Author: Casey

I have a to-do list as long as my arm, and the overwhelming number of tasks I need to accomplish are leading me to do….nothing. So this is me, checking “blog” off the list. Also, we decorated the Christmas tree last night. We got a wonky tree that doesn’t have a straight trunk, so it always looks a little unsteady and uncomfortable. We decided that it fits right in with the rest of us. 

For real though, check out the light show that this star puts on the ceiling. Emmett about lost it when we plugged it in last night. And yes, the stars move.

And now, back to the list. Time to find the motivation to get the vomit stains out of Madeline’s carpet. Yay me!!

I know I’ve written about this before, but it bears repeating.

A family member recently posted something about how they only share the most positive aspects of their life online. Only the most flattering selfies, pictures with the mess of life carefully hidden, and only the best looking food. I’m also guilty of this. I almost never take selfies because I’m rarely pleased with the resulting image. I take pictures of my children when they’re cute or funny. I post about the crafts I’ve completed, the food I’ve made from scratch, and the funny things my children say or do. But please, know that this, while not a “lie,” is only a half-truth. My home is a disaster. I’ve started more projects than I’ll likely ever finish. Mail piles up in the mailbox because walking across the street to pick it up is a hassle. My kids are driving me insane with their constant talking and fighting.

So in the upcoming holiday season, if you’re feeling like your Christmas isn’t as perfect as mine, think again. If you feel like you should spend more time baking cookies, hand-making Christmas cards, enjoying your children’s laughter, and ringing in the New Year with a happy midnight kiss, remember this: the internet lies.

When I bake cookies, I’m yelling at the children to please, for the love of everything holy, keep your hands out of the mixer and stop trying to open the oven. When I post a picture or video of happy children playing in a clean living room, their bedrooms are disasters that practically require hazmat suits to enter. When I post about one of my delightful simmering scents that’s making the house smell like everything that’s good with the world, know that I’m doing it to cover up another smell that I can’t identify or find the source of. And for every happy moment with my children that I choose to share with the world, there are 2, 3 or 5 moments which resulted in me yelling at them to please, please, PLEASE GET THAT TOOTHBRUSH OUT OF YOUR BUTT AND STOP EATING YOUR CHAIR!!!

So remember this: nobody is really the person they post online. We’re all putting our best selves out there. So this is me, just keeping it real. You got this.

Before I start this story, I’d like to preface it by saying that while it seems like I’m complaining that the educational system has let us down and the people who we thought were there to help us really didn’t, … well… actually, I do feel like that. But it’s kind of my fault too, so I can’t be mad at anyone, which is probably the real reason why I’m so surly about the whole thing.

After I wrote this, I realized that my “short story about the importance of self-advocacy” became more of a novella. It’s important, though. Maybe it’ll be helpful to some of you.

When Emmett was born, we were taken by surprise by his diagnosis. Sure, we knew it was a possibility from a couple of markers on an ultrasound, but the odds were still very low. Our NICU doctor (an amazing man with a son of his own with Down syndrome, who told me my son was perfect) started the process of enrolling us in Wisconsin’s birth-to-3 program. All states have it (as far as I’m aware), but it can go by other names. Basically, they help with whatever you need to get your child the services he or she needs until they turn 3. Our birth-to-3 coordinator got us set up with Medicaid, would have gotten me set up with the WIC program if I hadn’t declined, and brought us therapists whenever she or we thought it would help. She also got Emmett set up with his school as he neared his third birthday. It was awesome. However, once Emmett turned 3, we were kind of kicked to the curb (at least that’s what it felt like).

Once children age out of the birth-to-3 program, they become the responsibility of the public school system (at least in terms of readily-available therapies). Obviously parents can seek out additional services if they think it would help, but it’s something you do yourself.

By nature, I am a do-it-yourself-er. If you’ve been following me or know me in person, that should be pretty obvious. I’m not one to ask for help, and I figure that if it CAN be done then I can figure it out myself. I’m not into “support groups” (not much of a people person in general), and I try, whenever possible, to do my own research and to follow my instincts. I’m also a person who tends to defer to authority figures. If a professional tells me that they’re doing what’s best, and I don’t have any qualms or strong opinions of my own, I will defer to their better judgement. They are the expert, after all.

