Under Age Reading...

There are those moments that come along from time to time that scream, "Blog about me!"

Tonight was one of those moments occurred.

A little background first.

Aislynn is four years old. At three years old she started reading. Gasp! I know, this is obscene and not particularly the norm. Believe me, I know. I taught kindergarten once upon a time. Don't worry, my two year old thinks the letter "I" is a "2." Perhaps I will write about this early reading thing another day, but for now it is important to understand that I have a little reader. Don't worry, this is not a "brag hag" post that will make you puke. Stay with me here. Aislynn reads everything she sees, including some "expressive" thoughts on public bathroom walls, and inside park playhouses. I think you get the picture. As you can imagine, this poses a problem at times.

Which brings us to tonight. And this was a first.

It all started with this.

That's right folks. The Berenstain Bears.

Not long after I put Aislynn to bed did I hear a bedroom door slowly open and my four year old's little face peek into my room. She usually looks at a few books in her bed before falling asleep.

"What are you doing?" I asked.

"Mom, I have a problem," she announced with deep concern in her voice. She then handed me The Berenstain Bears Clean House. Should I be taking a hint here? Aislynn opened the book to this page and said, "Look."

Yep, the "I Can Read Books" index page. No one usually cares about this page, except my child.

I was not at all sure where this was going, drawing a blank, uh...I asked, "What's the problem with this page?"

"This book is haunted mom. See!" she pointed to the title that read, This Book Is Haunted, under author Joanne Rocklin.

I looked at her little face full of concern. This was no joke to my daughter. While trying to take this situation as serious as she made it out to be, I also tried to hold back some laughter at my early reader's interesting discovery.

"Ok," I started, "This book you are reading here is named The Clean House. This page in the back of your The Clean House book tells us a whole bunch of names of other books, see?" I pointed to the list of names including the unmentionable.

Crickets. Blank stare.

"But Mom, this book is haunted, oh no!" she persisted.

At that point I said a brief thanks to my excellent parenting combined with Nick Jr combined with the month of October which apparently had instilled in this four year old a definition to the word "haunted." Through some harmless Halloween-ish themed episodes of Wow, wow, Wubbzy-oh-and honorable mention to Mickey Mouse Club House on Disney. Thanks. (Sarcasm)

"Aislynn. This book is NOT haunted. And the word "haunted" is just a silly word that people use sometimes at Halloween (close enough to the real definition)," I added as a sub point to my original explanation.

"But Mom, see right here, THIS BOOK IS HAUNTED. We have a problem," she persisted with sincere urgency this time. I could see we were not going to get anywhere down my path of reasoning. Time to call an audible.

"I have an idea!" I said very excitedly. As a mom and former kindergarten teacher, I learned a long time ago, that if you say anything in an enthusiastic voice to children under the age of 6, they grow very excited and thrown off track.

Aislynn perked up, "What Mom?"

Eyeing a black pen on my dresser, I took matters into my own hands.

"See, is that better?" I asked

"This book is HAPPY!" she shouted. "Yes, Mom, this is so good."

Big Sigh.

"See, now we don't have a problem," I said. Aislynn was clearly happy with my edit.

"Thanks Mom," she said as she headed back off to bed.

I didn't realize I had to sensor the Berenstain Bears books...But then again, Sister Bear does play "spin the bottle" at her six year old birthday party in Too Much Birthday...

Not a "tween" romance...

Lately I wanted to write something meaningful and authentic...but nothing came. I don't think I have "writers block." I think actually think I'm dealing with "writers blockage." There is so much inside my head-ideas, thoughts, feeling, etc. that I can't actually focus in on any one thing clearly creating quite a build up. So I guess I'll just write anyway and hope I can get things unclogged!

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It always started with a song. Actually, it started with some sort of "drama" that usually involved a boy. Then came the song. The song had to be a major downer, usually a popular and depressing song, and it had to be played on repeat. Of course this scenario also required a locked room with dim lighting or candles. The perfect scene for melodramatic teenage episodes with lots of tears, usually about insignificant problems in the whole scheme of things. Oh to be a teenager again, or not!

When the "teen years" come up in random moments at family gatherings, my father in law can always be quoted saying ,

"Oh, I'd do those teen years over in a heartbeat with the boys (my husband and his brother).

