Christmas ornaments for kids, preschoolers, and toddlers to make

Christmas is coming.  The goose is getting fat.  I love prepping for Christmas.  Evan and I are brain storming for this year’s ornaments and crafts.  I’m not sure what to do for the families.  Here are some ornaments we made last year.  We had a blast making them.  Depending on the age and the ability of the child will depend on how much work you do.

Mini Christmas Trees

(I remember doing something similar when I was a Brownie in Girl Scouts. It’s an easy, fun, and messy project.  Evan (5) and Sean (3) really enjoyed making them.)

What you need:

Pine cones

Green spray paint

Glue

Glitter

Paper plates

Ribbon

Spray paint pine cones green.  Once the pine cones are dry, pour glue in one paper plate and glitter in another.  Have the child roll the pine cone in the glue and then in the glitter.  Let the pine cone dry.  Glue ribbon to the pine cone to make a loop.  Allow to dry.

Glitter Shells

(I saw this in a Martha Stewart magazine.  The hard part is putting a whole in the shell; you’ll need a drill, preferably a dremel drill.  It was easy to adopt for children.  I’m thinking I want to try other shells this year.  The boys loved making these.  I loved playing with my dad’s dremel drill.  If only I had a real reason to get one.)

Things you need:

Shells (We used clam shells)

Dremel Drill

Glue

Glitter

Paper plates

Tooth pick

Ribbon or string

Drill a hole in the top of the shell.  Have the child dip the shell into the glue.  Have the child cover the shell in glitter.  (We did most shells in one color as well as mixing two colors together to get a neat effect.)  Clear the hole of glue and glitter.  Allow to dry.  Thread the whole with ribbon or string.  Tie the ribbon to make a loop.

Clay Ornaments

(These are so easy, simple, and fun.  Toddlers can even do it.  Now that I think about it, I might have the boys make more this year and work on decorating them in different ways.  The boys had lots of fun.  Keep on eye on these.  They can burn quickly.  Evan prefered the burnt ones.  I was less than thrilled.)

What you need:

Polymer Clay

Something to cut clay in a circle (I used a plastic Easter egg.)

Rubber stamps

Straw

Cookie sheet

Tooth pick

Foil

Ribbon

Have the child knead the clay for at least two minutes.  (For younger children, you may have to work with it too.)  Roll the clay flat to about 1/4″ to 1/2″ thick.  Cut out circles.  Use the straw to cut out a hole in the top.  Have the child press a rubber stamp in to the clay.  On the back of the clay, write the child’s name or initials with the year.  Cover a cookie sheet with foil, and place the ornaments on it.  Bake in an oven or toaster oven as it says on the directions. (275°F for 15 mins.  I think mine baked in 10 mins.)  Let the ornaments cool.  String ornaments with ribbon.

More craft and ornament ideas

Christmas crafts for kids, preschoolers and toddlers part 2

Winter and Christmas Crafts for Toddlers and Children

More Christmas Crafts for Children, Toddlers, and Babies

Christmas Crafts for Kids, Toddlers, and Babies

Words to Live by

I’ve come up with my parenting motto.  I feel like a geek with making up a saying for being a parent, but I found the words to define the kind of parent I want to be.  They just popped in my head while I took a shower.

 

To love unconditionally.

To always be right there in their corner. 

To always get their back.

To separate them from the stupid things they are bound to do.

 

To love unconditionally.   It is a no brainer.  Loving unconditionally is what we should do as parents.  The rest of the motto defines how I plan to love unconditionally. 

To always be right there in their corner.  This means a little more than what most people assume.  While I have known people that have been upset that I didn’t “get their back” and I wasn’t “in their corner,” this phrase doesn’t mean supporting some one right or wrong, no matter what.  It’s a boxing term.  Who is in the boxer’s corner?  His trainer, his manager, his coach.  These people train and teach.  Of course, they encourage, but they also instruct, critique, even fight the boxer to keep the boxer safe by throwing in the towel.  Being in someone’s corner means not only being there for the person but willing to call that person out on the crap that s/he is doing.  That’s the job of a parent.

To always get their back.  Again this doesn’t mean defend someone right or wrong.  It is to defend a person from cheap shots, from people who fight dirty.  It means to try and protect someone where they are most vulnerable.  As parents, we are protectors.

To separate them from the stupid things they are bound to do.  We all do stupid things.  We just usually do them in our youth.  But those stupid things are not us.  They are what we did.  No matter what our kids do, we know that they are who they are, not what they did or will do.

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Another Little Brother

My first clear memory was when I was three, just a handful of months before my fourth birthday.  I caught my parents looking at two plastic bat and ball sets.  I knew I shouldn’t have looked, shouldn’t have been there, but I saw them and ran back to where I was supposed to be.

