Kitchen Sink Included

Haircuts for the New Year

2012-01-07T22:28:00.000-05:00

While the rest of blogdom is treating us all to deeply insightful posts about new beginnings, etc., I have pictures of Monkeys needing haircuts. Well, I have pictures of ONE Monkey who needs a haircut. And a story about another one.

Monkey1 is the story: He was shaggy. Really shaggy. And every time I asked, he insisted he liked it that way. Finally the other night he suddenly, for no apparent reason (maybe the moon was full??) announced that a haircut would be a good idea. And when The Mad Scientist heard that he said "Good! Cut it now! Before he changes his mind." So, I pulled out my scissors, trimmed the ends to a nice length, and proceeded to taper and layer until Monkey1 cried in a panic "Stop tapering!! I'm going to be bald!!" He wasn't anywhere near bald, which just goes to show how long his hair was to begin with. It's still a good two or three inches long, at least. But now it looks neat, so we're all happy.

Monkey3 is the picture:

Before: Also very shaggy

We were in Wal-Mart several weeks ago when I noticed a sign in the hairdresser's window, "Buzz Cuts, $10 - Shampoo, $1 extra" Why one needs a shampoo if they've just been buzzed I really don't know, but Monkey3 was intrigued. He's been asking for a buzz cut ever since. So today I finally went out and bought a new pair of clippers (mine were quite dull, which explains why all the men in the house are so shaggy - no one wanted a cut because the clippers kept pulling, and it hurt.) For the cost of 2.5 buzz cuts, I have taken care of our hair-styling needs for at least a year, hopefully more. And the immediate result is this:

After: Not Shaggy

The Mad Scientist told him he looked like a villain, and was immediately sorry, since this definitely captured Monkey3's imagination. He's been going around all evening explaining "I wook wike a VIWAIN!" and if you ask him why he'll explain "Because my haiw is weawy sort, and I have a CAR acwoss my head!"

Thankfully he missed the part where The Mad Scientist described the really short hair as "a prison haircut." The scar is a remnant of early trauma (to his parents; he doesn't remember it), and he looks quite ferocious. I will say this for the cut, however: When he's not making ferocious faces that scrunch his eyes up, those big brown eyes he got from his daddy are pretty hard to miss, now that they're not hidden by all that hair!

Is nothing sacred??

2011-12-16T21:18:00.000-05:00

People think I'm a freak, because I read labels and don't let my children eat 90% of what's available in the grocery store. There are entire aisles that I never walk down at all. But do you know what they do to that "food"? Seriously, you couldn't make this stuff up.

Always listen to the Experts

2011-12-16T00:36:00.000-05:00

You should always listen to the Experts. That way, when they get around to discovering that they're wrong, you can enjoy saying "I knew that!" Although to be fair, the guy whose book sparked the whole "cry it out" thing, never really intended his research to be used the way it has been. At any rate, now you have a response to all those who cry with horror "Don't pick that baby up just because it cries!"

Pay Attention - Be Outraged!

2011-12-06T16:04:00.001-05:00

Every once in a while, I get a call from my oldest brother. More rarely I get a call from the younger one, who usually calls just to talk, which is nice. My older brother does that too, sometimes, but often he starts off the conversation with "I have something else to get your blood pressure up!" He knows just what subjects push my buttons, and when he hears about something ridiculous, he's always eager to share.

Most recently, it was a story from Hawaii about a family, newly moved to the state, who went grocery shopping to put something edible in their new home. While at the store, they shared a sandwich, saving the wrapper to pay for it when they were done. Only, they forgot. They came back inside as soon as they realized their error, only to be told the store had a zero-tolerance policy toward shoplifting, and the manager would have to call the police. Both parents were arrested and spent the night in jail, which meant their two-year-old was taken into custody by Social Services. Over a sandwich they intended, and tried, to pay for.

You'd be amazed how many stories like this my brother comes up with. Here's one I experienced personally: Over the past year I have helped start a local non-profit organization. Our focus is on natural, healthy pregnancy and birth, and issues pertaining to the early years of childhood. One of those issues happens to be vaccinations. Believe it or not, there are actually arguments both pro and con. We offer classes and discussion groups on this topic for parents to educate themselves so they can make an informed decision. Based purely on the fact that we offer this information, a local moms' group told us that we are not welcome to post any of our classes, at all, on their internet group, because they aren't comfortable recommending people come to our events, since our children aren't vaccinated. I'd just like to point out that nowhere in any of this non-profit's literature does it say anything whatsoever about the vaccination status of the Board members' children.

So many topics! There is outrageous information out there about homeschooling (look up the Johanssen family, in Sweden), parents' right to make health care choices for their child, people's right to access the food they feel is necessary for their health, parents being shoved out of schools and told that what goes on in the place where their child spends most of his waking hours is none of their business...the list goes on and on. Which is great for me, because I tend to have low blood pressure, and I appreciate my brother looking out for me. Today, however, I didn't need his help. I found an outrageous story all by myself. Check out this article at the Washington Post, about what happened when a School Board member took the standardized test for 10th graders.

If you're not outraged, you're not paying attention. There's always something...

Take a break on occasion though. I'm pretty certain too much of this would make your head explode.

Christmas Wish List

2011-12-04T15:21:00.000-05:00

When I was a small child, my parents didn't believe in Christmas Wish Lists. In retrospect I can see their point, that handing a shopping list to those who might be considering getting one a gift may not be in the best of taste. At the time I thought it was particularly cruel that anything I actually listed on paper as being of especial interest was, as a direct result, less likely to appear under the tree on Christmas morning. (But there is always the time-honored Hint, which is more acceptable, so all was not lost.)

When the Mad Scientist and I started our own family, we (read: I) had very distinct ideas about the sorts of toys we wanted our children playing with. These included things like all-natural materials, no batteries, creativity-inspiring, and (on the part of the Mad Scientist) nothing with numerous small pieces.

Meanwhile back on earth, those things aren't in a grad-student's budget, and I ran up against early childhood training when it came to handing out a list of requirements to those who might purchase gifts for our children. I read a blog of one mom who did this, but I really couldn't wrap my mind around it. So our children ended up with lots of plastic toys, small pieces, and things that need batteries. Also because that's the sort of thing you find at Goodwill, which is where mothers whose husbands are in grad school do their Christmas shopping. My children seem to have survived this, so far, and I hurry to add that, as our families became more aware of our preferences, they did their best to respect them.

However, I still retain a deep-seated desire for simple, classic toys for my children, which is why I was so delighted to find this list of the 5 best toys of all time. Interestingly enough, my children adore every item on this list and (not to spoil the surprise) nary a one of them will break the budget. Good to stop and rethink that Christmas shopping list! (I'm indebted to Ann Voskamp for the link I originally followed.)

Advent Begins

2011-12-03T18:56:00.000-05:00

It has been a busy Summer, and busy Autumn...a busy year, really, and I'm tired, and wondering where the days have disappeared. But now we are counting down the days 'til the Coming, lighting another candle each evening, waiting for the Light.

The Advent Log idea comes from this book, which we will probably use as soon as I have time to dig it out of storage. Meanwhile, we are using Ann Voskamp's Jesse Tree Devotional series, and really enjoying it. (Something that has helped make the Jesse tree idea more interesting to the Monkeys.)

Zaccheus stands tall at the top of our Jesse tree, stretching, straining to see Jesus coming. And we watch this video to remember why we're waiting, and all those who waited before:

Reply to Yusef Komunyakaa

2011-05-30T08:49:00.002-04:00

How do you explain something like the Vietnam Veterans' Memorial to a six-year-old? I wrote this not too long ago, after reading Facing It, by Yusef Komunyakaa. (Go read that one first, or this won't make as much sense.) This was my response:

A Reply to Mr. Komunyakaa

Who
could look at this stretch
of black granite
without weeping?
Even without knowing
the heat of jungles,
stench of feet, rotting
in their boots, the
snap, crackle, pop
of rifle-fire for breakfast -
I look down
the Vietnam Veterans' Memorial
where every one of
58,022 names
belongs to a man
- a boy,
borne by a woman.
My hands reflected,
as I brush back my son's hair,
caress letters carved in stone,
my tears running
between the lines.

To all of our soldiers, sailors, and airmen of the Army, Navy, Air Force, Coast Guard, and Marines, and to the families that love them, and who have also sacrificed - You are never forgotten. Thank-you.

Homemaking Helps

2011-05-22T05:30:00.024-04:00

I've never done a product review here, but I'm so excited about this new planner I just have to share. I dithered about it for four (!) months, then finally decided to just give it a try - it's only $8, for pity's sake! And that's the first exciting thing about this planner: It is very affordable.

You select which variety you want from the options here. They have page-a-day varieties, and week-at-a-glance. There are two size options, and you can decide if you want daily Bible reading included or not. I chose the half-sized week-at-a-glance. I downloaded the file and put it on The Mad Scientist's thumb drive, then took it to Office Depot. I asked them to put on a spiral binding and a heavier-weight cover, and this is what I got:

Quite uninspiring, I know, and maybe at some point I'll Modge-Podge something pretty on there, but for right now I am most concerned with what is INside:

This, faithful blog readers, is my life, organized. This is every task required for maintaining a well-run home, listed and scheduled. I love it! (And I know you can't see it very well, but you can look at a preview here. Samples of the other styles are at the bottom of the first page linked.)

For years now I have wanted to take a comprehensive list of household chores, and a calendar, and schedule them all out month by month. Motivated Moms did all the work for me. It includes everything from changing dish- and hand-towels, to clipping children's nails (routinely forgotten here, 'til I notice someone appears to have claws), to wiping off the refrigerator shelves. And it's divided into manageable chunks, which is great.

That means that, rather than "Clean Refrigerator" (which I absolutely wouldn't need reminding for, if I could fit that in anywhere, all at once) it says "Clean top shelf of refrigerator." Much easier.

Another thing that I've found is, every time I think that something got left out, it turns up within the next week or two. For example, when it listed each refrigerator shelf individually over the last two weeks I thought "Oh, it didn't say anything about the door shelves. I'll have to remember to do those with the corresponding shelf next time." And then I turned to this week, and there it was: "Clean refrigerator door shelves." Drawers were listed separately as well.

