Friday, April 22, 2011
Thursday, April 21, 2011
Crafty Kids- Shrinky Dinks!!
If you've never made a shrinky dink before, you are missing out. I made shrinky dinks all throughout my childhood, and I love them. The other day Jesse and I were bored, and I suggested we make shrinky dinks. He looked at me oddly and said, "Shrinky... what??" Alas! He had no idea what a shrinky dink was!! This had to be remedied.
So today I went out and bought sandpaper. (I also bought him sushi for dinner, which was ultra handy because the plastic lids from takeout containers are ideal for shrinky dinks) He used the lid from The Bean's birthday cake, and I used the lid from the sushi.
You'll Need:
Scissors
Colored pencils
Flat #6 plastic, usually found on takeout lids from delis and restaurants (#6 works the best, #1 also works, but it's thinner and shrinks less. #5... well, don't use that one)
Foil
Sandpaper (we used 80 grit and it worked perfectly. It needs to be relatively rough)
Access to an oven
Tongs
Instructions:
- Pre-heat oven to 325 degrees F. and set your oven rack to the lowest position.
- Wash your plastic pieces, especially if they were used for food.
- Cut out shapes with the scissors (remember, if you cut a hole for string, the hole will shrink too!!)
- Sand the plastic pieces on one side, making sure to get all of it rough. The colored pencils won't stick if there aren't a lot of grooves.
- Color the pieces on the rough side however you'd like. You can trace shapes and characters from coloring books if you don't want to freehand.
- Make a tray out of foil to set your plastic pieces on
- Put your shrinky dink on the foil tray and put it in the oven
- Watch it! It will shrink quickly. Don't worry when it starts to curl, it will curl a LOT but then it will flatten out all by itself.
- Once it's flat (or close to flat) remove the tray from the oven with the tongs. You then have about 10 seconds to shape or flatten it before it sets completely.
- Let it cool, and enjoy. :)
So today I went out and bought sandpaper. (I also bought him sushi for dinner, which was ultra handy because the plastic lids from takeout containers are ideal for shrinky dinks) He used the lid from The Bean's birthday cake, and I used the lid from the sushi.
You'll Need:
Scissors
Colored pencils
Flat #6 plastic, usually found on takeout lids from delis and restaurants (#6 works the best, #1 also works, but it's thinner and shrinks less. #5... well, don't use that one)
Foil
Sandpaper (we used 80 grit and it worked perfectly. It needs to be relatively rough)
Access to an oven
Tongs
(click the images for a larger view)
Instructions:
- Pre-heat oven to 325 degrees F. and set your oven rack to the lowest position.
- Wash your plastic pieces, especially if they were used for food.
- Cut out shapes with the scissors (remember, if you cut a hole for string, the hole will shrink too!!)
- Sand the plastic pieces on one side, making sure to get all of it rough. The colored pencils won't stick if there aren't a lot of grooves.
- Color the pieces on the rough side however you'd like. You can trace shapes and characters from coloring books if you don't want to freehand.
- Make a tray out of foil to set your plastic pieces on
- Put your shrinky dink on the foil tray and put it in the oven
- Watch it! It will shrink quickly. Don't worry when it starts to curl, it will curl a LOT but then it will flatten out all by itself.
- Once it's flat (or close to flat) remove the tray from the oven with the tongs. You then have about 10 seconds to shape or flatten it before it sets completely.
- Let it cool, and enjoy. :)
I used this sticker to trace my shrinky dink. (I used #6 plastic, see how much it shrunk!)
My monkey and two of Jesse's guitar picks.
#5 plastic... yeah. Not the best.
Another one of Jesse's guitar picks. He let it bake a little bit extra so that it turned white.
Note- This is an activity that requires adult participation. Ovens and scissors.. oh my!
Sunday, April 10, 2011
Happy Birthday, Bean!
That's right! Today is The Bean's big number 1! So far he's eaten strawberries and toast for breakfast, played and giggled with his brother, and is now taking a nap. After naps we plan to go to the store and buy a cake, then take it to Daddy's work for a little birthday party. I'm going to bake a cake for our "at home" party tomorrow. :)
It's so amazing to me that it's already been a year. It's gone by so very fast. Hard to believe this time last year I was at the hospital, a pitocin drip in my arm and moaning in pain, waiting for my baby boy to make his appearance.
Is it just me, or is all that pain a fond memory now? Maybe I'm crazy, but I kind of love all the excitement of going to the hospital and having a baby. It's excruciatingly painful (I haven't forgotten that!!) but there's so much joy, so much wonder... I can't help but feel nostalgic. I remember that as soon as he was born I couldn't stop exclaiming, "There's my boy!! That's my boy!! There's my boy!!" Over and over. It was just amazing.