The next memory was a few days later.  My little brother and I were playing with the bat sets in the backyard of my grandparent’s house.  I had received a red bat and yellow ball; while, my little brother had a yellow bat and a red ball.  We switched balls.  I was always given red things, and my brother always received blue.  I always got the hero action figure, and my little brother always got the side-kick.

I remember throwing the ball up and trying to hit it.  I was wearing a short set, probably pink, though I’m only guessing because of photographs.  I remember we didn’t have much success of hitting the ball. 

Then the memory flash forwards to dinner, just a few hours later.  My grandparents, brother, and I were sitting at the breakfast bar, eating chili, when my dad came into the kitchen door.  He looked tired.  He looked happy.  I remember being excited to see him, yelling daddy from my seat as I couldn’t jump up to hug him as I hadn’t finished my meal and been excused.  He kissed me.  He shot a look at my grandma that I couldn’t interpret at the age.

“You have a new baby brother,” he said.

I was crushed.

I wanted a baby sister, not another brother.  Not another brother.  Later I would learn that my dad had called my grandma earlier that day to give her the good news, which she refused to pass on to me because I was so very certain I would have a baby sister, not another brother.  That was twenty-five years ago today.

The next memory I had was sitting at the dinette table (the one I’m sitting at now), coloring with my little brother and my mom.  I was happily chatting away about something.  I stopped, thinking.  “What’s his name again?” I asked.  My mom sighed and told me.  It wasn’t the first time I had asked, nor was it the last.

But luckily for me, I learned to love the little guy, and after we grew up out of the sibling rivalry crap, we became friends.  I couldn’t ask for a nicer, sweeter baby brother.  Of course, he’s now my Big baby brother. 

As for my just deserts, our family dog has just turned sixteen, and for sixteen years, my brother has accidently called me Athena, instead of my name when he’s in hurry and not thinking.  Pay backs are a bear.

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In the eye of the beholder

When I was a young kid, we went grocery shopping as a family, so that my dad could manage the kids, allowing my mom to accomplish grocery shopping under an hour.  As the eldest, it was my job to try to turn the cart over, demand sugary cereals, and completely ignore my baby brother as he was cursed to be born a boy.  My brothers helped me in my endeavors.  My dad’s main job was to keep us occupied as my mom checked out so that she didn’t have to say, “Don’t touch the candy, don’t touch the candy, don’t touch the candy, no candy, no, no, no.”

 

My dad would take us over to the magazines, pull one out with Bo Derek, Farah Fawcet, or some other starlet on the cover and ask us who it was.  The response was always the same.  “MOMMY!”  When my dad relates the story to others, he always adds that when he would pick up a picture of Tom Selleck, we would yell “Tom Selleck.”  Not quite true, but it makes a great story.

 

***

 

The other day the boys and I were outside playing in my parents’ backyard with my dad, the beloved Papi, when my dad went into his tool room to fix something.  Like little puppies, my boys followed their Papi into a room they aren’t allowed to go in, and I followed to keep them in line. 

On the walls of the tool room are a couple of girly calendars that my brothers and I love to give my dad to annoy my mom and tease my dad over his little “hobby” of taking pictures of women in bikinis when he’s at the beach.  He does this to annoy my mom and exasperate the other women in his life, especially my friends.  (Trust me; it’s his way of having fun and training to be a dirty old man, chasing nurses one day in the old folks’ home.)  One of these calendars is a “The Girls Next Door” calendar as my family rarely missed an episode, especially my brothers and my dad. 

Evan took one look at the picture of Bridget and announced with glee, “GRANDMA!”

Sometimes the apple falls too close to the tree.

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For my brother

So that you can stop asking me what fae actually means and why I named this site fae mom or faemom.

And you know what?  It’s actually in the dictionary as:

noun

a device consisting of a container of fuel and two explosive charges; the first charge bursts open the fuel container at a predetermined height and spreads the fuel in a cloud that mixes with atmospheric oxygen; the second charge detonates the cloud which creates an enormous blast wave and incinerates whatever is below

 

Oh, that’s awesome.  That’s not what I thought fae meant.  My non-reading brother actually got me on this.  So now I’m determined to find a real definition of fae.

But just so we’re all clear on what I thought was the definition.  I believed that fae was a more classic term for faery, and that it also meant the strange, the weird.  Since I am a little strange and weird and I am also a mom, I figured my site would be Fae Mom or faemom. 

But let me let you in on a characteristic quirk of mine.  I hate not knowing something.  I can handle secrets, but I can’t handle not understanding information.  If I don’t know a word, I’ll go look it up.  If I don’t know who that person is, I’ll ask.  Hell, my roommate’s favorite game was “ask roommie what happened in this certain year.”  As I once was a history buff, I would think, not remember, and go online to find out.  She had a sick twisted humor.

So NOW I plan to find out the true definition of fae.

Stupid, smart ass little brother.

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