I’m sad our T-ball Spring Season is coming to an end, but I did get to make these super cute shoes that I will wear for every season from now on!
Bonus! They can be worn to professional games as well (Go Rays!)
So, start with a pair of (relatively) clean white canvas sneakers. They can be Keds, Converse or- if you’re cheap like me- Target brand!
I bought red puffy fabric paint from Hobby Lobby for 97 cents each. I bought one red and one red glitter. I ended up only using the red- no glitter.
Follow the lines/ laces on the shoe to create a baseball-like affect!
** Also, some cleaning tips! As you can see I cleaned mine in between making them and wearing them!
Toothbrush, toothpaste, water, color safe bleach.
Let air dry. DO NOT put in dryer!
Wear to the ball field!
I was asked to write a HIPPY success story, so here it goes:
When I first started HIPPY 3 years ago, I’m ashamed to admit my first packet, I got so frustrated I told my husband my daughter “sucked” at school.
What I really meant was it was hard- for both of us. I had never taught anyone anything before.
Since that day 3 years ago, I think I have learned more than my daughter has. I have learned her learning style- what interests her. To calm down. To give ourselves grace. Rome wasn’t built in a day.
She’s learned how to do science experiments. Her alphabet. Her shapes and colors. Sight words. How to cut. Fine and gross motor skills. And- my favorite- how to write her name. That was the day of HIPPY I remember most and the day it finally “clicked” for me. It’s the day I will never forget.
When she wrote E-M-M-A in flour for the first time. I’ll admit I teared up. I was so proud- and not just of her. Of me. I had taught her that.
And so, even though we have made the decision not to homeschool her, I know that my daughter has the skills and tools to succeed in kindergarten because of me- and HIPPY. I am forever grateful for this program.
It’s my alone time. My me time.
My sanctuary. My therapy.
When I can think without being interrupted. Or not think at all.
It’s when I feel most myself.
I’ve laughed on runs. I’ve cried.
I’ve picked up leaves or acorns for my kids.
I’ve thought about my grandfather who passed when I was 15. I felt like he was running with me. Like he would be proud of me.
It’s when I get to take care of me. So I can be healthier. And live longer.
It’s when I get to be in nature. See the animals.
It’s when I get to listen to what I want.
And the endorphins. Runners high is no joke.
I’m calmer after a run, especially with my kids.
Running makes me a better mom.
A better person.
A better me.
But it’s not.
Sometimes I yell. Sometimes I curse.
Sometimes I’m mad at my husband. Sometimes he’s mad at me.
Sometimes he has a bad day at work. Sometimes I have bad days.
Those cruise pictures we took? We spent most of that cruise telling at our kids because they wouldn’t go to camp.
Those camping pictures? Emma refused to nap and I drove her around in the truck, then slammed on the brakes and yelled at her.
Our kids don’t always hold hands and hug.
They fight. They pull hair.
They scratch. They bite.
They’re not perfect. And neither am I.
So, don’t be fooled by our Christmas card.
I wish my life was as perfect as my Christmas card.