I did a lot of reading in those early years, and I sent a lot of emails. I contacted a hippotherapy facility near us to see if they thought horse riding would help with his balance and gross motor skills. They said yes, but it wasn’t covered by our insurance. I contacted the YMCA and a local special-needs therapy facility with a pool to ask about swim lessons. I wanted to see if they thought they could help us with his fear of water, and maybe water resistance could help with his poor muscle tone. One place said “we don’t do that,” and the other said “he’s too young.” I looked into music therapy, gymnastics, dance classes, and mommy-and-me everything. Every place I spoke to either said he’s too young, we don’t deal with special needs children, or it’s too expensive.

However, when Emmett started Early Childhood at our local elementary school at age 3, it became clear that I was out of my depth and should just leave it to the school. He was getting physical, occupational, and speech therapy several days per week. His teacher was getting him to communicate using a picture board. All of that was great, and it seemed like we were doing everything we could for Emmett. I asked his teacher and therapists if there was anything else I could or should do with him at home, and they basically said, “Don’t worry, we have it covered here.” However, once he turned 4 and became eligible for the 4K program, his teacher told us he wasn’t ready. He wouldn’t fit in. He couldn’t go to 4K, and should stay in Early Childhood another year. This was not a question from her, it was a statement. All the therapists in our meeting nodded in approval. They know best.

The following year, we began talking about kindergarten. Or, rather, his teacher started talking about how Emmett was now too old for the Early Childhood class, so he had to leave. There was no mention of “kindergarten” until I mentioned it. All talk focused on the Special Ed room. When I asked, “How much time will he be with his peers?” I was told that he’d be with them whenever possible (which sounded more like “whenever is convenient”), but that he wouldn’t really be a good fit in the kindergarten class because he’s not ready. He’d be there for the beginning of class, the end of class, lunch, and specials (gym, library, music). This was…upsetting. I don’t like to think of my son as someone who “can’t.” Because I know my boy, and he CAN if you just give him a chance!

At this point, I pulled out the big guns and asked my mom to come with me for another meeting. Mom was a teacher, and is now a sign language interpreter, so she’s been on both side of “special needs” education. Because I brought reinforcements, the school also brought reinforcements – several other people were in the meeting whom I’d never seen before. They were all there to nod their heads when Emmett’s teacher recommended something, and to look at us like WE were the unreasonable ones when we asked for more inclusion in the kindergarten class.

I decided to do some more research, and began reading about how children with Down syndrome learn. I honestly hadn’t noticed much of a change in Emmett’s speech, gross motor, or fine motor skills since he’d started school. At least no more improvement than he would have had without schooling over the same time period. I read about the current theories about how our brains learn, and how kids with Down syndrome learn differently. Not slower, but DIFFERENTLY. I talked to his teacher about what I had read, and she was not supportive. I got the feeling that she thought I was telling her she was incompetent, and she basically shut me down.

This was the first time that I realized that I couldn’t rely on other people to do what was in my son’s best interest. This was when I realized I needed to advocate for my son. I decided that I would take it upon myself to teach him in the way that he would learn best. I bought a book that had popped up several times in my research about learning differences in Down syndrome children. I highly recommend it – Whole Child Reading, by Natalie Hale. It describes HOW kids like mine learn, and explains the best way to teach to their strengths. I read it cover to cover, started implementing some of the techniques, and BAM! Emmett could read a book I wrote for him! Emmett. Could. READ! I was so excited to see results that I shared it with his Early Childhood teacher. I sent his book (and the flashcards I had used to teach him the words) to school, and said “He can read this story I wrote! I found a book about how to teach kids with Down syndrome to read in a different way, and it’s working!” She sent a note home with Emmett that said, and I am NOT paraphrasing here, “That’s cute. I see that he’s memorized the book. Now I get why he doesn’t know the letters in his name anymore. Also, he’s saying the letter “M” instead of the word “am” in this book he’s memorized.” I was livid. I decided I wasn’t going to talk to that teacher anymore. She was dead to me.

