Thursday, May 25, 2017

These Are My Confessions

I feel like I'm about to confess to a murder.  I promise you, I'm not.  That would really make this post interesting though, wouldn't it?  In "mommy world", I sure feel like this confession puts me right up there with jailbird Martha Stewart.  Only, I haven't committed tax fraud either.

For the past 7 years on this blog I have shared DIY projects, baking debacles, elaborate holiday celebrations.  I even once shared a post with feline shaped cookies where we forced a party hat on our less-than-thrilled cat and celebrated his 1st birthday.  Poor Belmont.  May he rest in peace.

Almost every one of these posts has revolved around my children in some one form or another.  I think for the most part, I do a pretty good job of enjoying my children. I do love my children. Most days I even really like them.  I find them funny and charming.  I have three of them and I chose to have them so... that says something positive, right?

But guys, here it is... here is the honest to God truth...

I hate, loathe, despise and want to murder Summer break.  Can you murder Summer break?  Is that even a thing? 

Because I totally want to do it

I am less than 24 hours into Summer Break and I have chosen to vacation at the nearest Whole Foods. I strategically chose this spot because I can be in a setting that makes me feel "semi" more adultish, they provide new and interesting toys for my child and an abundance of coffee and overpriced cake for myself.

Yes, cake for breakfast.  This is how I self soothe.  Go ahead, judge away. 

As I type this I find myself methodically pushing a stroller with one foot, sleeping baby in tow, while plastic play food is shoved at my face every 12 seconds by my now graduated pre-schooler who wants me to pretend to eat plastic bell peppers. 

This is going to sound incredibly pathetic. But this morning I cried.

Summer break has been quickly approaching. Coming like a hurricane, swirling and whirling as it looms ominously in the sky, threatening destruction.

And I cried at this thought. 

I don't know what this says about me, guys.

I cried at the thought of 16 hour days where I am forced to answer hundreds of repetitive questions like, "Do Ninja Turtles have penises?" and "Can you make Barbie Big Boobs talk?"

The endless bickering, the whiney proclamations of, "I'm borrred..." And, quite possibly the worst...

The look.  The one where their eyes get big and wide and they stare blankly at me as if every ounce of creativity has left their little bodies.

The look they give as if to ask, "How are you going to entertain us today, mom?" 

It's like the look of death

When Mackenzie started Kindergarten several years ago I discovered something.  I am a better mom when she is in school.  And now, I've discovered it yet again. I am a better mom when BOTH of my kids are in school. And I have zero ounces of shame in admitting this.  Zero.  I like my kids better when someone else is caring for them.

I get a chance to miss them.  When they come around again, I'm actually excited to see their squishy faces.  I hug them, I slobber kisses all over them and I realize -- wow, I generally like these kids again!

But Summer Break, you destroy all notions of me missing my children.  You stick me in a tiny, humid house and make me want to hide in a closet with allll the Sangria, while my tiny humans parent the heck out of themselves. 

Ohhh, that thought alone almost, AMOST makes me smile.

Today is officially Day 1.  And I feel like the first step to recovering from Summer Breakitis is to admit that I have a problem. 

So here I sit, foot officially numb from the back and forth of the stroller, confessing to you my dirty secret. 

My preschooler just shoved a pear at my eye and said, "Mom!  You wanna look inside of it?!?" 


No, Levi.  I actually do not want to look inside of the plastic pear. 

But I'm a mom.  I'm a good mom.  So that's what I'll do.  I look inside of the plastic pear and pretend to be remotely interested. 

And that's what I'm going to do the rest of the whole dang Summer.  I'm going to pretend I'm remotely interested. 

I'm going to don my mom bathing suit and suck in my postpartum jiggly belly while I chase my kids around swimming pools and splash pads.

I'm going to serve popsicles loaded with sugar and red food coloring (or is it green?) and then watch as they bounce like hooligans off the walls of my home and get their sticky hands on my furniture.

I will plaster on a giant smile.  I might even adjust my attitude sometime around mid July after the fireworks have been lit and the garden veggies have started to sprout. 

You might even see photos of me enjoying summer break with my three tiny humans, eating the popsicles with them and traipsing around Colorado together.

But please know... when August 23rd rolls around and it's time to start spending exorbitant amounts of money on school supplies and tacky backpacks...

