to eat, and therefore, place high value on cooking. Add that to being gluten free and I have spent many hours in my kitchen. It is family ritual to sit together every evening and enjoy hot coco and cookies. The other night, I committed the unforgivable sin (at least in my entitled children s eyes) and I served gluten free OREOS. Not a home baked slice of caramel apple cake or a snickerdoodle fresh from the oven, but a boxed-neatly-in-a-row cookie from the store. This is when I realized that my children have reached a dangerous level of home-baked cookie entitlement. We have several types of store bought treats including, but not limited to, candy, cookies, wafers and newtons. All of these are stored at kid-can-reach level, but they remain mostly untouched. Alas, they are ruined, but I guess I am too. It is hard to beat a fresh from the oven treat. This morning I