The great advantage of this planner, I find, is that it breaks things down into manageable chunks. I frequently neglect my cleaning because I'm so overwhelmed that I can't start, because I don't know which thing to do first. This tell me what to do, and I can relax knowing that everything else will come up in its own time. I don't stress if I don't manage to accomplish everything on a given day, either, because I know it will come back again soon enough. (I also love that "Take time for a craft or hobby" and "Pamper yourself" put in regular appearances.)

I paid $8 for the download and $5.75 at Office Depot to have it printed and bound. A great price for a fantastic resource!

(If daily or weekly cleaning really isn't your thing, check out this post at Simple Homeschool, all about Once a Month Cleaning. If I'd read that before I found this, I would definitely have given it a try.)

Please note: I have not received any compensation of any sort for posting this review. It is simply my honest opinion, and was not solicited by anyone.

No one was raptured here

2011-05-21T19:48:00.000-04:00

And The Hippie Housewife makes an excellent point about the take-away lesson.

What if today really had been the end?

"How we spend our days is, of course, how we spend our lives."

~Annie Dillard

For my part, I spent today thusly: First I got up early and fed my family, then we piled in the car and drove about 40 minutes to a barn sale I'd seen advertised earlier in the week. We hit a few more yard sales on the way home, and got three phenomenal deals (I think). Then we went to my brother-in-law's house, and helped him pack up to move to his new place. I watched the children with his wife while the Mad Scientist helped unload on the other end. Then we came home and I sacked out with Monkey3 in the recliner. (Seriously, I have NO idea why I was so tired, but I'm suspicious my youngest brother being here, keeping us up 'til all hours catching up, may have had a bit to do with it.) I awoke to a lovely dinner cooked by my beloved, and now he's out playing ball in the yard with Monkey1. I just finished a tour of my garden, which is making very nice progress at this point. So, overall, it was a wonderful Saturday. Hopefully, the Mad Scientist will spend tomorrow on a planter behind a pair of draft horses. (It's rest if you don't have to do it during the week!) Maybe I'll take some pictures this time. Have a restful weekend!

He makes an excellent point

2011-05-15T21:15:00.000-04:00

I've griped here before about the ridiculous ban on the sale of raw milk in this state. (Apparently, Indiana is one of only 11 states that ban the sale of raw milk to consumers outright...solidifying my claim that, in some respects, this state has a long way to go.) So I won't say any more about it, just give you this link, wherein a Washington Times columnist makes the point that lots of other raw foods, potentially containing pathogens, are sold every day. So what is the FDA's beef with milk? Shall we outlaw sushi, too? (No, no. That would be ridiculous!)

Here's another link, where the point is made that people obviously want acess to this stuff, and the only people objecting are the ones working for the government...that is, our public servants, on our dime.

Maine has found a solution, however! And that is just one thing I love about New England.

One advantage of being a Luddite

2011-05-09T17:26:00.004-04:00

Have you seen this video?

Ok, so what I want to know is:

Why is that the default setting on the phone?

Who needs to know the exact location where their photos were taken...THAT specifically??

Is this really making it easier for "bad guys" to find us? Really? I mean, you don't have to work very hard at it anyway. If it takes two minutes, rather than ten, to track down this information, are we really any less safe?

Want to know how I spent Mother's Day Weekend? I spent it watching the kids by myself, because my husband was taking a workshop to learn how to drive a team of draft horses, for farming.

(Saturday night we visiting a breeding farm for Belgian horses, watched a stallion collection (THAT was interesting!), and saw two mares being bred. We also watched an ultrasound of a 12-day-pregnant mare. Yesterday morning I drew a beautiful illustration of an ovum surrounded by sperm, and explained where babies come from. Happy Mother's Day to me!) :-)

Yesterday afternoon, we went out to the farm and spent the afternoon watching The Mad Scientist drive a team of draft horses around, planting oats in the pasture, and I got a bad sunburn and had a marvelous time. The monkeys helped milk the cows and feed the horses. I didn't make, or receive, a single phone call. It was great. I also didn't take any pictures, which was maybe not so great, but if I had, I'd have used this ancient little Canon Elph I have, which (I guarantee) is NOT electronically embedding the exact location where the picture was taken onto each and every photograph.

Cold War, Monkey-style

2011-04-29T08:41:00.000-04:00

At our house, we have an invisible contingent known (to the Monkeys) as "The Bad Babies". Occasionally, they'll join this group, and I'll hear "I'm a Bad Baby!" or "Monkey2 is a Bad Baby!" Followed, naturally, by a screech of protest from Monkey2.

Today, The Bad Babies were apparently fighting with a new group, known as The Good Babies. Monkey1 had a solution:

"I know! We'll just build bigger, and bigger, and BIGGER weapons! And ALL the babies will be so scared of the BIG kids [that would be the Monkeys, I assume] that they'll stop fighting with each other!"

So what this mother would like to know is, WHY is this inherent in boys (because he certainly never learned that from US!) that this is a good solution to that type of problem??! I need a copy of The Butter Battle Book from Dr. Seuss.

Wouldn't it be nice if we were younger? Or older?

2011-04-28T16:34:00.000-04:00

Then we could do completely awesome things like this! In a few years, we could do it with the monkeys. Wouldn't THAT be a grand adventure??

Where's the logic in that?

2011-03-09T10:11:00.001-05:00

This post was supposed to be full of chipper advice about the wonders of Freecycle. On Freecycle, I found shingles for my chicken coop roof, paint for the walls, and wire for the enclosure. My hens have finished their molting (mostly) and we've been getting three eggs daily. The whole family loves the chickens, and we've had so much fun watching them and just enjoying them.

However. This past Monday I went before the City Council to plead for my hens...and was turned down. Because last year, the citizens of this city informed the City Council that chickens in the city were Not Acceptable - apparently, they are noisy, smelly, and the eggs (!) attract rats - and so the new zoning regulation that would have permitted them was defeated.

And despite the fact that MY chickens are quiet, clean, don't smell, and don't attract rats, there are No Exceptions. Not here.

Chicago will allow you to keep an unlimited number of chickens in the city (as long as they are for pets or eggs, not slaughter). Toledo, Ohio allows chicken owners to get a variance from the City Health Inspector, an exception to the prohibition against "farm animals" in the city. But not here. Apparently, these people know better.

The next time these people are walking behind their dogs with little baggies of poop (or wishing that their neighbors would), I hope they think about the fact that chickens don't poop in other people's yards.

The next time a dog barks madly at three a.m. right next door, I hope they think about the fact that hens never make a noise louder than a t.v. or a noisy a.c. unit, and that only during the day.

The next time they shake their heads about the filthy yard full of cats and dogs (or one dog, or whatever) down the street, I hope it crosses their mind that it is FILTH that attracts rats, not chickens. I find the assumption that I would allow my chickens to be filthy really quite insulting. (And, by the way, I don't leave the eggs in the coop. We bring them in the house and eat them ourselves, silly people.)

But, there is no reasoning with Concerned Citizens. So, having cried in front of the City Council ("Clearly this is a very emotional issue for you." they said. As though no rational person would be frustrated or upset at having to give up their pets because other people are being ridiculous.), as well as the Mayor, I'm re-homing my chickens. And to everyone who will sleep better at night as a result, I wish a dog next door who barks at three a.m.

How to build a chicken coop for free

2011-02-22T17:50:00.001-05:00

I found an ad on Craigslist several weeks ago, that offered 5 laying hens for $30. How could I pass up that?

So we pulled out our stockpile of "this might come in handy", and looked it over. Because chickens require a coop, of some sort. Here it is:

Also available were several varieties of boards, two sheets of plywood (one long and skinny, one 4'x4') two rolls of linoleum, and a bucket of hinges.

We used the platform (formerly Monkey1's loft bed) for the floor, and cut the 2x4s in half for the corners. Monkey3 helped:

We nailed them to the corners, using a square to make sure they were...well, square:

Monkey3 helped some more.

Monkey1 helped, too. Once the 2x4s were on, he and Monkey2 wandered off to build a tipi:

It was a building kind of day. We tied the 2x4s at the top with strapping:

Next up was walls, and we didn't have enough wood for that, so we headed to the local building supply store. But not to buy wood; oh no. They pile their pallets out back, free for the taking. We went through and picked the nicest ones, and came home with these:

(I still can't believe that was all just going to be thrown away.) You know, getting pallets apart without wrecking the wood is really hard. They use these twisty nails that think they are screws, and just really don't want to let go. Kind of miserable, and my arms are still sore, but we did get enough wood for the walls. We added more strapping around the middle, and screwed on the boards top, middle, and bottom. The screws stuck out on the inside, which led to Monkey1's favourite part:

See the sparks? That was even more impressive after dark. But that came later...

That first day (Saturday) we finished the back wall and used the 4'x4' sheet of plywood for the floor. We pieced it together, and left about a foot hanging off one end to floor the egg boxes. We decided to stop, since it was getting nippy with the sun going down. There wasn't a cloud in the sky, and we left the coop out in the yard to finish on Sunday afternoon.

Sunday morning we woke up to sleeting rain. The plywood for the floor was mostly soaked. We'd left a pallet on top of it, so that part was dry, but we knew we couldn't put linoleum down over a mostly wet floor. We hauled it into the garage, and left it to dry while we headed off to church.

It actually did dry out, so we stretched the linoleum out and tacked it down before lunch. A longer drying time would have been good, but we had a time crunch because (fanfare) we were picking up the chickens that afternoon! (Stop shaking your head at me!)

We drove WAAAAAAY up north - about an hour - to the land of never-ending wind, and met the girl who was selling us the chickens at a BP. She had her boyfriend with her, and the chickens in a cardboard box. The monkeys wanted to see the chickens, so she pulled them out of the car, and pushed the flaps down a bit. One hen poked it's head up through the hole, and the guy said (very quietly) "I am not chasing these chickens all over the parking lot." Just one more long-suffering male, dealing with a crazy woman. :-D She made the monkeys promise to take good care of her "ladies", and we headed home.

We carted them home (after a quick stop to pick up food, waterers, and feeders) and put the box in the yard, while we tried to finish up the coop.

It probably would have been good to start with a plan, but when you're making the best of what you've got, planning can be a bit difficult. I suppose we could have sat down with our pile of junk and sketched out a detailed plan for what to do with it, but where's the fun in that? So we had to pause, here and there, to figure out what was coming next.