I, my friends, will be in my happy place.
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Sunday, May 14, 2017

The World Spins Madly On

One of my favorite authors Mandy Arioto once said, "Words have heart beats". Isn't it so true that often in life, a song, a poem or a line from a book can just reach out and shake us to the core? Often times we think incredulously, "Why didn't I write that?"

Each Mother's Day and on hard days when I'm thinking of the babies we will never meet this side of heaven, I turn on the song "World Spins Madly On" by the Weepies. I take some time alone and I allow myself to grieve what has been lost.

For those of us who have healthy living babies, rainbow babies and hope babies, there are still parts of the heart that ache.

A momma never forgets.

"I let the day go by, I always say goodbye.

I watch the stars from my window sill, the whole world is moving and I'm still standing still.

I thought of you and where you'd gone and the world spins madly on."

"The world spins madly on."

This is how I felt in the days after our losses when grief was most intense. It's how I felt month after month while trying to conceive again. It's how I feel now in moments when I wonder what my babies would have looked like, when their due dates pass or when I think about the birthdays they should be celebrating.

The hardest part of grieving for me was to know that life was moving on around me while I just couldn't seem to move. Friends and family members naturally heal, they keep walking forward and many forget. And truly, that's okay.

But for the momma who has experienced the loss of a pregnancy or a child, the world really just seems to stop in it's tracks. Grief can feel so paralyzing.

So today sweet momma, if this is you, I hope you let yourself remember. I hope you'll turn on the song that gets the tears flowing and allows you to grieve.

Let your grief be holy. Let it be an act of worship to the one who created your little one. He does nothing whimsically. He has not forgotten.

The world may be spinning madly on around you, but on this day, on Mother's Day, for a moment, for an hour or for many, just let the world stand still.

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Friday, May 12, 2017

What I Really Want for Mother's Day

While standing in line at Jo-Ann Fabrics yesterday, my three year old son wandered off to a display bin near the registers. He pulled out a plastic "Ninja Turtles" ball and proudly announced, "Mom! THIS is what I want for Mother's Day!" The other moms in line all around us began to giggle.

I must add, Levi's gift proclamation was made even more humorous given that he was wearing two of my can openers. Yes, you did read that correctly -- CAN OPENERS... one in each pocket, because he determined early on in the day that they looked like the nun chucks that the Ninjas use to battle their enemies.

I leaned down to Levi and said, "Babe, I love your ball but do you know why we celebrate
Mother's Day? It's not for Levi. It's for mommas, to thank them for how hard they work." He looked at me puzzled and then said with a big grin, "Oh. Okay, well which Ninja Turtle ball would YOU like for Mother's Day?" Immediately, more laughs from our growing audience. At this moment he decided to ham it up by pulling out his nun chucks (ahem... can openers), and demonstrate his ninja moves for all to see. I just held my head in my hands and rolled my eyes. This is my son, friends. My husband and I just don't make quiet, boring children. 

Levi's gift idea got my thoughts rolling. What would I really and truly like for Mother's Day?

I love fresh flowers but they die. I like clothes but I'm currently in between sizes as I try to shed the last pounds of Evie weight. Throughout the afternoon my thoughts evolved into more practical ideas.


I want that gigantic mountain of laundry finally folded for Mother's Day. Having a constantly nursing baby makes folding laundry near impossible. I'm not kidding when I tell you that the pile has been growing for 8 weeks and we've all just waved our collective white flags as we wade through the sea of laundry each morning for clean (ish) clothes. 

Maybe I could just ask for a house cleaner to deep clean my house. Because again.... nursing baby. 

By the end of the day, as I surveyed my home  -- messy kitchen table, counters piled high with dishes, shoes falling out of the front coat closet, I had finally decided.

What I want for Mother's Day is ... more time. 

"Oh how sweet. She's being sentimental. She wants more time with her quickly growing babies". 


I want more time in the day. More hours. More energy to go with those extra hours.

Right now all the Mommas in the world are out there raising praise hands. 

When I think about the 24 hour day that we as Mommas have, the irreverent part of me wonders, "Was the Lord really thinking of mothers when he designed the 24 hour day?" 

As a mother and a woman, I am constantly faced with choices. Do I clean the kitchen? Or take a nice relaxing bath?

Nope, not enough time for that. The dishes won't clean themselves. 

Do I work on the project I've been eyeing on Pinterest? Or do I actually use the sleeping baby time to fold my mountain of laundry? I usually choose to tackle a small hill of the laundry before the baby wakes. 

Do I write the blog post, read the book, paint my nails?