I started looking into other schools in the area. They turned us away with a letter that said “We don’t have the services available to handle a child like your son.” I contacted the school district to ask if this was normal and if they had any suggestions for me. They said “The school he’s at now is the best we have for special needs education.” I looked into homeschooling. I considered a Montessori school. I thought about moving. Finally, I decided to have a sit-down meeting with the Special Education teacher. After all, Emmett was about to leave Early Childhood, so what did it matter what that teacher thought anymore? This woman is amazing. She LISTENED to me. She saw Emmett read his story! She asked to borrow the book I had read, so she could study it over the summer and implement it when he moved to her class! I could have hugged her (I don’t really do “touching”).

She asked about Emmett and what he likes, so she could use that information to help him learn. His old teacher never asked a single thing about his interests. I asked her if there was anything else I could do with him over the summer to prepare him for school. She gave a suggestion for a music therapy program she had heard of that dealt specifically with special needs children, and had a lot of experience with Down syndrome in particular. I contacted them, and their first question was “Is Emmett part of the waiver program?”

Whaaaaat? I had no idea. I asked them about it, and they sent me a link to a website that I would have NEVER found unless I already knew what it was called. Apparently, Wisconsin has something called the Children’s Long Term Support Waiver Program. It’s extra money they give you to help pay for services that are not covered by insurance. They also give you a coordinator that helps to determine what other services are available that might be helpful, and helps to set everything up. Unfortunately, there was a waiting list. It might be 6-9 months, maybe longer, before we’d make it off the waiting list. I was mad that no one had ever mentioned this to us. I was mad at myself for not finding it earlier on my own. I was broken-hearted over the thought that we could have been doing so much more for Emmett if I hadn’t just assumed that others were right when they said “We’re doing all we can.”

Fast forward to now, and we finally made it off the waiting list! Not 1 month after we first qualified for services, and we’ve already started swim lessons (his instructor is amazing), and he’s starting gymnastics this week. We also have a meeting this week to see what type of music therapy will help him the most. We’ll be working on gross motor, fine motor, and communication skills. He’s so excited about it all! I’m so excited about it!

His new teacher is perfect. She takes my suggestions (rather than shooting me down for interfering), and offers suggestions of her own to keep working on at home. He’s a part of his kindergarten class, and has a lot of friends who will see him around town and yell to their parents “That’s Emmett! He’s in my class! Hi, Emmett!” His kindergarten teacher is working closely with his Special Ed teacher to ensure he’s getting the most from both of them. I’m beyond happy with how it’s working out.

This year, he’s improving by leaps and bounds. He’s talking in complete sentences! He’s making his OWN sentences, rather than just repeating a sentence he’s heard before that fits the situation. He’s learned to RUN! He can climb stairs! He’s started back-talking! Wait… that’s not so good… but he’s using his own words to do it, so I’m not even that mad!

So, anyway, that’s the long, roundabout way of saying YOU KNOW WHAT’S BEST FOR YOUR CHILD! FIGHT FOR THEM, AND DON’T BE COMPLAISANT! FIND SOMEONE – ANYONE – WHO IS WILLING TO HELP AND WORK WITH YOU AND DON’T LET THEM GO! It might have taken me 6 years to figure out how to navigate the system, but it’s been worth it.

I don’t like to think of myself as a “crafter.” My crafts are mostly done for their utility rather than for aesthetic reasons (though if I’m going to make something it’s going to be made well). That said, I’ve got what I like to think of as “crafter’s ADD.” I’ve never been able to pick a project and stick with it exclusively until completion. As an example, while I was making Madeline’s flower girl dress (something that should have taken a couple of days) I also made 4 seat cushions, and altered 2 dresses and a pair of pants for other family members.