About 8:30 we finally put on the egg boxes, hung the roost, and put the final wall on. We used the long skinny piece of plywood for the last wall. Cut in half, it fit perfectly. We hinged both pieces at the bottom so we can open the whole wall for cleaning, or only half just to let the birds out for the day.

We covered it with a tarp, because we didn't have enough wood on hand to finish the roof...plus, it was late, and we'd been working hard all day. The tarp was good enough for a while.

Final result:

For the egg boxes, we used a sheet of heavy plywood off one of the pallets. The Mad Scientist built a u-shaped frame, inserted it into the coop, and screwed it to the 2x4s on that side. He screwed the floor to the bottom, and we hinged the remaining plywood to the top. It wasn't quite wide enough, so we filled in the back with a piece of strapping.

Total cost so far: $3 for the tarp, plus three hasps and three latches for the two doors and the egg boxes. (I don't remember how much those cost.)

Next up: "It's not about what you have in your closet! It's about who your friends are, and what they have in their closets!" (Name that movie.)

Someone agrees with me

2011-02-15T16:32:00.002-05:00

I'll have to put up a long post tomorrow about...something, so my kiddos don't see this video clip on my screen and want to watch it. Maybe not super appropriate for pre-schoolers, but I had to put it up so you can see that I'M NOT ALONE. Although her objections differ somewhat from mine, the point is still that Disney Princesses may not be the most appropriate Role Models for our little girls.

I perhaps wasn't clear

2011-02-09T16:41:00.001-05:00

Before I get any more comments on my Disney Princess post (as my sister and brother BOTH apparently have Strong Objections), I'd just like to point out:

That I didn't mean to object to the Disney Princess movies as a whole, for entertainment purposes.

I meant to object to Disney Princesses as role models for Very Young Girls (i.e. "You can be a princess JUST like_____________!" Maybe I didn't make that quite clear.

Ok, now, what were you all going to say?

Negatives don't add up to a positive.

2011-02-08T20:37:00.002-05:00

I received a very interesting comment on my Of Princesses and Frogs post, which I would like to reply to. An anonymous commentor (who I hope wasn't my brother, since I always lose arguments with him, even when I'm right) stated:

If you consider yourself "a woman of strength, honor, resourcefulness, and intelligence, who respects herself, and these qualities, enough to hold out for those things in a life-partner" (which I am sure that you are!),then I believe that you learned to think for yourself and were not unduly swayed by the Disney movies YOU loved as a child. What makes you think that you will not bring up a daughter who can also think for herself? A person who can think critically and clearly can be "exposed" to all sorts of "influences" without harm to their true selves. In fact, it can be like dating, the real lessons learned are what you really DON'T want in a life-partner, so you can move on to the real thing.

There are a few problems that I see with this point of view, and to facilitate discussion, I decided to address them in a new post:

First of all, yes, I did learn to think for myself...after a lot of trial and error, involving decisions that I deeply regret, based on a romanticized view of life that was certainly not hindered by the Disney movies I watched while growing up.

I would prefer my daughter to learn positive lessons (i.e. "This is what is good, noble, true...") rather than negative ones (i.e. "Here is an example you should NOT follow.)

And while it is true that "A person who can think critically and clearly can be 'exposed' to all sorts of 'influences' without harm to their true selves.", I don't think that a four-year-old is really capable of that kind of critical thought. I'm certain that, when my daughter is older, we will be able to enjoy the fun aspects of these movies together, and also some good conversations about the less positive things they contain. But I will be waiting for that until AFTER she has developed the ability to look at them critically, rather than letting her see them now, when she will fall in love with the swooshy clothes and assimilate the ideas without first thinking them through.

I will add: If you're learning what you DON'T want by dating, that's a whole lot of negative experiences to carry with you through life. Again, I'd rather my children not learn their lessons by experiencing everything now that they shouldn't want for the future.

Further thoughts and disagreements welcome, as long as they're worded as politely as this one was!

Of Princesses and Frogs

2011-02-04T21:56:00.002-05:00

I was perusing old posts over at Prairie Mother, looking for her pumpkin pie recipe, when I happened on this post about the Princess Syndrome. You know what it is: Every little girl is a princess!

I typed out this whole comment over there, and then realized it was more of an entire post than a comment. I'd love to hear your thoughts.

The "comment" was:

Yes, there is definitely a "Princess Culture" out there, and Disney is most certainly leading the charge. I loved the Disney movies when I was growing up, but now, with a daughter of my own, I have avoided them like the proverbial plague. When you really consider the messages they send, there is very little of value.

Snow White is gullible and foolish, saved by a magic kiss.

Aurora is...gullible and foolish, saved by a magic kiss.

Cinderella is meek and obedient, saved by a Fairy Godmother and a troupe of animals to whom she has been kind (at least that's something positive).

Ariel...don't even get me started on her. "But if I do that, I'll never see my father or my sisters again." "But, you'll have your man!" the witch says slyly. And that's ok by her. Oh, and she's sixteen, belligerent, stubborn, and determined to have her own way. And obviously completely mature enough to fall in love and live happily ever after.

Jasmine, well, she's probably a step up as far as the feminists are concerned. Which is to say, her father is preoccupied and out of touch, her boyfriend is a "bad boy" that she has to help rescue, and her pursuer is skanky and must be overcome by her wits and resourcefulness. So if you want to teach your daughter to look down on all the men in her life and only rely on herself (and any magical genii she happens to find), Jasmine's perfect. Especially if you like skimpy outfits.

Belle is pretty much the same thing, only she does it all with more clothes on. So I'd say from Aladdin on, (chronologically speaking), the Disney princesses stopped being helpless females waiting to be rescued, and became the only intelligent people in the whole movie. Not much of an improvement.

When I think about qualities I want my daughter to admire and emulate, I don't think of waiting around for her hero to find her, kiss her, and sweep her off to some type of happily-ever-after. Nor do I want her to feel that she should be some type of super-hero female, relying on no one (because they're all unreliable) as she charges ahead with her own dreams and plans...hoping that some man will fall into her life one day and want to come along for the ride. (Because make no mistake - the hero is still necessary for the princess. The difference, now, is he's the sidekick, rather than the rescuer.)

I want my daughter to strive to be a woman of strength, honor, resourcefulness, and intelligence, who respects herself, and these qualities, enough to hold out for those same things in a life-partner. I don't think she's going to learn that from the Disney cadre of princesses. Any other suggestions for role models? Because the ruffles and twirly dresses are hard to compete with, I gotta tell ya.

How's that for a hobby?

2011-01-14T21:23:00.003-05:00

I found this ad on Craig's List today, and saved the pictures to show you:

"10 or so tractors for sale. We have some h's, m's, a 300, and a super m. Some run some don't. Email for appointment to see them!"

I just have to say, you know this guy's wife told him he HAD to get rid of at least SOME of the tractors. Seriously, "ten OR SO"?? He doesn't know how many tractors he has. How big is a tractor?

I don't want to hear anything else about my yarn-buying habits, ever. At least yarn helps keep the house warm.

These may look really cool, but they're not going to keep your ears and feet warm, and help insulate your house.

This, my friends, is a hobby out of control. My yarn? Doesn't even compare.

Welcome to our regular edition of...

2011-01-12T09:33:00.001-05:00

What your government spends your money on. (Go read it; it's not long.) Confiscating chocolate eggs, and sending letters requesting permission to destroy them afterwards. I wonder how many cars with drugs in them went through customs while they were searching for and seizing these eggs? Probably not many, if any at all, to be honest. But still, doesn't it seem like there's something wrong with this picture??

As a side note, I had no idea I had consumed contraband eggs as a child. And, funnily enough, I never came remotely close to choking on the toy inside (which, as you can see from the picture, is encased in a plastic shell inside the chocolate). I must have been some kind of genius child.

Don't our politicians and border control people have more important things they could spend their time and OUR money on?!

Here we go round the mulberry bush...

2011-01-09T20:41:00.003-05:00

That's what home renovation is like, you know. Round, and round, and round you go, and where it ends...wait, that's the game at the carnival. Anyway, you get my point. Fixing up the house is the never-ending project. (The real one. The scarf I knitted my brother for Christmas turned out to be just a poser in this regard, since I did finally manage to conquer it.)

So, off we go again:

When the Mad Scientist asked what I would like to do this weekend, I said "Well, I would really love to get the drywall hung in the bathroom. By which I actually really meant that we should work on it together, but, as it turned out, my sweetheart sent me off to Sock Club yesterday, and hung it up himself.

Or he would have, except that he decided to check a pair of taped up wires dangling in the wall...which, it turned out, were hot. (As an aside, I cannot tell you how many things like that we have found in the process of renovating this house, as well as the last one we lived in. Hazard of old houses, I guess; no one followed code, or it hadn't been invented yet.) So, first he had to crawl into the crawl space under the house to fix that issue, which is what he was working on when I got back from Sock Club.

Then my job was to keep the kids out of the way, and hold up the drywall, while he operated the drill. It was more work than we expected because of the wires, but we did finally get it all up.

Now for paint, and trim. What's that you say? The hole? Oh, that's a large pipe, which stuck out too far to put the drywall over. Here we go round.....

Once that's figured out, we just have to take care of this:

Doors. I need doors, for my own sanity and peace of mind. There's nothing to be done with the space; I just need to cover it up.

I'm still feeling ornery

2011-01-07T19:27:00.001-05:00

So, in keeping with that, I present this list for your enjoyment/perusal.

I'd just like to say (since this is my personal space, where I can say what I think if I want to) that I found that list to be condescending and obnoxious.

Personally, I think maintaining the separation of work and home is more important now than ever, for precisely the reason mentioned.

I think that no e-reader whatchamacallit is ever going to equal the experience of sitting down with an actual printed item in your hand, and I know for a fact that magazines are actually doing better now than they have been for a while. (I don't remember where I read it, sorry, but it was an actual statistic from an actual study, that I received in an actual piece of mail from an actual magazine.) And I will never, ever, give up my books for a piece of plastic. (No matter how convenient it is for traveling, it's just not the same.)

I think watches are still a practical and attractive method for telling time, especially since:

I despise cell phones. I own one because it was given to me, and while I'm grateful not to have to have long-distance on my land-line, I still don't like cell phones. Mostly because no one seems to understand the "off" feature. My having a cell phone doesn't mean that I'm available 24/7 at someone else's convenience, and I wish that were true for a whole lot of other people, as well.