Nope. Nope. And Nope.

In fact, I am currently typing this for you on my husband's iPhone during a 3 a.m. feeding because I know I won't find or make time later in the day while chasing around three kids. 

Last night my eagerness finally got the best of me and I chose to do the DIY project instead of cleaning after putting the kids to bed. While bouncing my nap boycotting baby on one knee, I painted and glued and beaded.  Then I passed out exhausted in bed with my nursing baby. 

But of course, 3 a.m. rolled around and as I shuffled through my kitchen for our nightly feeding, my eyes canvased the forgotten counters piled high with dishes and the messy table unprepared for the morning's breakfast. 

Good heavens. All I freaking want is more time.

More time to take the bath, to read the book, to do the nails, to do the DIY project. Because truly, in the season I am in now, you really don't get both. Or at least I haven't quite mastered how yet. 

I've basically resigned myself to the fact that if I choose "me time", my home looks like a burglar broke in and ransacked the place. 

If I choose to take a shower, my children get frozen waffles for breakfast.  If I choose to make the pancakes and give up the shower, then inevitably, I look like a homeless person all day. 

I can't have my pancakes and eat them too. Only I really do love pancakes. And I really do love the clean feeling of no spit up in my hair. 

I'm fairly certain that when I wake up Sunday morning, there are still going to be 24 hours in my day. I may get that bath and some wine to go with it. I may get a new can opener since mine has been stolen by my tiny human.  I may also get a ninja turtle ball -- a Michelangelo one, because he's my favorite turtle.

My Mother's Day will end with the age old mom question "how do I do alllll the things in 24 hours?" 

The truth is, I don't. And that's okay. It's about lowering expectations, making sacrifices and compromises. It's about having a servant's heart.  It's about accepting the messy and the chaos in a season of raising babes. It's realizing that as Mommas, we're all on this journey together with messy homes and frazzled schedules and big, full hearts. But we can still dare to dream that maybe, possibly, someday we will master how to do self care well while also managing our homes like pros. 

Picture credit to Chesney Louie Photography
BUT until then, I'll continue to share my thoughts, 3 a.m. blinking on the clock and a sleepy nursing babe in my arms. 

What about you sweet momma? What do YOU want for Mother's Day this year? 
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Wednesday, May 10, 2017

Reindeer Pajamas & Giant Lattes

I’m sitting here, hiding.  I’m in my husband’s reindeer Christmas pajama pants and a Grande Starbucks Vanilla Latte in my hands.  I woke up to kitchen counters piled high with yesterday’s dishes and a dining room still in-swept and un-mopped.  My daughter’s school projects invading the space of our kitchen table. 

I pick up my phone as I am wading through all of the early morning mess.  A text message lights up my phone, signifying that it has come through sometime during the night from a friend.

“Perhaps Jesus will return tonight. Gooood Laaaawd.  We have walked and bounced and driven and rocked and swayed and begged.  Four hours and counting.”

I read these words and sleepily shuffled my way back through the kitchen.  My eyes, once again scanning yesterday’s chaos.

And suddenly, it all just seems to be too much. 

In that moment, tears well up in my eyes.  My throat tightens and I begin to feel an almost frantic sense coming over me.  I need air. A space to breathe and think.  I grab my keys and sneak out the front door to my car.  The six o’clock morning sun is just beginning to rise east of the Denver skyline.  I begin to drive.

In my head, I am justifying my eclectic choice of clothing.

“What if you get pulled over, Brittany?  What if, God Forbid, you have to get out of the car?  You are wearing a baggy t-shirt, no bra and your husband’s red flannel Christmas pajamas.  With reindeer on them for heaven’s sake.  What if someone sees you?"

“Who are you kidding?  No one sees you.”

And there it is.  That sneaky little lie that I’ve been working so hard to fight against. 

No one sees you. 

No one sees you as you are packing lunches and taking care to make sure all the food groups are represented.

No one sees you as you are digging through that giant pile of socks, searching for the lost prodigal.  

No one sees you as you are on your knees scrubbing filth and the smell of urine from around the toilet from your potty training little man.    

No one sees you as are rocking your feverish, inconsolable babe at 3 a.m.

No one sees you while you are on the phone making dentist appointments and negotiating medical bills. 

No one sees as you are signing kids up for summer camp.

Buying flowers for teacher appreciation week.

Scouring the internet for the best prices on vitamins.

Cutting up veggies for dinner (that no one will likely eat).