I currently have 5-6 projects in some level of doneness, and another 10-12 that I’ve got all the supplies for but haven’t started yet. I’ve recently re-started a project that I began probably 15 years ago. I made it a goal to stick with it and finish it uninterrupted. I’ve only made a pair of mittens and a scarf since I started. I’m impressed with my restraint.

So I know that I’m always trying new and “weird” things, but I recently stepped out of my comfort zone and did something actually new! I saw an old wooden quilt stand on Facebook marketplace, and thought it looked just like a tiny clothes rack. Thought I’d have a go at refinishing it to hang up all of Madeline’s princess costumes. It was originally varnished, and then it was painted with a too-thin layer of super shiny white, and then it was partially painted again in a thick layer of matte baby blue. It wasn’t super ugly or anything, but the paint was pretty beat up and I knew we could do better. Also, someone had used white school glue to attach some weird rhinestones near the top, and they were all falling off and leaving glue splotches behind. I didn’t think to take a picture until I had half of the thing stripped.

I let Madeline pick the colors, because I figured that was the best way to make it awesome. She decided on blue with (as she put it) “mermaid sparkle” accents. It’s definitely HER. Can you tell she’s excited?

I’m cheap (and apparently I don’t value my time very highly), so rather than going out to buy a chemical paint stripper I just used a putty knife to scrape it off. Worked pretty well except for the shiny white stuff, because the paint layer was too thin to chip it off cleanly. Once I got all the rhinestones, glue and paint off (minus the white stuff – not worth the effort), I sanded the whole thing down to smooth it out and remove any residual paint. I’ve heard it’s not really necessary when using the paint I decided to go with, but I figured I’d rather be safe than sorry. I’d hate to finish up the whole thing and have paint start chipping off in a year. Plus, I need maximum paint stickage to stop this little gopher from chewing it off too easily. She’s an animal. “I’m not chewin’ it, Mom. I’m not!” To be fair, her teeth were touching it, but she wasn’t moving her mouth. Technically she’s right, and she’s all about being technically right.

I used chalk paint (readily available in a variety of colors at most craft stores), which worked out really well. Decided to go with two layers to minimize the appearance of brush strokes and to make sure I got an even coat of paint and didn’t miss anything. Madeline helped by painting with pretend paint (“Don’t worry, Mom. We’ll do this together.”). She took her job very seriously. After the whole thing was painted blue, we added the “mermaid sparkles” and then covered the whole thing in two layers of a clear top coat. Check out that sparkle!

She was (and is) very proud of the final product. And so am I! It kind of has me wondering if there are other random things I can re-purpose and/or refinish. It was actually pretty fun.

So there you have it. I tried something new, and it worked! So if you ever find some weird piece of “why does that even exist” furniture, take a look at it and see if you can make it into something useful (and sparkly).

If you’re following me on Facebook (if you’re not, you should), then you know that I have a small apple tree in my front yard. It’s adorably tiny, but it grew a good amount of apples this year. So much, in fact, that I was able to make and can 6 jars of apple butter! I also boiled down the cores and peels to make 14 cups of apple “juice” (not for drinking, but more about that later).

So what is apple butter? If you’re not into canning, you might not have seen it before. For some reason, it’s not sold in most stores. This is a real shame, because apple butter is AMAZING. There’s no actual butter involved, so I honestly don’t know why it’s called that (apart from the fact that butter is delicious and so is this). Apple butter is what you get if you let apple sauce cook for a long, long time. It’s a concentrated, smooth puree of cooked apple goodness. It’s like a smooth, creamy apple jam. So how do you make it?

To start your apple butter journey, you need apples. Obviously. The only other required ingredient is sugar (and to be honest you might not need it if you have really sweet apples). I also like to add spices to give it some depth. I used cinnamon, nutmeg and allspice in this batch. I don’t measure anything for apple butter, because the ingredients will vary depending on the type of apple you use. My apples are tart, so I used more sugar than you might need to if you use a sweeter variety.