As for paper maps, I don't think GPS is an improvement. Both are just as likely to lead you astray because they are out of date. At least the paper map will do it without an annoying voice. Paper maps have the advantage of not needing to be able to locate a satellite, which is pretty major if the GPS I have experience with is any indication of how well they usually work.

I don't do Facebook, and I never will. For one thing, there's a few people with whom I have no interest in being "in touch", if that's what you call the total inanity that passes for Facebook "communication". For another, when I want to contact someone I do it using a Real Letter (which I'll say more about in a minute).

The day the only way to own a camera is to buy a smart phone will be a sorry, sorry day in the history of mankind.

When I look at pictures, I like to have longer than five seconds. I don't like it when a picture I'm appreciating fades into the next photograph before I'm done. I think that digital frames have a place, but I find the idea that they will soon make regular picture frames obsolete frankly ludicrous.

And now, regarding letters. I write letters. I write letters with a fountain pen, on real paper. I also write e-mails. If I had to choose one over the other, I'd take a hand-written letter any day of the week, and twice on Sundays (except they don't deliver them on Sundays). A letter is so much more civilized than an e-mail or phone call. It doesn't require the person to drop what they're doing to talk (although I use my answering machine to avoid that; I'm not against ALL technology), and it invites leisurely perusal and a response in kind. And the postal service is not going to become obsolete, leaving those of us who like letters bereft and crying, because no one has yet figured out a way to send packages over the computer. So there.

Backing up a bit, if someone I'm talking with can't put down their phone for the time it takes to have a decent conversation, I'll find someone else to talk with. Texting and taking calls while you're talking to someone else is rude. If you have to take it, excuse yourself. Talk to one person at a time.

And as for hiding, I'll just say this: My phone isn't in my pocket. It's not surgically attached to my ear, and I left it home. Find me now.

I will agree with the author on a few things: Renting movies is pretty silly, when you can get just about anything from the library. I wouldn't be sorry to see wires disappear. I like Craigslist as well as the next person, especially because I don't have to pay for the newspaper to read it. I usually look things up on-line when I have a question, and can't imagine any question being so important that it couldn't wait 'til the electricity came back on. The evening news probably isn't much of a loss, and cds do take up a lot of room. And I have already eliminated commercials from my own life, by the simple expedient of not watching tv.

I could live without Craigslist, and I can probably live without knowing what a vampire bat's wings look like right this very minute too (but that's another post), so I don't think that Modern Technology is really going to be changing a whole lot, in my life. Your mileage may vary, and I'm ok with that. Just leave my books alone.

Let's hear it for the "Fat Lady"

2011-01-06T20:36:00.001-05:00

Because it's OVER. 2010 that is. And I would say that last year could bite me hard on the hind parts, but it's already done that so many times I don't really want to think about it. Lots of tough stuff, last year, and I am so So glad to see it end. So all I really have to say, now, is "Don't let the door hit you in the butt on your way out."

I hope 2011 is a better year for us. We could sure use one.

Christmas Stuff

2010-12-23T20:33:00.001-05:00

I've been thinking, all day, about Enough, and Too Much, and Not Enough. Ann got me started on it with her Jesse Tree advent book, which finishes with the story of when she met her sponsored child in Guatemala. I was hit between the eyes and struck dumb by her question:

"Why does the World hunger, when the people of God have bread? Are Bread?"

Casting Crowns asks, "If we are the Body..." Why aren't we doing what Christ does? Why aren't we reaching out to a hurting world?

I think the problem is, we're too focused on us, and our stuff. There's so much that we "need", just have to have, and do we remember that we are some of the wealthiest people in the world? Wandering through the mall, just looking for something to buy, dashing in to Wal-Mart for that thing we need right now, do we think about the children who will go to bed tonight hungry? Katie asks, on her blog, that if you send a donation to support the work she's doing, please include your e-mail address so they don't have to mail the thank-you...because they can feed a child two meals, for the price of a stamp. How many could be fed with the money I'm planning to spend on a new coffee table?

And today, the Yarn Harlot continued the theme, asking what is "enough"?

"The dictionary defines enough as "occurring in such quantity, quality, or scope as to fully meet demands, needs or expectations." Clearly, since we live in a house, eat when we are hungry, drink when we are thirsty, put on clothes when we are cold... obviously we have enough. Enough of everything. Where does it come from then, that feeling I have when I stand in a shop, holding a gift in my hand and thinking "Is this enough?" or I bake a hundred cookies, and then stand there surveying the lot and wondering "Is that enough?"

If we're defining enough as that definition above though- and thinking of fully meeting demands, needs or expectations - then I think I'm probably in a losing game. Never mind my crazy ideas of a perfect Christmas or the expectations of others, but what's a gift but an attempt to show the recipient that you love or care for them, and if that's what it is, am I ever going to be able to get them enough? Is there anything that I can put in Joe's stocking to show him fully and completely how much I appreciate him being married to me? Can I ever buy enough presents to convey the depth of my love? There will never be enough. Never, and this year we swore to opt out of the craziness. Trying to get enough, buy enough, make enough, get enough done - because it doesn't work anyway. It's never enough, you could buy or make everything, and all that would happen is that afterwards there would be a big mess, a bunch of exhausted people- all of whom are broke - and everyone then would have too much, just because you were trying to fill something that's a feeling with stuff."

It's so easy, especially at this time of year, to forget how much we have, to lose sight of what is really enough. Even though Christmas has looked a lot different around here this year, I think we've still lost track of this, a bit. We've been moving slowly through Advent, not really doing a whole lot to "get ready" for Christmas. I haven't done much baking, the decorating is pretty simple. But we've been home, and together, and it's been good. Even though we've bought more stuff than we needed, we've been focusing on the feelings, rather than the stuff. It's a step in the right direction.

I'm thinking about a name for the next year, also on Ann's advice. I'm thinking about enough, and what that looks like, and how to be satisfied. I'll be back after Christmas with more on that. Meanwhile, merry Christmas to you all.

Over the Rainbow

2010-12-21T14:02:00.002-05:00

I know, I know...Saturday was AGES ago, blogging-wise. But I've been hard at work getting Christmas in the mail to family, so now that I've taken care of that, I'm back to blog-land. And speaking of somewhere strange (and sometimes wonderful): Last Saturday we returned to the Children's Museum to see a play based on the third Wizard of Oz book. It was only 40 minutes long, and quite nice for something that attempted to cram a rather involved story into such a short time frame. Monkey2 started crying about 15 minutes into it, and had to be taken out, but the boys enjoyed the whole thing.

Everyone wanted to say hello to Tik-Tok at the end, and wouldn't you know, he was the only major character that didn't come out to greet the audience! But, Monkey3 got a high five from the Scarecrow and the Tin Woodman, so that was ok:

That's his hand in the corner; I was too slow with the camera. Everyone got to ride the race car, since we didn't do that the last time we were there:

Monkey1 knows how it's done. Monkey3 is along for the ride.

Monkey3 LOVES this car; it's definitely his style!

Monkey2 isn't so sure about this...

So, a good time was had by all. And now, we're getting ready for Christmas!

Unto us, a child

2010-12-15T13:01:00.000-05:00

Many, many years ago, I flew half a world from my safe home, and learned what poverty looks like, for real. I prayed before going "Lord, let my heart be broken by the things that break the heart of God."

Reading Ann's words today, I remember the heat, the smells, the children clinging by a thread to hope, daily renewed by the work Compassion does. I remember, tears running down my cheeks, the joyous smiles of children who know that they are loved, that their hope is not without reason.

And in this season when so many desire so much, I think of those who are happy each day for food for that day, a chance to learn, the hope of a better tomorrow.

Who will stand in the gap for them? Who will make a difference, even just for one?

Will you?

'Tis the Season to be Jolly

2010-12-14T19:58:00.003-05:00

I had a doctor's appointment this morning in Carmel. When they called to verify I was coming, I asked the receptionist how far a drive it was, to gauge what time I would need to leave my house. She told me she really didn't know.

A really intelligent, has-it-all-together type mother would probably have googled the driving directions last night before she went to bed, and then set her alarm to ensure enough time this morning to get out the door without yelling at her children and leaving her hair wet.

I am not that person.

At ten 'til nine this morning, I sat down to google the driving directions, and discovered that Carmel is on THE OTHER SIDE OF INDIANAPOLIS, which is an hour away. This is the piece of information the receptionist might have provided, which would have helped me to be a more organized person. (Not that I'm holding her responsible. I don't need help to be disorganized and late everywhere I go. Or I should say, my children are all the help - and excuse - that I need.)

I needed an hour and fifteen minutes to get there. I left at 9:20 for a 10:30 appointment. I pulled in at 10:28.

(whistles quietly) Moving along...

Then, since we were going through Indianapolis to get home (a piece of information that might have helped me plan my day better...did I mention that already?) I decided we might as well stop at The Children's Museum for the afternoon. So we hit Chick-Fil-A for lunch, drove through the Historic District, and went to play. The museum is all decorated for Christmas:

I love Christmas decorations! Monkey1 got to dress up like a Polar Bear, including:

Blubber

Black Skin (for greatest warmth)

He also got claws, ears, and a tail. My favourite part was the tail:

Monkey3 decided he looked fuzzy. Monkey1's favourite part was the claws:

I really can't take them anywhere.

We visited the Winter Wonderland exhibit. Monkey1 (who never EVER holds still for a picture, for me) asked a total stranger to take his picture in the ice castle. She was photographing her daughter, and he leaned over and posed so nicely for her! I couldn't believe it! But she's going to send me a copy, so that's ok. I'm glad I had my "mommy cards" on me. It's much easier than searching for paper and pen to give someone your contact info. (That's a tip.)

We tried the ice skating, and Monkey2 did a bit of ice fishing:

We tried out the Yule Slide on our way down to the Planetarium.

Monkey3 raced me down and beat me with great delight. Then he was very upset that we didn't get to see Big Biwd and Ewmo, but was slightly mollified when I let him nurse through the program. The planetarium was nearly empty, so no one was around to be offended. We learned all about ancient solstice celebrations, Hannukah, Saturnalia, and how astronomers try to figure out what the Wise Men actually saw. Also when some historians think that Jesus might actually have been born. All in all, it was a fascinating program, but quite long. I was pleasantly surprised when Monkey1 told me he had really enjoyed it.