My response is usually a look of disbelief followed by, "Yea...I don't think my parents share those same sentiments."

I was not quite the model teenager. I was the perfect model of sneakiness...except when my mom caught me attempting something sneaky. She said you always have a sixth sense about your kids. Being the ripe age of 29, I now look at "tweens" and teens alike, and think,

You look like you are 5 years old! You should not be holding hands with boys! Let alone doing other things with boys...

I am constantly telling my husband I need a good 1o years to chill out before dealing with two teenage girls. I technically only have 9 years until I am faced with my first teenage girl. I am hoping my sneakiness has not genetically passed to my little ladies.

Lately I notice myself listening to songs about love. The songs are not about a superficial love, a lame boy girl drama, or something absolutely pointless. The songs are about a real, true, and unfathomable love.

I think about my teenage definition of love. How do you define something so shallow? I gave my heart away far too many times. It usually ended with a song, a candlelit room, and many tears. I remember being sixteen sitting in a car with my boyfriend, about to be x-boyfriend, pleading and crying for us not to break up, so afraid of what it would be like to not have his "love." Not the proudest most confident of moments! But there is NO fear in love. I John 4:18 says, "...perfect love expels all fear..."

I grew up in a Christian home, with a loving family, in a Christian school, memorizing lots of verses about God's love. And somehow, I still looked for love in a variety of places. Sometimes knowing something is not enough. You have to really believe it, and feel it, and practice it. I feel like it took me years to "get" that, to get "how wide, how long, how high, and how deep his [God's] love really is Ephesians 4:18." It's a constant struggle to remember this fact and to believe it, feel it, and practice it.

This year I hope to believe, feel, and practice the real love of God in all its hugeness.

I'm trying to get rid of my writers block...

in the meantime, I am loving this.

Like mother like daughter.

Here I am, roughly one Minnie cake, one candy corn cake, one round of mini cupcakes, and one assortment of giant cupcakes later. Since my last post, every person in my family has celebrated a birthday. After the unmentionable happened-which I shall now mention-you know, the computer fiasco; I have found it difficult to get my writing groove on. But then this morning I walked into my four year old's room.

"I really hope you are not coloring in a reading book," I said, full well knowing that is exactly what I walked in on.

Aislynn looked up from her intentional rogue coloring activity. "But mom," she started, "I don't have any paper and I needed to write you a thank you note."

That was not quite the response I was expecting, but nice. This girl is quick on her feel, resourceful. These skills could come in handy someday. But back to the crime. "Well, I love when you write me thank you notes, but next time you need to ask Mommy for some paper."

Yeah, so here is the piece of evidence. Since when did writing your own name signify a "thank you?" I do love that kids mark the seen of the crime with their own name, very sneaky.

I guess I can be thankful that she was using crayon to write inside of a book, and not permanent black marker to write on the walls and herself, like I did as a child. The "Brooke writes with permanent marker all over herself and the walls" is a classic in our family. When my mom caught me and asked what I was doing, I responded, "I don't know." Apparently, by the time my dad arrived home, I had come up with a better excuse. My new answer, "I didn't have any paper." What can I say, like mother like daughter. I wish I had been smart enough in the midst of my crime to add that I was writing a "thank you" note too!

Its back...

For those of you desperate to take on my "DIY Hood to Hoodrest Tutorial" good news for you, its back! I temporarily removed the tutorial after it was brought to my attention by countless individuals concerned that the tutorial was being plagiarized for profit. This tutorial is meant for PERSONAL USE ONLY. If you are interested in purchasing a carrier like the one listed in this tutorial and not interested in sewing one, you may contact me directly via email.

Thank you so much for everyone's support and kind words about the tutorial.

In the meantime, those of you who love this tutorial will be happy to know I am working on a very in depth buckle carrier tutorial.

Happy Sewing!

Brooke

PS As always, if you have any questions about the tutorial, my carriers, or my personal creation-the one and only Mei-la Wrap, don't hesitate to contact me via email.

Mei-la Wraps:

Computer, you complete me...

I came to the realization over the past 2 weeks that I am half human, half robot. I learned this after finding it extremely difficult to function as a human without my computer. Yes, I am that lame.