Step 1: Prepare your apples. Peel, core, and cut them into small pieces. Bigger pieces are OK, but will take longer to cook down. (SAVE YOUR PEELS AND CORES! Cover them with water in a big pot and simmer until the cores are soft. You can use the resulting strained liquid to make a delicious apple jelly.) And yes, I know these don’t look like apples. I have no idea what kind of tree we planted, but it makes apples that are pink on the inside. Weird, but delicious.

Step 2: Put the apples in a pot and add some water. You don’t have to be exact. We’re really just adding water so that the apples don’t burn while you’re waiting for them to release their own juices as they cook. If you add too much, just let it cook longer to reduce. You can always add more as you go if needed. Just make sure there’s always liquid at the bottom while the apples are cooking.

Step 3: Cook it. We don’t need it to be boiling here, but a nice simmer would be good. Stir frequently to make sure there’s enough water. Add more water if it starts to look too thick. Let it go until you have a pot of mush. It’ll get darker in color as you go. 

Step 4: Once it’s looking saucy, add your sugar. I like brown sugar for its depth of flavor, but any sugar will work. Add a little at a time, and keep tasting until it’s where you want it. Now is also a good time to add any spices you might want (cinnamon, nutmeg, allspice and even ginger are all good options). Again, just add a little at a time. It’s easier to add more than it is to fix it if you’ve added too much.

Step 5: Mash, blend, sieve and/or puree until you’re happy with it. I used an immersion blender for mine. We’re going for a buttery smooth texture. Now is your last chance to get it the way you want it. Add more water if it’s too thick, or cook longer if it’s too thin. You’re looking for something that’s a spreadable consistency. Remember that it’ll thicken up a little bit when it cools, so go for a pudding-type thickness. When you’re stirring, it’ll look almost glossy. Usually it’ll be a kind of creamy light caramel color. Mine came out a little more red than is typical because of my weird pink apples. (this video is terrible quality, sorry)

When it’s done, process in a boiling water bath for 10 minutes. It’s spectacular on toast, English muffins and biscuits. It can also be added to homemade sauces and marinades for cooking meats (pork or BBQ are classic options). Give it a try!

Last week I did something that I’ve been dreading for almost 6 years; I explained my son’s differences to his kindergarten class. They have been asking why he’s different for a while now. Why does he leave class sometimes? Why doesn’t he talk like they do? Why does he have to sit on a chair instead of on the floor with everyone else? Why doesn’t he listen? Why does he understand better when you talk with your hands or with pictures instead of just your mouth? All valid questions, but not ones I wanted to acknowledge.

My son, as you likely know, has Down syndrome. I tend to shy away from the term, because I’m still not comfortable with it. Yes, I know, understand, and accept that my son is different. But I’m still clinging to the idea that he’s different because EVERYONE is different, rather than “he’s a different kind of different.” I treat my son the same way I treat my typical daughter. His diagnosis is never used as an excuse or as a crutch. He’s a little slower to learn or to understand, just like my daughter is stubborn as a mule and talks back (we’re working on it). Every child has their own interests, dislikes, strengths, weaknesses, and hurdles to overcome.

So when Emmett’s teacher said to me, “The kids are asking questions about Emmett. What would you like to do?” I was a little lost and panicked. This required me to actually stop and tell people “My son is different than the rest of you.” I don’t think of him that way, and it still breaks my heart to think that there are some people who look at him and just see his diagnosis. He’s so much more than that.

So when I was asked what to do about the children’s questions, I decided that I wanted to talk to them myself. Who better to describe “Why is Emmett different?” than the person who can tell them all the ways in which Emmett is also the same.

We’re fortunate in that one of Emmett’s friends is in his class this year. His friend is only a few weeks older than Emmett, and he also has Down syndrome. His mother sent a letter home with their classmates explaining what Down syndrome is and, maybe more importantly, what it’s not. We planned it so that I could come in a few days after the letter went out to answer any questions the kids had. And now here’s what I’d like YOU to know.

Down syndrome is not an illness or disease.

Down syndrome is not scary.

Down syndrome doesn’t mean he CAN’T.

Down syndrome isn’t a “problem” that needs to be cured, changed, or “fixed.”