After that, we drove home and stopped at our hometown Chick-Fil-A for milkshakes, to buy me time to make supper. It was a very fun day, and I was thrilled to discover that we all enjoyed it, and I had basically no bad attitudes or issues to deal with the whole time. Wish me many more like this!

What I'm trying to say is...

2010-12-13T21:51:00.001-05:00

I got a call from our internet provider today. They used to call and ask for my father, because he's the one who actually pays for our internet. Recently, for no apparent reason, they've been asking for my mother. Last time, I said "That's my mother. Can I help you?" Which I realized later didn't translate into "She doesn't live here."

Today I was more specific. I said "That's my mother. She doesn't live here. Can I help you?" The person on the other end said "Do you make the decisions regarding internet?" And I replied "No, my father pays for our internet, as a gift."

And I thought that would fix it. I mean, I had just informed her that the person with the money not only wasn't available, but didn't even live in the same house. Why would she want to talk to me? But no, she continued "Oh, well, do you get your phone and cable through us too?" And I said "No, we don't have cable, because we don't have a t.v."

Which really should have ended the conversation. What more could a company that provides technological services possibly have to say to someone who doesn't actually own a television? (We actually do have a t.v, but it's not digital, and we only use it to watch movies. It doesn't even pick up the local stations, so I didn't feel like I was really lying. As far as they're concerned, we don't have a t.v.)

But no, she continued with "Oh, well you really should look into it, because if we provide internet, phone, and cable, you can have all three for just $99/month, and it could save you a lot of money!"

To which I replied "But we don't have a television, so we really don't need cable."

Now, I have a few questions about this whole conversation. Why does "I don't make the decisions" mean that I get the sales pitch anyway? Would they give it to my six-year-old, if he answered and I wasn't available? And why does "I don't have a t.v." result in "You should really think about adding cable!"

As it turns out, she may be right. A woman at Knit Night tonight told me that they actually do get a package deal from this company for both internet and cable, because it's cheaper than just cable alone, despite the fact that they, also, do not have a television. Maybe my dad can look into that - it could save some money. :-)

Spreading Christmas Cheer...and sprinkles...and frosting

2010-12-10T16:13:00.000-05:00

Today we had a play date scheduled, but my friend ended up having to cancel. For compensation, I told the monkeys we'd build their gingerbread houses. They received these for St. Nicholas Day, and have been dying to put them together ever since.

This is a completely acurate picture of how Monkey3 spent the entire project...sticking candy in his mouth at every opportunity. I kept saying "NO! Leave it alone 'til we're finished and I can take a picture!" This is his house at the end:

The roof was originally covered with mini-gumdrops. He had started picking off the frosting by the time I finished the path across the front. All in all, however, I think it turned out quite well:

We used the kit for the houses, plus a large bag of m&ms we had lying around. Then I outlined the path, and we filled it in with a jar of sugar sprinkles. Each person was responsible for their own house (but I handled the frosting, for the most part). Monkey2 crammed her roof as full as she could - I finally had to make her stop when she started crying because the m&ms were falling off for lack of space:

Monkey1 also did a lovely job:

I decorated both mine, and one for The Mad Scientist. I was pretty sure he wouldn't mind missing out on the ~~mess~~ fun. Monkey1 said I MUST show you this:

because it is "unreal". It's the word of the day.

Now I'm off to do laundry, while Monkey3 sleeps, and before I get high on the fumes from the coconut. Wow, does that stuff pack a punch!

First Snow

2010-12-01T09:34:00.001-05:00

Home from Thanksgiving travel, and today, December first, we have our first snow of the year. So, school is on hold for a bit, while the ~~children~~ monkeys go out to play.

We had a wonderful time visiting with family, and the monkeys loved playing with their cousins. Did I mention that I totalled our poor mini-van a few weeks ago? We were sitting at a stop light, and I turned my head to say something to Monkey1, and rear-ended the Jeep in front of me. Completely crumpled the front of my car. So we've been driving borrowed vehicles for the last few weeks. The Mad Scientist's brother loaned us his extended-cab pick-up truck. That was interesting. You know, all the spaciousness and comfort of a Very Small Car, with the driveability (and ease of parking) of...well, a pick-up. The worst of both worlds, but beggars can't be choosers.

We rented a car to drive to PA, and that was very interesting. There was a Honda Civic waiting for us at the other end, and I have to say, we fit more stuff (everything we packed, plus three bags of hand-me-down clothes from my sister-in-law's girls) in the Civic than we could get in the SUV we rented for the drive out. Confirming my suspicions that SUVs are really just kind of silly, as vehicles go. I mean, they're huge, they suck gas like there's no tomorrow, and they don't have any more space than a little car...just a bit more head room. Funny story: I borrowed a car from a friend to get to an appointment after my brother-in-law needed his truck back. It was a little one, quite low to the ground (no, I don't know what it was), and when we pulled up at the office and all got out, Monkey1 looked at the driver's seat and said "It must feel like your bum is dragging on the ground, when you drive this car!" :-)

Driving back in the Civic was fine. I'm a big fan of older cars. You know, where the windows don't stop working, because they work on a crank thing you turn, rather than a button. (Total aside: Can you imagine how terrified I was to climb into our rental and see, on the console, a small sign stating "Powered by Microsoft." NOT what I want to see in my vehicle!!) And the locks don't go down automatically at 15 mph, so you have to remember to unlock the doors before you can get out. (Because everyone knows that, in an emergency, unlocking the doors is going to be the first thing I think of as I'm ripping the door off to get out of the car.) Better yet, the new car is a standard. I think I may be in love.

Funny story the second: We were driving home and suddenly, completely out of the blue with no preface whatsoever, Monkey1 looked at me and said "I bet that, if a Sperm Whale knew how to play checkers, he could beat you at checkers." And I replied "Excuse me? Why do you think that?" "Because his brain is so wrinkly, he would be really smart, and good at checkers" he replied. Oh, naturally. I think about those sorts of things, too, while I'm driving down the highway going 70. How wrinkly a Sperm Whale's brain is.

It's the weekend

2010-11-20T14:05:00.001-05:00

I have just finished looking at the statistics for visitors to my web-site. I wish I was a little better with computers, but what I have been able to determine is that people do, in fact, actually look at (possibly even read) these posts that I fling out into the void every so often. I'm glad. I hate talking to a blank space, so the visitor tracker lets me know that I do, in fact, have some sort of audience. I'm not sure *why* you are all returning to read about my very uninteresting life and opinions, but I'm glad you're out there. It gives me a feeling of some small importance, that people care enough about what I type here to revisit on occasion.

However, I must say I was surprised (given that I do, in fact, have readers) not to receive more comments on yesterday's (Thursdays? I don't remember) post. Am I the only one who gets really aggravated, hearing about this stuff? Talk to me, people.

The Nanny State

2010-11-18T15:04:00.006-05:00

Are you aware that, in Indiana, it is illegal to "buy, barter, sell, or trade for any particle of unpasteurized" dairy product? Seriously. And no, I'm not going to get into a discussion of whether or not it is appropriate to drink the stuff. I'll just say, in New Hampshire (where I was raised, and where my parents still live) a farmer can sell up to 25 gallons A DAY of raw milk, without any government oversight whatsoever. And you really don't hear about people dying like flies as a result. ( If you'd like more information regarding why someone would choose to drink raw milk, I recommend The Untold Story of Milk: Green Pastures, Contented Cows, and Raw Dairy Products, by Ron Schmid.)

Well, apparently in California the government likes to dictate what people may or may not consume also (surprise, surprise), and this is the result:

Gosh, I am SO glad that we have our government to take such good care of us, and tell us exactly what we should and shouldn't eat! Because, you know, scientists have such a great history of never needing to take back anything they have to say about what constitutes a healthy diet! Next thing you know, they'll be delivering our meals in boxes to make sure everyone eats the right thing, so we can all qualify for the government-run health insurance.

That will probably happen right after they make it illegal for women to birth anywhere except in the hospital. Because what kind of a negligent loon of a parent would do anything else? But that's a rant for another day.

Someone understands...

2010-11-05T20:40:00.000-04:00

that sometimes, it's rough to be a Knitter.

Out of practice

2010-10-29T22:15:00.002-04:00

I am obviously out of practice with the blogging, and I'll tell you how I know. A week or two ago, I was accomplishing something (which probably should have been the tip-off that something was wrong) when I suddenly thought "Wow, it's been really quiet for...kind of a while." And then I decided not to worry about it for a few more minutes.

(All the experienced mothers just got dizzy and had to put their heads between their collective knees for a moment. They know what's coming. I should have, too.) So, having finished whatever it was that I was getting done, I walked around the corner and discovered this:

This trail of muddy footprints led from the backdoor to the bathroom, which I had just cleaned the day before (making this inevitable):

And when I poked my head out the backdoor to confront the perpetrators, they cheerfully informed me "We're having a mudpie war!" Apparently, they had been carting water out to the garden bed from the bathroom sink. And here's where the "out of practice" comes in. These are all "after" shots. I didn't get any of the actual war, just the aftermath:

My floor got nice and clean though, because before I drained the tub I used the bathwater to mop up all the rest of the mud. The water was still nice and hot, and I figured I'd send all the mud down the drain at once. So despite not getting pictures for the blog, I still made the best of the situation.

Did you miss me?

2010-10-17T18:50:00.000-04:00

My apologies, loyal blog readers. I know I have been silent for a ridiculously long length of time. The issue has been, Monkey3 destroyed the power cord for my laptop by sticking something long and slender (my money is on the screwdriver) into the plug. No, I didn't see him do it. Yes, regardless, I'm certain it was him.

Computer-less, I have been reduced to checking my e-mail in the briefest possible of interludes between dinnertime and bedtime stories, using The Mad Scientist's computer. Hence, no blogging.

But a solution is on the way, and we (remarkably) managed to eat dinner a bit early tonight. (This was possible because The Mad Scientist put the pot roast in the crockpot this morning before church, while I was drying my hair. When I am cooking, we never eat before six.) So, I am snatching this bit of unexpected time to let you know I'm still alive. I'm certain you've been concerned.

Since I am still not on my own computer, I have no pictures to show you. They're all still on the camera. However, I'd like to share something funny that happened earlier this evening. It began as I was stirring pecans on the stove, and my husband walked up behind me and wrapped his arms around me. We stood like that for a while, making small talk (really, not metaphorically; I didn't want to burn the pecans), and at some point in the conversation the phrase "take me away" was mentioned.