It's so strange, being pregnant. Knowing there's this little, precious life inside of you. You feel connected to that life, you're already providing for it, loving and caring. But you don't even know what that little baby looks like. It's so wonderful to finally meet that little bundle of sweetness. To see him for the first time, to confirm that that bulge in your abdomen is really and truly a life. An entire person, with fingers and toes and arms and legs and a beating heart. It's surreal. Astounding. Suddenly you understand why pregnancy was so exhausting- you were making a person!!! It's real. He's real.
I had this "He's real!" epiphany with both of my boys. But neither time was I afraid. I was in awe. Life is so big, so wonderful, and I'm now a part of the creation of life. That's.... huge.
I have no idea what's in store for my boys. Maybe The Bean will be a zoologist, an accountant, a taxi driver, a writer, an architect or a plumber. Maybe he'll be none of those things. It doesn't matter to me. What does matter to me is that he's loving, compassionate, and respectful. He's only a year old, but the possibilities for his life are vast. And isn't that just great? Who knows how many people's life he'll change, what he'll accomplish.
As this first year of his life concludes, I'm looking back at all of the milestones he's hit and I'm just filled with happiness. He's experienced so much in such a short time. But he has so much more to experience!! I'm sad that this past year went by so fast, but I'm looking forward to what's to come. He's my Bean, and I'm so happy to get to watch him grow.
It's so amazing to me that it's already been a year. It's gone by so very fast. Hard to believe this time last year I was at the hospital, a pitocin drip in my arm and moaning in pain, waiting for my baby boy to make his appearance.
Is it just me, or is all that pain a fond memory now? Maybe I'm crazy, but I kind of love all the excitement of going to the hospital and having a baby. It's excruciatingly painful (I haven't forgotten that!!) but there's so much joy, so much wonder... I can't help but feel nostalgic. I remember that as soon as he was born I couldn't stop exclaiming, "There's my boy!! That's my boy!! There's my boy!!" Over and over. It was just amazing.
It's so strange, being pregnant. Knowing there's this little, precious life inside of you. You feel connected to that life, you're already providing for it, loving and caring. But you don't even know what that little baby looks like. It's so wonderful to finally meet that little bundle of sweetness. To see him for the first time, to confirm that that bulge in your abdomen is really and truly a life. An entire person, with fingers and toes and arms and legs and a beating heart. It's surreal. Astounding. Suddenly you understand why pregnancy was so exhausting- you were making a person!!! It's real. He's real.
I had this "He's real!" epiphany with both of my boys. But neither time was I afraid. I was in awe. Life is so big, so wonderful, and I'm now a part of the creation of life. That's.... huge.
I have no idea what's in store for my boys. Maybe The Bean will be a zoologist, an accountant, a taxi driver, a writer, an architect or a plumber. Maybe he'll be none of those things. It doesn't matter to me. What does matter to me is that he's loving, compassionate, and respectful. He's only a year old, but the possibilities for his life are vast. And isn't that just great? Who knows how many people's life he'll change, what he'll accomplish.
As this first year of his life concludes, I'm looking back at all of the milestones he's hit and I'm just filled with happiness. He's experienced so much in such a short time. But he has so much more to experience!! I'm sad that this past year went by so fast, but I'm looking forward to what's to come. He's my Bean, and I'm so happy to get to watch him grow.
Monday, April 4, 2011
Different Drums
Different Drums and Different Drummers, by David Keirsey and Marilyn Bates.
If I do not want what you want, please try not to tell me that my want is wrong.
Or if I believe other than you, at least pause before you correct my view.
Or if my emotion is less than yours, or more, given the same circumstances, try not to ask me to feel more strongly or weakly.
Or yet if I act, or fail to act, in the manner of your design for action, let me be.
I do not, for the moment at least, ask you to understand me. That will come only when you are willing to give up changing me into a copy of you.
I may be your spouse, your parent, your offspring, your friend, or your colleague. If you will allow me any of my own wants, or emotions, or beliefs, or actions, then you open yourself, so that some day these ways of mine might not seem so wrong, and might finally appear to you as right- for me. Not that you embrace my ways as right for you, but that you are no longer irritated or disappointed with me for my seeming waywardness. And in understanding me you might come to prize my differences from you, and, far from seeking to change me, preserve and even nurture those differences.
If I do not want what you want, please try not to tell me that my want is wrong.
Or if I believe other than you, at least pause before you correct my view.
Or if my emotion is less than yours, or more, given the same circumstances, try not to ask me to feel more strongly or weakly.
Or yet if I act, or fail to act, in the manner of your design for action, let me be.
I do not, for the moment at least, ask you to understand me. That will come only when you are willing to give up changing me into a copy of you.
I may be your spouse, your parent, your offspring, your friend, or your colleague. If you will allow me any of my own wants, or emotions, or beliefs, or actions, then you open yourself, so that some day these ways of mine might not seem so wrong, and might finally appear to you as right- for me. Not that you embrace my ways as right for you, but that you are no longer irritated or disappointed with me for my seeming waywardness. And in understanding me you might come to prize my differences from you, and, far from seeking to change me, preserve and even nurture those differences.
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