Down syndrome is an unchangeable part of who he is, but it is NOT what defines him.

Down syndrome is the name we give the characteristics commonly seen in people born with an extra copy of their 21st chromosome. The medical term is Trisomy 21.

Down syndrome is as much a part of him as the color of his skin and hair.

That extra chromosome is the reason for some minor differences in his appearance. It means that his eyes and ears are shaped a little different than mine and yours. His palm has a single crease running across it rather than two creases curving in opposite directions. There’s a gap between his big toe and the others that’s more noticeable than for most people. Perfect feet for flip-flops. But you know what? We all have chromosomes that make us different. Some people have red hair, some have dark skin, some have big noses. We all look different, and that’s ok.

That extra chromosome means that his body works a little differently. It causes him to have low muscle tone, which basically means that each of his muscle fibers is weaker than a typical person’s. This doesn’t mean he’s not or can’t be as strong as other people. What it means is that every movement he makes, be it moving his tongue to speak, moving his legs to walk, moving his fingers to hold a pencil, requires more muscle fibers than you need to use. It means that if YOU were using as many muscle fibers as HE does to do everyday tasks you’d basically be a body builder. Because of this, it took him longer to reach developmental milestones like rolling over, siting, walking and talking. Technically, people with Down syndrome are thought of as “developmentally delayed.” I think that this simplifies things too much. He’s not delayed because of lack of effort of motivation. He takes longer because he has to try so much harder! Every physical milestone he reaches is a testament to his hard work, determination, and desire to succeed. He’s amazing.

Finally, that extra chromosome means that his brain works a little differently, too. There’s nothing WRONG with the way his brain works, but the traditional educational system, the way we communicate, and the overall structure of our society are not designed for people like Emmett to succeed. Historically, this has meant that anyone who can’t just “figure it out” gets left behind. Doctors call this an intellectual disability, or a learning disability. But what if we stop thinking of them as “disabled,” and start thinking of them as “different.” You hear the term “differently-abled” thrown about and immediately think “What kind of PC bull**** is this?” I get it. That was me. But I’m here to tell you that my son does not have an intellectual disability. He does NOT lack the ABILITY to learn. He literally learns DIFFERENTLY. Imagine that you live in a world that uses different colors in place of letters of the alphabet. Everything else is the same, but the alphabet is now made of colors. Now imagine you’re born colorblind. The rest of society wouldn’t understand. They can’t see your “disability,” and you may not even know you’re different because you don’t know what you’re missing. Or if they did understand, they might still think you’re stupid. Who can’t learn to read? Preschoolers can learn to read. What’s wrong with your brain?! If people actually took the time to figure out how you’re different, then they could adjust the way they teach to match the way you learn.

And that’s the long way of saying that the kindergarteners in Emmett’s class seemed to already know everything I just wrote. They had no trouble understanding that people can be different without being broken. People can need help without needing to be fixed. Their questions weren’t so much about WHAT is different about Emmett, but HOW and WHY is he different and HOW can they help him succeed.

So now I ask you – If this concept comes naturally to a 5 year old, why is it so difficult for so called “reasoning” adults to comprehend?

It’s fall (basically). And while that means that my garden is on its way out (well, kind of – I’m bringing the smaller plants indoors for the winter), other foods are just ripening. I’m pretty psyched for apples this year. Hopefully I can get a good batch of applesauce, and some nice jelly from the apple remnants. But my favorite part of fall is the little-known hickory tree. What’s so cool about a hickory tree? They make hickory nuts. And what’s a hickory nut? It’s related to the pecan, and is one of the most tasty nuts out there. They don’t usually sell them in stores because they don’t have as long a shelf life as other nuts, and they’re a beast to crack open. I haven’t gone hickory-hunting since high school, so when I saw this year that hickory trees line the sidewalk by Emmett’s school I decided that this was the year for some serious foraging.

So what does a hickory tree look like? They’re one of the few trees that’s easy for pretty much anyone to identify. The ones with the best tasting nuts are also the ones with the most distinctive bark. It’s called a shagbark hickory, because of its distinctively “shaggy” bark. The bark on these trees pretty much always looks like paint peeling off an old house.