Stripping bedsheets to be washed.

Feeding the bunnies. (Yes, we have three and I still don’t know why).

Boiling the family toothbrushes.

            Ransacking the home for the lost toy that caused the morning’s preschooler meltdown…

No one sees me holed up in my car, in an empty parking lot wearing goofy pajamas and inhaling coffee like an addict.

I’m sure you could add your own “No one sees me…” to this long list.  Am I right?

This bold faced lie.  It’s been one I’ve been challenging for some time now.  If I could stand face to face with Satan, I would spit in his face.  Because this lie is one that is pervading the hearts of women everywhere and he’s so darn proud of himself. 

This lie is what paralyzes us.  It makes us feel less than. 
While our husbands are out making an income (seemingly doing something more important), we spend our days negotiating with tiny humans over whether they should wear pants into the grocery store.  Yes, I have actually had this argument with my preschooler. 
But, I digress...

The truth is, this lie against our identity didn’t just start the second the lines on the stick turned pink.  This lie that tells us we aren’t seen, heard or really known isn’t actually a lie just for mommas.  It is a lie for all of humanity.

It started as a whisper when you were a child.  And the lie continued to grow.  You began to hide your flaws and shame while learning to overcompensate through perfectionism.  Now, even as an adult, this lie crosses the sacred boundaries of marriage, families and friendships. 

I single out mommas, because I believe that often times, it is motherhood that shines the light on the lies we’ve been believing our whole lives.  At least that is what it has done for me.

It is through our children that we often realize the inconsistencies and the healing that must take place for us to return to the whole and unbroken identity that God truly desires for us to find in Him.  We look at our children and we see a wholeness and a purity that hasn’t been marred yet.    

And then we bravely begin to dream that we can believe this truth for ourselves.

What is this truth?  God sees. 
It's so simple and yet so incredibly complicated.  Because God sees.  But we don't believe it.
If you want proof, go open your Bible to Genesis 16.  You'll read of Hagar who was Abram and Sarai's slave girl.  She has been essentially forced into an affair so that Sarai can finally have a child.  She's been abused for years.  To all who know her, Hagar's life is worthless and insignificant.  So she runs away and finds herself lost and desperate in the middle of a desert.  Then, the miracle happens.  When all looks hopeless and desolate, God shows up.  He meets her in the desert at a well of water and it is here that Hagar does something unprecedented. 
It is the only place in the Bible that anyone ever gives God a name. 

She names Him, "El Roi, the God who sees me."

Hagar, a lowly, Egyptian slave girl who is pregnant and essentially homeless, has the audacity to name the God of the Universe and to claim that He sees her. 

The first time I heard this story, I sobbed uncontrollably-- one of those embarrassing ugly cries that you really and truly do wish that no one else sees.  How is it possible that as a 30-year-old, I had never been told that God sees me? 

This same God who met Hagar in her most broken state, loves me in all of my shame and brokenness. 

He loves the little girl parts of Brittany that still hide behind insecurity.  He loves momma Brittany who hides in her pantry and devours chocolate and wine on the hardest days of parenting. 

And so, sweet friends, if you are still reading this post...

I want to share with you something that has been on my heart for the past year.  It's not something I have shared with many because sometimes I can still hardly believe it myself. 
I am writing a book.  I am writing a book!
And, I'm finally feeling brave enough to share this news with you.
The book is called "Seen" and it is about all of the truths God has been revealing about my identity since becoming a momma.  
"Seen" is based off of the passage from Genesis 16 and Hagar's story but it will delve into how God desires for each of us to recognize that we  are seen in more specific areas like our childhoods, friendships, marriages, motherhood and grief. 
Friends, I am so incredibly excited to share this news with you.  It's been something I've been keeping (mostly) to myself for the past year and I believe it's finally time for me to start sharing pieces of my story. 
This book began one day last year, while sitting in an empty parking lot, wearing my husband's reindeer Christmas pajamas.  And now, I'm finally ready to share some of the healing God has been doing in my life. 
I am daring to believe that He has healing in store for you too! I hope you will join me on this journey of learning to believe that you are know, loved and truly seen.
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Tuesday, March 21, 2017

And Then There Were Five

Our precious girl is here! arriving February 1st at 40 weeks and 4 days! Yes, I know that this news is a bit late but we've been busy with lots of newborn snuggles and trying to figure out this whole crazy life with three kids thing.  And yes... it HAS been a bit crazy. 