I sighed and said "I like it when you take me away." Then, remembering this phrase as the sometime slogan of Calgon Bath and Beauty products ("Calgon, Take Me Away" or something along those lines), I continued after a moment "You're much better than Calgon."

Now, The Mad Scientist (I guarantee) has never heard of Calgon bath and beauty products, still less of their "take me away" ad campaign. His hands, which had been rubbing my shoulders, paused, and just as I realized what that must have sounded like to him, he asked "Who's 'Calvin'?"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Having managed (once I stopped laughing) to profer a satisfactory explanation, we sat down to dinner. I had made stuffed acorn squash to go with the pot roast. Monkey1 does not like acorn squash. I scraped a quarter of a squash onto his plate, mashed it up with the stuffing (apples and pecans, with cinnamon and just a bit of sugar), divided it into two piles, and told him to choose one and eat it.

He sighed. He eyed them. He announced his distaste for acorn squash...several times. He ate some pot roast, and voiced his displeasure with the side dish once again. He was told to eat it, or there would be no dessert...and he would get the squash again tomorrow. He said "I'd like to eat this tomorrow."

We reminded him of the dessert stipulation, and he requested "a really tall glass of water. Actually, can I have two?" Finally, he began eating the squash, one molecule at a time. Once or twice he informed us that he was barely keeping it down.

The other monkeys finished and were excused, and The Mad Scientist and I left the table also, not to encourage the performance by providing an audience. When I peered back around the corner, he appeared to be in his death throes.

Finally he managed to finish and announced cheerfully "All my squash is gone! Can I have more pot roast?" Having received this, and taken several bites, he declared "This is even better than the squash!"

Every once in a while, I need a reminder...

2010-08-30T20:37:00.000-04:00

So it's nice that I found this list today, over at Life In A Shoe: 100+ Reasons for Having Children.

Personally, I'm holding out for 22. Any day now. It has to happen eventually, right? And 76 and 80 were also favourites.

I needed the reminder, because I spent today listening to my oldest moaning and throwing up. It was supposed to be our first day of school. Now I'm just dreading tonight, expecting (as I am) that Monkey2 will be the one throwing up all night long. And since The Mad Scientist was up last night ("Every hour, from midnight on") with Monkey1, tonight it's my turn. Oh, how I dream of the day when I can sleep through the night without interruption, and without a small human attached to my chest.

But really, all things considered, I wouldn't trade my children for the world, or anything in it. I'm a little worn out right now. It's been a long summer. I haven't been posting much, because I've been having a hard time focusing on the positive. And who wants to read a list of complaints on a regular basis? No one. People want someone to listen when they complain, but no one likes to listen to someone else doing it. Nope. So I figured I'd just bite my tongue (fingers?). Lately, it seems like just one thing after the next comes along, and hits us while we're still reeling from the last thing. That will wear a person out. So forgive the intermittent posting, please.

Note to self...

2010-08-21T10:15:00.001-04:00

Dear Body,

     I would like to introduce you to someone. I believe you may have had a passing acquaintance in the past, but it has become (painfully) obvious to me that you really have nothing to do with one another any more, and that is something I would like to see change. In the interest of all working together toward a common goal, I really think the two of you should get to know one another.

     Meet the Abdominal Muscles. They're going to become a much greater presence in your life, so try to get along.

     That will be all, thanks.

Sincerely,

Me

Growing up

2010-08-18T20:12:00.002-04:00

We had BIG excitement at the Kitchen Sink last week...my baby is growing up!

Oh, I just can't believe he's already losing his baby teeth! I mean, goodness, I remember when he GOT those baby teeth, and it was such a big deal...and now they're already starting to fall out.

It had been loose for about two days, when he came to me at bedtime and said "Look, Mama, my tooth is sideways!" And sure enough, it was. I didn't want him to swallow it in his sleep, so I prescribed a popsicle, (because he was worried about it bleeding; didn't want to taste the blood), and then The Mad Scientist yanked it out. One little "pop!", and there it was:

One baby tooth. Or "Baby Tooth Number One".

He put it in a sippy cup (we were unprepared parents, with no Tooth Fairy pillow to tuck it inside), and went to sleep...and the Tooth Fairy snuck into his room, and switched his tooth out for a dollar.

The Mad Scientist was appalled (and, I think, rather jealous). "I only got a DIME for a tooth!" he announced. "Yes," I told him, "my mother said the same thing to my dad when I was little. And he pointed out that, when she was little, a dime would buy a candy bar at the corner store. Now, that costs about a dollar."

Monkey1 was totally thrilled to discover his dollar, but he wasn't buying the Tooth Fairy story at all. He wanted his tooth back, to look at, so I finally got it for him. We don't do Santa, and I look terrible in a tutu, so I didn't have a whole lot invested in the Tooth Fairy.

One of my favourite sounds in the world

2010-08-16T22:53:00.001-04:00

I'm up very late. Very, very late. Because on Friday, a wonderful friend who happened to be heading out to a local orchard, picked a big box for me, too. Yesterday, dinner was late, because I was stirring two batches of jam on the stove, simultaneously. I made it up, though, because we had peach pie for dessert.

Tonight I was smarter. I put both batches in the same pot, so I didn't need to be quite so ambidextrous. Which was good, because I'm exhausted. But hearing those little pings as the jar lids seal while they cool?

Makes it all so worthwhile. We'll be enjoying this all winter. Here are the rest of the fruits of my labours:

Nothing beats homemade, for sure.

Overheard at dinner

2010-08-12T21:41:00.003-04:00

Today I bring you the following conversation, which could have been overheard at our dinner table just the other night:

Monkey1: The next time you go to Goodwill, will you buy me a stick on mustache?
(The Mad Scientist looks at him quizzically.) (Note that he knows my favourite shopping hang-out.)
Me: Sure.
(TMS looks at me in disbelief.)
Me: Incidentally, why do you want a stick on mustache?
M1: (As though it's the most obvious thing in the world which, perhaps, it is) To stick under my nose.
TMS: I was wondering if that was a trick question...
Me: (Giving TMS my best indignant glare) "Let me re-phrase: Why do you want to go about with a mustache stuck under your nose?"
M1: (As though what he is about to say is, again, rather obvious, and completely normal) "So I can look like a dwarf with a mustache."

Oh. Of course.

Do you have conversations like this at your dinner table?

The Perfect Pie

2010-08-11T05:47:00.001-04:00

The other day I was making pies. The Monkeys were "helping". I'm not sure what went wrong with the crust, because I didn't make it. You may recall from this post that, these days, the food processor is my tool of choice for pie crust. So, I asked the Mad Scientist to throw the pie crust together while I worked on...something else that really needed to be done. I don't remember what, but I'm sure it was important.

The Mad Scientist has been forever relieved of crust-making duties. It was awful. It was completely falling apart, and really, pretty much the worst crust I've ever worked with. And the Monkeys still wanted to help.

I was getting really stressed out, trying to still end up with something resembling a decent pie, when I had a sudden moment of clarity. The truth is, I've made a lot of pies. And to be perfectly honest, they usually taste better than they look. My pies are really good, but the appearance frequently leaves a bit to be desired. And I realized that no one was going to think back, twenty years from now, and remember how fabulous these pies had looked. No one would ever say "Remember that time when Daddy screwed up the pie crust, but Mom somehow managed to pull it together and turn out a cover-model pie anyway? Martha Stewart would have been proud, and just thinking of it gives me warm fuzzies!"

Yeah, right. But I was making a memory. What kind did I want it to be?

So I relaxed, and I let everyone help. Then we pieced the crust together over the filling, and stuck it in the oven. And you know what? It tasted just fine.

I'm really proud of me.

My Secret...

2010-08-09T08:51:00.000-04:00

I have an addiction. For a long time, I indulged on a pretty regular basis. I always thought that I really needed to stop this, I needed to not succumb, not let it control me the way it did. But then it would sing its siren song, and I'd give in again.

Now, though...now I'm fighting back. Now when I walk past all the goodies, and they call out to me, I have learned to turn my head and walk away. Want to know my secret?

Turns out, the grocery store candy bars don't have much of a hold over you, once you've moved on to the hard stuff:

Now you know...the secret to my sanity.

Beauty-School Drop-Out

2010-08-07T05:12:00.001-04:00

You might have noticed, in my last post, that Monkey2 has had a hair cut. We decided at bedtime on Monday that haircuts were in order. The shagginess was getting to me. Monkey1 was the main offender, and he opted not to get a haircut, but I cut enough hair off the other three culprits to make me feel better.

Monkey2's hair turned quite a bit shorter than I intended:

But I think it's adorable, so that's ok. My haircuts normally do turn out shorter than intended. I've sort of learned to roll with it. 'Course, that's easier for the guys:

Pretty hard to go wrong there. :-) As for Monkey1? He told me last week he wanted his hair really short, to be sure no one mistook him for a girl. I told him that anyone who wasn't smart enough to figure out he's a boy, regardless of hair length, isn't someone whose opinion he needs to be super concerned about, anyway, and he should do what he wants with his hair. Plenty of guys have long hair. In fact (I told him) I had seen a guy in church just the day before, with hair longer than mine, and even from the back it was quite obvious he was a guy.

I guess I convinced him. We'll see how it goes.

A few observations on dinner

2010-08-06T19:58:00.003-04:00

1. Tonight we had cod fillet with sweet corn, broccoli, and hollandaise sauce. Everyone seemed to enjoy it (except Monkey3, who apparently doesn't like broccoli).

2. I sprinkled the cod with chives and dill heads from what remains of my herb garden. It smelled amazing baking, and tasted even better. (That could be because I also spread butter over it, before putting on the herbs. Butter makes everything taste better; I'm with Julia Child on this one.)

3. I'm completely convinced that Hollandaise Sauce originated when some gourmand looked at his plate, swimming in butter after his vegetables were gone, and said "There has to be a way to get this to stick to the vegetables better. Oh, I know! Let's thicken it with egg yolks!" Voila.

4. God bless him (or her) whoever he (or she) was.

Life goes on

2010-08-05T22:10:00.001-04:00

So, how's the weather where you are, these days? Most people I'm hearing from are saying the same thing I'm going to say, which is "Did I die and find out I've been following the wrong religion all this time?"

Yeah, it's hot. Hot enough that I got all this at the grocery store today:

and felt that I had exercised a great deal of self-restraint. Especially since there's still some of it left in the freezer as I type.

