Decoupaged Boxes

My sister was cleaning out an attic somewhere a while back and came across stacks of local newspapers from  the 50s. Who did she think would want to do some dumpster diving vicariously through her? Me, of course. I've got to admit, I've hardly used any since then, but not because I don't love it. On the contrary, I love it so much that no project seems worthy of using it up. Until now. One of my craft nook ideas was covered boxes. A workplace dumpster dive resulted in five perfect boxes. They were large and shallow - almost like board game boxes, but much sturdier. I mixed up a batch of homemade Mod-Podge and got to work. Using the newspaper like wrapping paper, I smeared glue under and then over it. Once it dried, it held very well, and most wrinkles worked themselves out.

I had planned on putting them back together as boxes with lids for storage, but they looked so adorable I wanted more! I stacked all five bases on one pile and all five lids (very slightly larger) on another. I had to fill them up to the brim to keep them from sliding down inside one another, but I had so many odds and ends to store, that was no problem. Now I have twice the impact, twice the storage, and I love it!

Check out the whole craft nook here.

Linked at Kammy's Korner 

Cute, Almost Free Storage

I've been pining for and pinning craft room ideas for a few years now. I'm proud to say I finally have it. It's more of a corner, really, but I'm in love. And I'll show it all in a few days, but first some of the details.

I have a lot of random craft crap. Some of it is cute, some, not so much. So, for about two years I saved oatmeal containers and spaghetti and baby food jars. The oatmeal containers were simple to transform. I just peeled of the label, added new ones of old newspaper, maps, and scrapbook papers. I decided to make the new labels much smaller to let the Kraft paper-looking cardboard show through.

I also cut circles to fit on the top. I may still add chalkboard labels somewhere, because I crammed so much stuff in those tubs and I already forgot what all's in there.

The jars were probably the biggest hold up. I thought I could remove the sticky label glue with hot water and scrubbing, but that didn't work. I finally discovered dipping them in a pot of boiling vinegar. Worked like a charm. My awesome sister-in-law used her Silhouette machine to cut out cute labels in three different sizes. She used chalkboard Contact paper, so the labels peel off and stick on easy peasy. A whole roll was less than $8 and she made a ton of labels for me and still had paper left for herself (she was eyeing her pantry last we talked)

I spray painted the jar lids red. The baby food jars look great, but the large lids ended up pretty streaky. The unlidded jars look ok, but don't want to deal with dust, and I prefer the jars with lids, so it looks like I'll be hoarding pasta lids again.

And then there are these babies:

I scored them for FREE this summer at the grocery store on a double-fortuitous day. The only problem with these bad boys were that they made the spaghetti jar sticky-stuff removal look like child's play. I'm not really sure what finally did the trick, but it must've been a combination of soaking in hot water, drowning in vegetable oil, smearing peanut butter over the label, then scraping with a spatula, steel wool, my fingernails, and a scrubby sponge. The plastic was a little scratched up after the process, but I labeled the back side, and once I loaded them up you could hardly tell.  

Check out all the other storage in my craft "room" here.

Random Memories

It's been a wild and crazy first three months of school. Life has gone on in a whirlwind, and blogging has been the last thing on my mind. But I jotted down a couple of memories I wanted to preserve and today unearthed them from under a pile of randomness.

Random memory #1:
Sometime in September, Reed and Calvin were deeply immersed in their world of Lego Starwars. In between surprisingly realistic light saber sound effects the boys were trash talking Jedi-style, Reed in a squeaky Yoda voice, and Calvin in a deep warrior tone.

R: Very strong, they are. Fight them, do not.
C: Yoda! You're not our boss!


Random memory #2:
I didn't write the date, but it was apparently a momentous one:

Reed blew his first bubble with bubble gum.
Calvin read his first book.
Max pooped in the potty!

We've had potty training down pat since school started (God bless you, Mrs. Pam!), but we're still on a poop-training roller coaster. We're close though--down to only night-time and nap-time filling of the pants, and no other diapers! Hallelujah!

Oh, What a Night

Have I mentioned that I hate animals? Cuz today reminded me of that little tidbit. I pulled into the driveway to the scene of a loose coonhound chasing chickens and, lying dead on the porch, evidence that she was pretty good at it. Calvin stopped the current chase down with one wild chase down of his own. After unloading and putting away groceries, we commenced to doing farm chores, since Daddy was at his first Cross Country meet and wouldn't be home until after dark. When the boys brought me eight multi-colored eggs from the nesting boxes, I almost forgave the chickens for their transgressions.
Then, we began the impossible task of catching the escaped coon hound so he couldn't take out any more egg-layers.

To make a long story short, we tried, we failed. We tried again. And again. An hour and a half later, Reed, Max and I were loudly yelling, dancing, and driving dump trucks to create a distraction while Calvin, dressed up "as a plant" with leaves on his head, army crawled over toward the cage we'd lured the dog into. He would pause every time she stopped eating our bait and then slither closer. He was almost to his target--the door to the cage--when a dancing dump truck driver moved too closely and spooked her. This was the final attempt. It was 7:35 and we hadn't even had supper yet. So, we trekked inside for quick PBJ and bed time.

I just talked to Ryan on his way home and filled him in on what awaits him. It's 10:00. He's threatening the shotgun for that dog. If I would've known that was a viable option, I coulda saved him some time...

I Mean Business

This post may land me a call to DFS, but if they do take my kids - one in particular - I'm sure it won't take long before they come back apologizing that my actions were completely justifiable.

We were driving home and I was talking to my sister on the phone. When I hit the point of the drive where I lose cell service, I pulled over and put it in park. We were on the rarely-traveled gravel less than a mile from our house. A few members of the peanut gallery began whining that they wanted to go home and how much longer would I be on the phone and why did we have to stop. I warned them to shut up or else please be quiet. Twice. Then, Mr. Wild rudely said, "I wish I could just walk home!" So, I told him to do it. He immediately protested. I insisted he get out of the car, then finished the convo with my sister, which at this point was just me describing what he was doing outside (not walking, btw) and her laughing hysterically. When I hung up, I got out of the van and told him that he would have to walk to the intersection of the next gravel road (about 200 meters ahead) and then he could get in and try again. I drove ahead of him, close enough that he could see me, but far enough that he couldn't trip and get run over by me. He ran frantically, crying the whole way. I was feeling pretty bad when we reached the intersection, because I knew the experience had scared him. When he got in the car, I drove on, giving a gentle explanation of how he had to start listening and obeying and how sometimes mom had to do things to show that she is serious. I apologized for scaring him and summarized by asking, "But you have to know who the boss is. I am the boss. Who is not the boss?" In true form, he replied in a snarky tone, "Max." We were just a hill away from home at this point, so I screeched the brakes and ordered him again, "Get out!" He cried and all-but refused to, but eventually he had no choice. And this is what I watched in my rear view mirror as we creeped over the final hill to our home. Should I have been driving and taking pictures of my terrified tyrant? In the name of future blackmail pictures, I say yes!