One of the things I love about birth is how unique each baby's birth story is. 

Our oldest Mackenzie was a scheduled C-section at 39 weeks because she was our "upside down" baby. 

Levi was born 2 weeks late and after 54 hours of labor. 

And, sweet miss Evie was born after 9 hours of labor and boy did she give us quite the scare towards the end. 

The last hour of labor her heart rate plummeted out of nowhere.  Just as I thought I was about to get a reprieve from some intense contractions & a nap, multiple nurses flew into our room placing oxygen on me, a fetal heart rate monitor was inserted and put on Evie's head and a newborn warming cart was rolled quickly into our delivery room.  Evie came fast after just three pushes! 

At 7 lbs 9 oz and a cute little blonde mullet just like her big sister was born with, Evelyn was named to honor great, great grandma Evelyn Carlson. 

At 8 weeks old now, Evie has been my quickest baby to master breastfeeding and she's sleeping like a champ with most nights giving us 5-7 hr stretches of sleep. 

{If blogging had emojis, here's where I would insert the praise hands!}

Evie is truly the most darling baby.  She is already giving us the biggest smiles.  She loves to snuggle and would be content sleeping on my chest all day and all night if I let her... & I do try to let her as much as possible.  These days are flying way too fast and I'm just not ready to let this sweet girl grow up too soon! 

Here's a peek at our lifestyle newborn photography session with Chesney Louie photography -- taken when Evie was 10 days old. Friends, if you are in the Denver area I just can't praise Chesney enough!  She is a friend from the second you meet her and my goodness she has such a gift!

Thank you Chesney for capturing these moments for our family! What a gift!
To read more about Evie's story, head on over to I Am Fruitful!
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Tuesday, January 31, 2017

Someday Baby -- Hope & Joy in the Waiting

As we've been anticipating the coming (and passing) of another Baker Baby due date (because my babies don't ever come "on time"), I recalled back to a letter that I wrote our baby long before he or she was growing inside of me.  It was a letter I wrote in the waiting, back in the fall of 2015

And oddly enough, here I am, still waiting.  Now though, I am waiting on the any minute arrival of this wiggle worm who has been taking up residence beneath my heart for the past 9 + months.  As I read this letter today for the first time in over a year, I cried.  And I smiled. I cried because the waiting has been so incredibly hard.  But I smiled because I wouldn't have traded the waiting for anything. 

I know that sounds so cliché.  But it's so true.  It's been through this waiting, this longing, to see LIFE come to our home again, that Jesus has given me a deeper understanding of what it means to be hopeful in BOTH the earthly desires and gifts we pray for but also for far more than that... 

I have gained a greater depth and understanding of what it means to HOPE for Jesus and to wait in expectancy for eternity, for the restoration of pain and suffering and to see the beauty made from ashes in the GREATEST way possible.  Oh, how my heart longs for the day that I can meet Jesus and rest fully in HIM. 
“Do you not see how necessary a world of pains and troubles is to school an intelligence and make it a soul?”   - John Keats
I would encourage each of you mommas who finds herself in the earthly waiting for another child, to write.  Whether this baby is to come biologically, through fostering or adoption.  Whether you've had repeated miscarriages or been told there is, "no hope".  There is ALWAYS hope, even if it doesn't manifest in the time or fashion that we in our humanness have envisioned.

 "Hope deferred makes the heart sick but a longing fulfilled is a tree of life." 

- Proverbs 13:12

As the waiting continues over the next week or so and I anticipate the imminent arrival of our new son or daughter, I find peace in knowing that God's timing is sovereign.  The waiting is NEVER without a purpose.  I can smile to every family member, friend and perfect stranger who stares at my giant belly and asks, "Still pregnant?"  Yes.  Yes, for now I still am. And, God, in His wisdom has chosen the exact moment that our family will welcome our newest member.  I will rest in knowing that,  just as we've waited for years now to meet this little life, the extra minutes I'm waiting on are purposeful and intentional even if I don't always understand "the why". 

Dear Someday Baby,

 We haven’t met yet but I’ve been dreaming of you for a long time. 
Two years, four months and four days to be exact.  The day your big brother was born I told your daddy that I couldn’t wait to meet you.  Some might laugh and tell me that I should have been enjoying myself in the moment, that I had my hands full enough. 

But the truth is, even then I knewI knew that our little family wasn’t yet complete.  And every day since then I have thought of you, prayed for you, hoped for you.  When I watch your older sister and brother playing together in the sunlight of our living room, I ache for you because I know that there’s a heartbeat of our family still absent. 