We had fruit bars (from Aldi's, all fruit, very good) in the backyard, because (as I explained to the Monkeys) popsicles are an OUTside food.

They were good with that.

Then, The Mad Scientist decided to mow the lawn. I need to preface this picture with an explanation...if I could only come up with one.

First, let me say that the boy uses the potty without fail...as long as his nether regions remain uncovered. So there's been a lot of nakedness at our house, recently. (Have you ever heard the phrase "Naked as a jay bird"? Monkey3 has taken to saying, with great indignation, "I not day biwd!")

Also, he's a monkey. And he likes noisy machines. And he loves his Daddy. And there you go.

I am so totally saving that picture to put somewhere prominent on his wedding day.

I'm a little concerned... (or, How do I not laugh?)

2010-07-24T09:24:00.000-04:00

The Mad Scientist and I really, desperately need to work on our poker faces. Because it's really hard to lecture children when you're laughing. There have been several incidences of this in the last few days, but my favourite was last night:

I heard Monkey2 start wailing in the bedroom, and when I walked in and asked what happened she said "The boys were BEATING on me!" (Side track: She's just discovered that she can refer to her brothers in the plural. Now everything is "the boys." Thursday morning she sat down at the table and said "Good morning, boys!") "Beating on you?" I asked just to clarify I heard correctly, and was given a definite affirmative. I looked at Monkey1. "Were you beating on your sister?" "I wasn't beating on her!" he protested. (long pause.) "...very hard."

Speaking of my dear oldest son, this morning he has asked me repeatedly to make him a spear. Finally I said "Why do you want a spear?" and he answered "Well, because, I just like weapons." Excellent.

Apparently I seemed somewhat amenable to the idea of a spear, however, because his next request was for a lance. I explained that a lance was just a type of spear, and was informed that, yes, that's true, and he wants both. Then he asked "Why are lances so long?" and I (not really thinking about it) said "Oh, I think so they'll go further when you throw them?" "MAma!" he protested indignantly "Lances are NOT throwing spears! They're stabbing spears." Oh, well, I beg your pardon. "Why are you asking me this, since you obviously know more about it than I do?" I think he's decided his mother is a little hopeless in the weaponry department, but I'm ok with that.

Jiggety-jig

2010-07-13T20:47:00.003-04:00

As in, "Home again, home again," for those of you who didn't have really bumpy driveways growing up.

That is to say, we are. I'm planning never to attempt to temporarily pack up my whole life ever again. The problem is, I forget half of it at both ends. So when we left, I took a bunch of stuff I didn't end up remotely having time to do, and left behind things I could have really used (like warm clothes; it turns out, New England is still really cold after Indiana gets warm). (Yes, since I grew up there, I should have known that. Sue me.)

Then coming back, I left behind a ton of stuff I need. Like my calendar/day planner, which I spent two months hunting all over creation to buy at the beginning of the year, and which contains my entire life (practically). Gone. POOF! Nowhere to be found.

I should be digging myself out of the rubble and restoring my house to some semblance of order, so today I spent hours on-line accomplishing absolutely nothing. My children were not amused. I'm pretty sure my husband is a bit disgusted, as well. It's just so much easier than trying to rein in the chaos.

On a positive note, having spent ten days with our friends in Germany (whose flat is approximately the same size as my house, and contains approximately one tenth the amount of stuff) I have come home newly determined to eliminate clutter from my home and my life. So I posted three articles of furniture on Craig's List yesterday, and so far have sold one and have one pending pick-up. We need the space and the money much more than the furniture, so I'm quite pleased about that. Plus, it gave us room to install Monkey2's new kitchen playset, which I found at a yard sale by my parents and carted home strapped to the roof of my car. What can I say? It was simply too good a deal to pass up. (I realize this means I may be a completely hopeless case. I hope not.)

Peace and Tolerance?

2010-06-23T07:18:00.000-04:00

Apparently we have lost the right of free speech in America. I don't remember that particular portion of the Bill of Rights being repealed, but, given how it's being enforced, it seems that Freedom of Religion will be next to go:

Four Christians were arrested and jailed recently at Dearborn, Mich. for alleged “disorderly conduct” and “disruptive behavior” at an Arab festival, the Detroit Free Press said.

The Christians were David Wood of New York, Nabeel Qureshi of Virginia and two others affiliated with Acts 17 Apologetics.

They were distributing Christian flyers to Muslims at the Dearborn Arab International Festival, the Detroit Free Press said.

You can read the entire article here.

Now, I would just like to state right off the bat, that I have no problem whatsoever with Muslims, Hindus, Buddists, or anyone else having a festival pertinent to their religion, here, or anywhere else. What I do object to, is the idea that one particular group should be allowed to practice their religion, but that another particular group must be silenced so as not to "offend". Would Muslims have been arrested for standing outside a church handing out flyers on a Sunday morning? They shouldn't be. In this country, public property is an acceptable place to engage in free speech and the discussion of ideas. At least, that was true under the Constitution I learned about in school. Of course, politicians are playing pretty free and easy with the Constitution these days, so maybe this shouldn't surprise us.

Nod and Smile

2010-06-21T19:38:00.000-04:00

Well, first of all: Thorvald emerged from hiding only seven hours after my in-laws returned home. I was able to tell my children about the bad guys who broke into Grandma and Pappy's house without having to explain that said bad guys stole their beloved cat. So life is much better.

But on to the point of this post:

My daughter just informed me of this -

When I grow up, I'm going to be a Farmer! ("What kind of Farmer?" I asked.) Well, I'm going to be an animal farmer. ("Oh? What kind of animals will you farm?") I'm going to have sheep, cows, calves, goats, and ducks. I'm going to have FOUR ducks, and then if one gets aten by a fox I won't even mind, but when they grow up, they'll be able to fly back to the barn, because they'll know that I'm the Farmer! And there will be a Daddy goat, and the Daddy goat will be the pushy one, and if I don't get in quick he'll snitch! (I think she means "nip", but I'm not certain.)

Speaking of being a farmer, Monkey3's favourite story right now is his "totor Ted book." (That's "Tractor Ted" for the uninformed. It's a video series of a working farm from Great Britain, narrated by Tractor Ted. The book has nothing to do with the video, but also contains a cartoonish small green tractor.) The last sentence is "Wouldn't you like to be a Farmer and drive a tractor?" Monkey3 always answers "Yes, Mama, too!"

Sucker Punch

2010-06-19T19:07:00.001-04:00

Today was rough. The kids woke up early, and no one else did. So I spent two hours trying to keep them quiet so the rest of the house could sleep. Yoga was rough; I was too tired to do much (last week I told the teacher I would just spend the whole class in Child's Pose. I haven't yet, but it remains a possibility). Coming home was rough. Monkey3 was overtired, and wanted to nurse all afternoon. I put him down for a nap and he woke up crabby. Monkey2 was overtired and consequently spent a lot of time howling, whining, and fussing.

I finally got through to the Mad Scientist on Skype, and was detailing my woes when my mother brought me the phone. It was my mother in-law. Someone broke into their house today, and her parrot was stolen. He was her baby, and she is heart-broken. Also our cat, which they were watching for the summer, is missing. We don't know if he was also stolen, or just ran away because he was frightened. Either way, he's gone.

My children have been telling me for the last two weeks how much they're looking forward to snuggling with Thorvald again when they get home. I don't know what to tell them.

Odds are against the cat having been stolen. He was just your basic American Shorthair, not valuable to anyone but us. I'm hoping and praying he turns up in the next day or two. I know that, in the larger scheme of things, a cat isn't that big a deal. But he's a big deal to us. We got him before we started having babies, and all my children adore him. They've grown up with him, and he has willingly tolerated everything three active babies could dish out. He's wonderful, and we love him. And this song is on my heart tonight:

Oh great God
Be small enough
To hear me now
There were times when I was crying
From the dark of Daniel`s den
I had asked you once or twice
If you would part the sea again
Tonight I do not need a
Fiery pillar in the sky
Just want to know you`re gonna
Hold me if I start to cry

Oh great God
Be small enough to hear me now
Oh great God
Be close enough to feel you now
(Oh great god be close to me)
There have been moments when I could not face
Goliath on my own
And how could I forget we marched
Around our share of Jerichos
But I will not be setting out
A fleece for you tonight
Just wanna know that everything will be alright
Oh great god be close enough to feel me now

All praise and all the honor be
To the god of ancient mysteries
Whose every sign and wonder
Turn the pages of our history
But tonight my heart is heavy
And I cannot keep from whispering this prayer
Are you there?

And I know you could leave writing
On the wall that`s just for me
Or send wisdom while I`m sleeping
Like in Solomon`s sweet dreams
But I don`t need the strength of Sampson
Or a chariot in the end
Just wanna know that you still know how many
Hairs are on my head
Oh great God (Are you small enough)
Be small enough to hear
Me now

I guess I've made my point

2010-06-11T10:37:00.000-04:00

I think the one of the most difficult things about trying to combine two households (or, in our case, three) is getting everyone's schedules and preferences to work together. One area where this difficulty is especially apparent, is food.

When we're at home, we drink milk, and water. I never buy juice, except very occasionally as a special treat. I consider it to be an expensive way to consume a lot of calories at once, with minimal health benefits. We use it when people are sick and struggling to stay hydrated, and that's about it. So the monkeys have been delighted to have easier access to this since we got to Bestemor and Grandpa's house.

Other things they haven't been so delighted with, and I keep explaining that we don't ask for food, and then not eat it. This morning, everyone asked for applejuice with their breakfast, so it was with mixed feelings that I heard Monkey1 very hesitantly begin this speech:

"Mama, I really hate to say this, but, well, I don't want apple juice to drink. What I want to drink is water."

Is bribery a parenting strategy?

2010-06-03T09:29:00.000-04:00

I am not a salesman. I have never been good at presenting things in a ways that makes people want them. largely because I could never get over my guilt at trying to talk them into spending money. (You can see why that would present problems). I'm at peace with my inability (and have largely given up a misguided attempt at a career in cosmetic sales), but I wonder sometimes how broadly applicable the principles of salesmanship are in the rest of life.