2 weeks ago my computer suffered a stroke and died. Cause of death? Undetermined. It is still too painful and too fresh to go through all the details. All I know is my computer completely shut down, I panicked, tried to shock it-well not really, that would likely result in a fire-but I practically gave it mouth to mouth while screaming, "Don't give up on me...I love you!" Ok, that might be a slight exaggeration, however this tragedy occurred at roughly 1:25am (Eastern time) and there were no conscious witnesses.

I spent HOURS the next day on the phone with I kid you not, THIRTEEN different HP/Tech/Tormentors. I was at about my breaking point when this conversation ensued:

(After already being forced by one phone tech to attempt to do open heart surgery on the computer tower, 10 techs later, and 6 hours later...)

*This conversation is real and actually occurred as stated below.

Tormentor: "Ma'am, please try to unscrew the screws that are attached to the side panel of the tower-"

Me: "NO!!!! I am NOT going through THAT again! No! I do not want to take apart the tower, that makes me feel very uncomfortable, I have a warranty!"

Tormentor: "Ma'am I need you to first-"

Me: "NO! The other guy already made me do that. He had me unscrew the panel, look inside and try to remove parts that would NOT come out. I do not have a screw driver that small! I am not a computer technician, I have a warranty! Why can't someone else take care of this problem!?"

Tormentor: "Ma'am I am trying to help you with this problem, but first I need you to tell me what you saw when you opened up the computer. What did you do?"

Me: Large Sigh. "Fine. I..." Told him everything I did.

At this point, Akael got sneaky, he started asking me if I did this or that when the tower was open...and, could I try to trace the bundle of wires attached to the mother board?

Wait! WHAT THE? He was trying to get me to take parts out of the computer again? I felt like I was in some sort of weird technology horror movie. I could just see all the bored computer technicians gathered around Akael's computer screen laughing hysterically at my almost mental breakdown. "Tell her to gently pop out the fan! Haha! Its screwed in! Haha! She'll feel like a dumb ass! Haha! Tell her to put her computer in the toilette! Haha..."

Although I was VERY near jumping off a cliff...or the couch, I indulged Akael as he gave me a crash course in mother board 101, computer lingo, and the hard wiring of a HP Pavilion Slimline. I could really give a sh** about all that, but if it got me to that beautiful point in the conversation where he would ask me for my warranty info I would endure.

I will spare you the gruesome details and the horrific things he made me do with the wires..unlatching wires..reattaching wires...all sorts of mad scientist stuff. I'll just bring you in to the end of the conversation, otherwise known as my full technology mental breakdown.

Me: "I CANNOT DO THIS ANYMORE!!! I HAVE BEEN ON THE PHONE FOR HOURS AND TALKED TO EVERYONE WHO WORKS AT HP! I DO NOT UNDERSTAND WHAT YOU ARE TALKING ABOUT! I DO NOT WANT TO DO THIS! I HAVE A WARRANTY! WHY ARE YOU MAKING ME TRY TO REPAIR MY COMPUTER. IT DIED ALL THE WAY LAST NIGHT. THERE IS NO GREEN LIGHT OR YELLOW LIGHT ANYWHERE!!! AND I FEEL VERY UNCOMFORTABLE LOOKING INSIDE MY COMPUTER! I DON'T EVEN THINK WE ARE LOOKING AT THE SAME COMPUTER!! I CANNOT TAKE THIS ANYMORE! I HAVE A WARRANTY!!!!!

Akael the Tormentor: With a slight chuckle-no exaggeration.

Me: "I am not an idiot! I actually know how to use a computer pretty well. But there are major idiots out there who own computers! And I do not believe you make all of them open up their computers and take out parts. Half of those idiots don't probably even own a screw driver or know how to use one. Why are you making me do this? AHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

Akael the Tormentor: Pleased that he had seen me crack. "OK Ma'am. I just need you to do one more thing for me. Screw the side panel back on and reattach the computer to the monitor and the power source and try to turn it on."

Me: WTF? You have GOT to be kidding me? Is that all? "Oh, is that all? Then what?"

Akael the Tormentor: Please Ma'am, can you do this for me and then tell me what happens.

After indulging Akael, I attempted to turn on the computer. Guess what happened? NOTHING!!! Just like I knew was going to happen roughly seven hours before that. When you see your own computer die before your own eyes, you know when its dead and its not coming back.

