The Weekender...

Wow, if only.  A weekend getaway for me and hubster is virtually non-existent.  It doesn't help that I'm hopelessly in love with my little babies and have severe anxiety whenever I leave them for too long.  Uhg.  Such a dilemma.  I want a break but then when I'm able to get one I'm sick with worry and it ruins my break.  Shoot.  If my kids weren't so stinkin' cute and loveable

 

 

I wouldn't mind a three day weekend.  But I love these little rascals toooo much.  So, for now my "getaways" are limited to about three hours at a time about six months apart when I find a babysitter and some spare time between D's schooling and church activities.

And then, sometimes, duty calls and I have to answer like a good little grown up.  I'm the youth leader at our church and there is going to be a lock-in in a town, FOUR HOURS AWAY, and I'm going.  I'm going, the babies are staying and so is a piece of my heart.  *groan*

 Which brings me to my next dilemma, a bag to hold all of my stuff.  Stuff and stuff and no where to put it.  I've been looking for a while and man, the prices are so varied it's hard to choose between price, efficiency and quality.  You know that if you're going to spend $20 on something like this:

most likely you're going to not have the luxuries a bag twice as much would have like this:

*sigh* But all common sense and rational aside I think this is definitely something D and I would look good carrying on a short two day vacay to the city... (budgeting furiously)

What does it take to make a Russian smile...

For this Russian it doesn't take much at all...as a matter of fact, I'm hard pressed to get a photo of us where he's not goofing off...  case in point:

 

Yes, I thought I had this one in the bag.  See, I usually count to two and then I take the picture...hoping to get him before he goofs... *grumble*

So, take two:

 

Not much better...he got me laughing at his silliness

Take three:

 

Now, THAT is more like it.  Thanks, hunny.

But, after all that, it got me in the silly mood.

 

  

  

I love you, Mr. David Kelbatyrov.

Building little brains

It's very hard.  For me.  Maybe not for the teacher at heart but for this flighty minded momma, teaching my baby boy has come as somewhat of a test for me.  I do it.  But I'm not as diligent as I should be. 

Wow, I feel like I'm in confessional or something. 

 
We do the alphabet in Russian, we count in Russian, we do mind building skills in Russian and I do a little bit of American alphabet on the side.  I'm not so concerned there, because he is surrounded by so much English that it won't take him but a minute to master the basics.  For now, I'm really honing in on his Russian.  And as soon as I can, I will make sure to enroll him in Russian school.  Of course, this will have to happen after we move back to Cali because we're currently living where no such thing exists. 

However, in spite of the fact I'm struggling to stay consistent, I can count on little bursts of inspiration from watching Romalise as she tries to say the alphabet with Cylas and I.  And then, during the day, I'll hear Cylas mumbling the alphabet to himself.  I've even caught him trying to teach Roma.  Man, that makes me feel so good.  If you've ever been to our place, you'll know that I'm big on educational, teaching toys.  Almost all of the toys my babies have help with any number of rudimentary skills.  D and I have never been big on buying junk.  Everything has a purpose.   Our aim is to create a fun atmosphere for learning.  I think it's working.

 

Cy and I have a lot of fun practicing his drills.  His attention span runs about as long as a firefly's lighted rear-end, but I'm working on that.  

Let's have it for persevering and determination.  (don't give up, don't give up)

Sew what?

  Learning to sew has been a recent endeavor of mine and I have devoured every minute of it.  It's a wonderful 90 min every Saturday morning.  And it makes my week end with a smiley face.  See, I was put into contact with this wonderful lady named, Ethel, through another sweet lady named Ada.  Both are Mennonite.   And how I met Ada is another story.  Either way, the result of these connections has brought me nothing more than pure joy and bursts of creativity.    Over the course of a month, Ethel has taught me how to make my way around a machine.  She started with teaching me how to thread it.  Pretty basic.  And then we made a skirt (for practice and I would NEVER be caught dead in it).  Next, she challenged me to make my own pattern.  Ok, well, I had an idea for what I wanted.  I had bought Romalise a super cute summer dress and when I went to try it on her...it wouldn't FIT...over her rather large noggin (THANK you David Kelbatyrov).

                                             This is Ethel helping me get a handle on a few of the particulars

 

This photo above has the dress that I'm trying to recreate.  It's too cute for words.  And secretly I want to make one just my size so I can match my little cutie patootie.  Now, sewing doesn't come to me naturally and neither do super creative, innovative ideas for outfits.  I'm the type of person who sees something I really like and then I recreate my own rendition.  Yeah, real original.  It's like I have to jump-start my artsy-fartsy-ness.  Thank. you, hole in my brain.  That aside, I've managed to stay afloat. 

This is only the beginning, folks.  I, unfortunately, wield a pen like two fingered cyclops and, therefore, can't draw for the life of me, so all of my creations are trapped inside my brain.  I tried the other night to sketch a skirt that I want to make...FAIL.  Miserable fail.  Oh well, I tried.  Maybe I can turn my ever so talented husband into my very own sketch artist.  You know like the ones they have do mock drawings of criminals for people trying to remember who they saw commit....I digress.

  So, the dress, at this point looks something like this:

 

Now, it's not done, mind you, but I will be sure to post a picture of my little girl wearing it as soon as the last stitch is closed.  For sure.