When I find your sister reading to your brother, all snuggled together under the covers, I smile.  But behind that smile is a whole lot of yearning and wondering when you will finally be here with us. 

I wonder when you will join in on our story times and giggle at all of Frog and Toad’s Adventures and sing along to all of our silly Pete the Cat songs. 

I envision hide and seek, where you are the third one piled high on wiggly laps while each of you giggle and fail in your attempts stay quiet from our bedroom closet.

I picture another pajama clad blondie to join us during our Christmas tradition of pizza and hot chocolate and driving around to, “Ooooh” and “Ahhhh” at all of the brightly lit homes.  I would welcome the extra set of sticky fingers and sleepy yawns just to have you here with us this year. 

I smile and (shudder) when I think of trying to wrangle another wiggly baby for family photos.

I wonder what you will look like.  If you will have the same blue eyes as your big sister and brother or maybe you’ll be the brown eyed baby to finally match your Aunt Kelsey. 

I look at our dining room table and I know deep down that one of the extra seats is being saved for you. 

I didn’t know back when I started to dream that it would take so long to meet you. And some days my sweet baby, it seems like it’s been an eternity. 

So we wait. 

We wait through long weekend trips to our favorite little mountain towns, through summer birthdays and Fourth of July fireworks and wedding celebrations. 

We wait through tears and broken hearts as we send another sweet baby to heaven. 

We wait as the summer heat begins to lessen and the autumn leaves begin to fall and spiral their whirlwind of eccentric colors.  As we anticipate the coming of the winter snow and as we start to plan holiday travel and February trips to Disney World. 

And through all of this waiting, deep down I’m praying that you’ll be our little secret soon to keep.

I know that God’s timing is good and perfect.  And I know that He is preparing me to be the very best momma for you.  But goodness, if I could speed up time, I sure would.

I love you my baby.  I can’t wait to meet you and hold you and share with you all of the secrets of my heart.  I can’t wait to sing Back To Pooh Corner and to dance with you in our little galley kitchen while we make up for lost time.

Until then my sweet baby, you are so loved! Momma

Sunday, December 18, 2016

The Perfect Snow Day Craft for Littles

Hi friends, It's been a while!  We've just been over here raising and growing babies and savoring these last few months together as a family of four!  I knew this pregnancy would fly by with the holidays dominating the final months.  And just like that... Christmas is just ONE WEEK away. 

This weekend we got our first big Denver snowstorm.  Our little family hunkered down with lots of yummy food + Christmas movies + cozy jammies.  One of my favorite winter movies is Snow Day starring Chevy Chase. I was thrilled to find this movie on Netflix and introduce it to the kids! 

If your babes are like mine though, movies aren't enough to keep them busy.  I try to keep play dough, baking supplies and crafts up my sleeve to keep them busy for impromptu snow days.  One of my favorite things to do is make Salt Dough Ornaments!  What's best -- This recipe takes only three ingredients and I can almost bet that you already have them on hand. 
Guys, these are SO easy and they can keep the kids busy for more than a half hour at a time.  Which is a HUGE win in my book.  Mack & Levi are tough because of their four year age difference so I am ALWAYS thrilled to find something that both of them love to do and will keep them equally entertained. 

The recipe for the salt dough is as follows:

1 Cup of Flour + 1 Cup of Salt + 1/2 a cup of water

Add more water if you need to make the dough the right rolling consistency. 
Throw some extra flour down on the table so that the dough won't stick. 

Please excuse the messy bedhead hair.... Hey, that's real life, right?

My kids loved rolling out their dough and then using cookie cutters to make their ornaments.  Once cut out, we used the bottom of a mixing stick to press holes into the ornaments to be used later to string our twine through.   

 Place the cut out dough on a cookie sheet and put into the oven on 200 degrees for 2.5 to 3 hours. 

Next comes the painting!  We spread this entire project out over a two day period to get double the entertainment!  Plus, momma needed a break from all the mess ;)

If you are in need of a last minute crafty gift for your kiddos, IKEA has these fantastic paint sets & roll out paper that we LOVE to pull out on rainy and snowy days. 

Lastly, wait until the ornaments dry and then string some twine or ribbon through the cut out hole.  Deliver a few to friends along with some homemade holiday cookies!  It's the perfect simple kid approved Christmas gift! 
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