Akael's response to this: "OK, so it appears there is in fact something wrong with the town and it is not the monitor. I will now take down your information and someone will call you in the next 24 hours with further instructions. A box will most likely be shipped to you and you will mail in your computer tower in this box for repair."

What is this, mission impossible? At this point I was able to step away from the ledge. It only look 7 and a half hours and 13 people to get to the warranty info. I looked at my "HP care pack services" packet and now understood what the "In-home repair service" meant. I also scoffed at the picture on the cover with a grandfatherly man helping a family understand their computer problem.

Long story short:
Our computer is home safe-after being delivered in a not so safe box with little explanation of anything. I do know he had a heart transplant-AKA-the hard drive was replaced. On the plus side, I am thankful we actually had a warranty and did not have to buy a new computer. Although, I was seconds away from shouting, "Screw you Akael! I am going to the Apple Store! Take your HP Slimline and shove it!" On the minus side, I am very sad that none of our pictures, music, or documents could be recovered...or so they say. They are tormentors over at HP so who knows...

I don't know that I will ever get that image out of my head of my computer fully open and exposed, mother board and all, but I will try to heal and back up everything while I am at it! Oh, wait I currently have nothing to back up.

Me: Fists raised and on my knees "HP!!!"

Going for the dramatic finish.

PS: I have also learned I do not need a computer to complete me.

ret·ro·spect [ réttrə spèkt ]

Just 24 days shy of four years old, Aislynn loves life.

Today in the car she announced, " I am SO excited!" full of anticipation about the playdate we were driving to, and the new friends we would meet. She actually had no idea what we would be doing or who we would be doing it with.

"How many friends will there be?" she asked.

"I don't know," I said.

She followed up, "What will their names be?"

"We'll just have to wait and see," I responded.

On arriving to our playdate with some new moms we were meeting, all but one for the first time, Aislynn was beaming. "Ooo..they have a park in their back yard!" she announced.

Park, swing set, what's the difference right? Aislynn proceeded to play, greet some of the children, wave at the moms, and even serenade some of them with her rendition of Amazing Grace.

One of the moms asked me, "Has she always been this friendly?"

And there it was, the question I never dreamed I would be asked in regards to this little girl. It was a question I only dreamed, hoped, and prayed a little less than 2 years ago that I might be asked someday.

I responded to the mom's question, and gave a mini synopsis of Aislynn's 180 degree turn around trip from anti-social, to social extremist. The mom of course, was very surprised by my response based on Aislynn's current extremely happy and social demeanor.

On the way home I started to think back. It was one of those retrospective moments. A moment where you are outside of a particular situation and you actually have some perspective, Rays of light finally shine through. You actually find some light at the end of an endless dark tunnel. You need those moments to give you hope for the other tunnels you still might find yourself in.

And so I realized that everyone we meet and have met in our new home in Bloomington Indiana will meet my extremely friendly, sweet, smart, kind and outgoing little girl.

They will never know that this same little girl who runs right up to people eager to introduce herself, used to freeze like a deer in the headlights when other children her same age approached. They will never know that she used to refuse to acknowledge other children and actually ran away from them.

This little lover of all new experiences and people used to cry when things were not "just so" or when new people were in the mix. I even remember the Christmas after she turned 2, celebrating Christmas at my in-laws when she refused to sit at the table with her aunt, uncle, and cousins the first night we arrived. She barely made it into the house. It was so extreme, we had to eat in the other room away from everyone else that first night. Those were some dark moments.

And once again I remember dreaming, hoping, and praying that someday, someday she might become more social. I dreamed, hoped, and prayed that she would find a way to enjoy other people, tolerate new experiences, love life, and tell me all her little ponderings while eating more than 5 foods. Many days, it seemed like an unattainable goal, and merely a dream.

But hope never died. We pressed on through the sometimes very dark tunnel because we knew there would be light at the end if we could hold on to hope. Life is not perfect. Aislynn is not prefect. But she is a dream come true.

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NEVER would have happened 2 years ago. Now a reality...

Reading to little sis...


Hugging little sis...even though little sis is turning out to be quite the little bully...


Fireworks, loud noises...


Trying and LOVING new things...


Loving friends, being a friend.