The nuts are in these weird green pod things, but don’t bother picking them off the tree. When the nuts are ripe, they fall to the ground on their own. A nice part of them falling to the ground is that the fall usually breaks the pod they’re in. If you have to break them out on your own, it’s easiest to throw it on the ground (but I usually wind up watching where the shell lands while the nut flies unnoticed in the opposite direction).

So every morning and afternoon when we walk from the car to school (I park at the end of the park so we have to walk the full length of the sidewalk), Madeline and I look for nuts. We can usually fill our pockets at least once a day. One morning, after a particularly windy evening, we had to drop our haul off in the car before continuing our walk to the school. You can’t let them sit too long or the squirrels get them (or the lawnmower – every crushed nut I see in the grass is a tragedy).

I mentioned earlier that they’re awful things to crack open, and I mean it. If you’re hoping for a nut that’s smooth and falls out of the shell like an almond you’re in for a rude awakening. These nuts have thick, rock-hard shells, and the meat inside is fairly soft and fragile. They’re next to impossible to break open without crushing the meat inside. If you don’t know what you’re doing, you might try with one of those hinged nut cracker things, but your hands are probably not going to be strong enough to break the shell without exerting some serious muscle. Then you’ll go for a hammer, which usually sends everything flying and leaves you with a mushed up lump of nut and shell. Not tasty. Biting on a piece of shell will seriously break a tooth. I figured there has to be a better way, so I turned to google and found the “best” way of opening hickory nuts.

Step 1: Gather your equipment. Pocket knife, hammer, nuts.

Step 2: Find the seam. Each nut looks like it has several dividing lines or ridges, but there will be one distinctive line that divides the two hemispheres of the nut. You can see it here running from top to bottom.

Step 3: Line up the blade of your pocket knife with the seam. Make sure you’re on a surface that can absorb the impact, like an old piece of wood or the weird end of your cutting board (I’m not the only one with a “don’t use this end” side, am I?).

Step 4: Hit it with a hammer. Several times if needed. It’ll take a while to get the hang of it. You want to break through the nut without cutting into your board. It actually splits in half pretty easily if you’re following the seam. This can get noisy. So sorry.

Step 5: Your halves are now separated! Now you just have to get out the meat. If you’re lucky, it comes out easily. If you’re not, you’re going to want to use the tip of your pocket knife (and possibly a needle of some sort) to pick out the meat from inside the shell’s crevices.

Step 6: Do that again about a hundred times. In fact, spend all day doing that. Annoy your family members. Make people wish they had ear plugs. Send shell fragments flying. It’ll be worth it.

Step 7: Was it worth it? Sure, they’re delicious, but that seriously took forever. And most of it came out in tiny fragments. That was disappointing.

Step 8: Search Amazon for “hickory nut cracker” and buy the first thing you see. It works. You’re amazed that the shell crumbles instantly, leaving the nut inside almost always intact. You’re happy, but also angry. That was seriously a whole day spent on cracking nuts. Why did initial google results not instantly bring up this $10 wonder machine?

Step 9: Enjoy your spoils. Make muffins or something.

If I were you, I’d skip straight to step 8. You’re welcome.

It’s been a busy couple of weeks! Emmett went back to school (he started kindergarten this year!) and Madeline is so, so, so jealous. She’s so ready for school, but because she’s too young for for real school I decided to start homeschooling her (well, homeschool “lite”). We probably only spend 15-20 minutes per day in actual “school” mode, but we try to review and refer to things we learned in school throughout the day as well. She calls me “Teacher Mom” now. She’s so proud of herself every time she learns something new or accomplishes a task I’ve given her. Oh, and I let her name her school. It’s “Madeline’s sparkly school pink school.” Because of course it is.

Emmett has been enjoying school. He’s making a lot of friends, and I’ve met his 5th grade reading buddy (he usually finds us in the morning to say hi to Em and to tell me about what they read last time). We’ve had a couple of instances where we’re out and about and I hear “Hey! That’s Emmett! He’s in my class! Hi, Emmett!” He’s always eager to be rid of me in the mornings, telling me bye with a “seriously, go away now” voice, while I’m talking to his teacher. Every day when he comes home from school he unpacks his bag and says “I have a present for you, Mom!” while handing me his folders and notebooks. Occasionally he brings home some homework (it’s not a real assignment, usually just a worksheet that the other kids did while Em was pulled out of the regular class). Sometimes he’s tired and cranky after school, but he’s actually usually pretty happy to do homework. He likes to show me that he can do it on his own (though most stuff is done hand-over-hand). Every time he draws a line, counts, or writes a letter correctly he says “Mom! I did it!” with the biggest smile.

As for me, I’m still teaching in the mornings (trying to get in as much as I can before daylight savings hits and I lose an hour – they don’t have that in China, after all), and sometimes in the evenings as well. I’m trying to keep up on housework, but I usually feel like I’m drowning and too tired to keep paddling. Both kids have decided for the most part that they’re done with naps, so my afternoons are usually filled with cranky (but not quite tired) kids, and they’re both usually asleep by 6:30 or 7.

I’ve started on Maddie’s Halloween costume. She’s going to be, as she put it, “a scary, sneaky princess witch,” so I’ve got my work cut out for me. Emmett has been knocking on our bedroom door at 5:00 each morning yelling “Trick or treat!!!”

Most days feel like I’m just barely hanging in there. I’m so, so tired. But I don’t think I’d change anything. I’m slowly but surely purging the house of things we don’t need or use anymore. It’s a good feeling to get the “stuff” out and to make everything a little more simple. The kids are happy to be apart from each other during the day (she cries that she misses her brother, but she’s honestly happier with him out of the house). Emmett is happy to be finally interacting with kids who aren’t his little sister.

Oh, and I keep forgetting to lock the fridge and freezer. I found a gnawed on ham in the living room recently, and she ate a small tub of ice cream for breakfast yesterday. Need to work on that.

Things are good, and the days are somehow too long and too short at the same time. I’m trying to make the most of each day, and am working toward the goal of a clean, organized, happy home. Some days are more successful than others. Ok, so few days are successful, but I keep the goal in mind and keep working toward it. It’s just on the horizon. I know it is.

We now have a nightly ritual. Lock every cabinet, lock every door, turn on door alarms. We run through it like a space shuttle launch countdown. “Front door locked?” “Check.” “Cabinets in the kitchen locked?” “Check” “Sharp objects hidden?” ” Check.”

Just when you think you’ve got it down, they come up with a new way to make you realize you’ve underestimated them. It would be funnier if I didn’t have to spend my morning directing the clean-up efforts. So what did they get into today?

They scooped out a handful of butter from the butter dish. You can see the tiny-fingered scoop marks. They ripped apart a loaf of bread and scattered its contents across the entirety of the house. No couch, blanket, toy bin or crevasse was spared. She even had bread crumbs in her underwear. They found the food dye. They. Found. The. Food. Dye. They opened the microwave, just to prove to me that nowhere is safe (it’s where we’ve been hiding things from them). The bathroom looks like a tree on homecoming weekend. There are tiny football helmets hidden around the living room like Easter eggs. Popsicle sticks are strewn about like leaves in the fall. The dirty laundry is mixed in with the clean laundry. And there’s still frosting in the carpet from yesterday that I need to wash out (I scrubbed and vacuumed, but it’s really in there) – and the frosting is a whole ‘nother story that I don’t have the emotional fortitude to get into right now. In retrospect, I can see that I practically gave them those things by leaving them within reach, but you don’t know what they can do until they do it I guess.

Oh, and they accomplished all that in only 30 minutes.

My morning will be spent making them clean it all up. My afternoon will be spent childproofing the upper half of the kitchen. I need to clean off the top of the fridge so we can use it as our new “save zone,” as that might be the only place left that they can’t reach (yet). Wish me luck (and patience).