My brother is just beginning a career in sales, and we all expect him to do very well. He has a product he believes in, and a natural ability. He also studies the company's training material (which I probably could have done a bit more of) to learn as much as possible and improve his technique. He taught me something last night, which I thought I would share:

Never tell a consumer that they're doing you a favour. Never leave them with the impression that you need them to buy what you're selling. Always look for how it will benefit them, and make that your presentation.

How does this apply to parenting? Well, just suppose that a particular uncle wanted a good-night hug from his niece, who has a history of being somewhat ornery. If she decides, on this particular night, that she isn't giving good-night hugs, the uncle has two choices.

A) He can beg and plead and tell her he loves her and act very sad that the hug is not forthcoming. Because it won't be. The "Oh, you're making me so sad" argument doesn't pull much weight with kids.

B) He can say "Well, I only give one hug per night, and you haven't gotten yours yet. So you can still come get one if you want, but this is your last chance."

It worked like a charm. And now I'm realizing how much of parenting is really just salesmanship. For example:

"Well, of course you don't have to eat your vegetables. But we're having watermelon for dessert, and you can't have dessert if you don't finish your dinner" (Surely a tried and true parenting strategy, but did you ever think about why it works?)

"Yes, you really do need to do this (go to sleep, take a bath, finish your homework, play outside), because if you do, this desirable thing will happen (you'll grow big and strong, you'll get to play outside, you'll make lots of vitamin D so you can be healthy)."

I think the biggest problem the parent/salesman encounters is finding a result that is strong enough motivation. Because frankly, vitamin D production doesn't really motivate my kids to get fresh air. Something more tangible and immediate than "growing big and strong" is sometimes required. And then, of course, you get into the whole controversy about bribing children to do things they ought to do anyway.

There's lots of opinions about the appropriateness of that. I say, in real life, people do things because there is some benefit to them. Even if the benefit is that they feel good for doing the responsible mature thing, without any tangible reward, grown-ups are motivated by positive reinforcement just as much as children. (Haven't you ever been told "Keep reading your Bible if you're discouraged!"? That's to remind yourself what the rewards are for your behaviour.)

But children aren't able to look ahead to the distant future in the way that grown-ups can. So offering them a tangible reward now, teaches them that there are, in fact, good reasons for doing the right thing. That a reward is forthcoming at some point. The key to using this strategy effectively, it seems to me, is to gradually stretch out the time between the behaviour and the reward, so that by the time you have an adult, the adult knows how to do something that's right, looking forward to a future reward.

And your point is?

2010-05-21T15:52:00.001-04:00

Refusing to engage in further discussion with Monkey1 about why we can't go immediately to the store for water pistols, he clenched his fists and proceeded to grind his teeth.

Yep, go ahead and grind them down to stubs, buddy. You'll be eating oatmeal for the rest of your life, and won't I be sorry, then!

As a side note, just think how much easier meal planning could be, if all my children take up this approach to conflict resolution...hmmm.

It's all in your mind

2010-05-11T00:27:00.002-04:00

Up to lesson 21 in his Math-U-See book today, my sweet oldest started down the long road to mathematical bliss with a bit of algebra. Solving for the Unknown. "You're lucky," I told him. "I didn't get to do algebra until I got to high school!"

"Why?" he asked in consternation. "Well," I replied, "that's just how they did things then."

He thought about that for a moment, then said "I am really lucky!"

And he did his math without fussing at all. I'll wait a few years before I tell him how many times I dissolved into tears over my math, long before I ever got to high school.

Serious Business

2010-05-10T12:44:00.001-04:00

I was passing the foot of the stairs and overheard Monkey1, in the bathroom above, sitting down to commence his business:

"Fire up the jet engines!"

Really, what more is there to say?

Everybody wins

2010-05-08T23:10:00.001-04:00

Can I get an "Amen" from the corner if I tell you a secret? I hate bedtime. Bedtime is that precious time when a totally exhausted parent, worn out from the day, does his or her (possibly their, if you're really lucky) level best to convince one or more rowdy, spun-up, wide-awake children to stay in their beds and go to sleep, for the health and sanity of all concerned.

Doesn't that seem just a little backwards, somehow?

Parenting books will tell you that this is the time when your children are most likely to confide in you all their cares and concerns, that some magical blend of drowsiness and soft pillows pulls out of them their dreams and secrets like no other time of day. "Under no circumstances" these books will intone, "should the parent neglect this wonderful opportunity to connect with the child's heart over bedtime prayers."

Back in the real world, let me tell you how MY evening went. It was pretty typical. Around 7:30 I put all three monkeys in the tub. I closed the curtain because they were splashing water on the floor. Confident that the noise level couldn't be maintained (it had to either increase or drop off) if anyone was drowning, I neglected a cardinal parenting rule and nipped into the kitchen for five minutes of adult conversation in which no one was hanging off me or interrupting. My brother had appropriated my computer to watch clips of The Colbert Report on Hulu, so I was unsuccessful in my attempt at mature communication.

Around 8:00, all the monkeys dried off and brushed (teeth, hair, whatever), we began Round 1 of "Who is Sleeping Where?" In this game, Monkey1 and Monkey2 change their minds a MINIMUM of fourteen times EACH as to which bed they would prefer for the night ahead, while Monkey3 expresses his distaste for any bed at all.

Beds chosen, we moved into Negotiations about 8:30. That would be a half hour past the time when I aspire to have them all tucked, prayed over, and drifting quickly off to dreamland. Tonight I got through with no stories (too late) and only one snack. (Monkey2 had settled down in Grandpa and Bestemor's bed, so she didn't hear the successful negotiation for a snack on the part of Monkey1.) Meanwhile Monkey3 was nursed and told to stay in his room. (Not the bed, just the room. I was really willing to give a lot on this one.) Did he listen?

Are you kidding? So, I wound up holding Monkey3 in the bed because there was no other way to make him stay. And, I'm sorry, but I have a problem with my children just totally ignoring what they're told to do. Parents who are ok with that might want to stop reading at this point. So, I wrapped one arm around his middle and held him still, while Monkey1 flopped around the top bunk in silent protest on his brother's behalf. (Only silent because I told him to stop being rude, and if I heard another peep he would get a spanking.) I finally got Monkey3 to agree to lie still if I let go. He curled up with his head under my chin, and we both passed out. I have no idea what time it was.

There's nothing quite as sweet as a freshly washed, sleeping Monkey. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going back to bed. If someone catches me mumbling any deep confessions or aspirations as I drift off, let me know in the morning what they were.

Dry, dry, dry

2010-05-05T08:33:00.000-04:00

Yes, here I am. Nothing to say, except, hi, y'all, I'm still alive. The children are cute. The mother is crazy as ever. The Mad Scientist is still gone, gone, gone.

Many a man's been kilt, for calling it a skirt!

2010-04-24T19:52:00.000-04:00

Today we went to the NEFFA folk dance festival. We watched a sword dance, a morris dance, participated in a circle dance (hard to do with a two-year-old on your hip, I found), and attended workshops on children's folk music, a scottish concert, and drumming.

We drove about an hour and a half to get there, and it made for a very long, tiring day. My children were a bit underwhelmed, I think, with being in the car yet again. The biggest hit of the day was when we got home and they got to sit on Uncle Aaron's motorcycle, and launch rockets with him.

I had a really good time, however, and am looking forward to the day when I can take my children to such an event and we will all enjoy ourselves. I love contra-dancing; it's what the Mad Scientist and I did at our wedding, and everyone had a ball. It is so much fun!!

I just have one more thing to say about the festival: I have never seen so many men in skirts at one event. Men in skirts, everywhere! I don't find skirts that comfortable, and I don't really understand the appeal. And just to clarify, I do know the difference between a skirt and a kilt, and, while there were several kilts in attendance as well, I am talking about skirts. Long, ruffled skirts. Shorter, handkerchief-style skirts. I don't have a problem with it. I know that men in lots of other cultures wear skirts (probably by different names). But I don't understand why they would want to. I'm certain someone can enlighten me.

On crabbiness

2010-04-21T20:54:00.000-04:00

Yesterday, after my little jean-buying expedition, I returned to a house full of crabby children. My children have been getting progressively more crabby since the Mad Scientist left. Only a third of the way through this little experiment (not quite, actually) I am not at all happy to note that tantrums are increasing exponentially. I don't really blame them. I feel like pitching a few myself. But that doesn't make theirs any more pleasant to deal with.

One of the first things that happened when I got home was, I was presented with my glasses. Monkey3 had snapped the temple off. They were two weeks old.

The glasses they were replacing had been purchased before I married the Mad Scientist, which is to say the prescription was a bit out of date. Also, in an attempt to assist me in putting them on one morning, Monkey3 had bent the frames so they sat funny on my face. All this meant that, previous to my new pair, wearing my glasses inevitably meant a headache, which produces a crabby mama. It's a no-fail formula.

It turns out that breaking the glasses that replaced the crappy ones I've been putting up with for the last six years or so (they're older than that, that's just when they started being crummy glasses) also produces a crabby mother. Now instead of wearing crummy glasses, I'm totally without, because I had to mail them back to my optometrist for the warranty to be honored. (They have to physically verify the break.) So, when I take out my contacts in the evening, I'm basically blind as a bat. Which, incidentally, also produces a crabby mother.

Right now, being a mother involves a tremendous amount of crabbiness.

The Search for the Perfect Jeans

2010-04-20T21:55:00.000-04:00

Have you looked at any Old Masters' paintings lately? Once upon a time, people knew what a woman was shaped like. Once upon a time, they understood that stomachs don't stay flat (if they ever were to begin with) and that thighs can be both round and beautiful. Once upon a time, a woman with curves was oh, so wonderful to behold. This is as opposed to our current aesthetic, which idolizes a shape resembling a pair of balloons attached to a stick figure.

I was thinking about this today, as I returned to my hunt for a perfect pair of jeans. It's something that I engage in periodically, ~~just for my own amusement~~ because I need pants. I've tried the "skirts only" thing, and it doesn't work for me. So, I have a list, and I hunt through the racks to see how many items I can check off before I admit defeat. I never get the whole list. That's the way the game goes. It isn't that it's long or difficult, or that I'm particularly difficult to please. It's just that fashion designers (apparently) don't know any real women. So, as a favour to the fashion industry which is naturally hanging on my every word, I present Requirements for a Perfect Pair of Jeans:

The perfect pair of jeans would be loose enough through the seat and thigh that I could sit down easily, but tight enough in the waist that when I did, I wouldn't have to worry about what was showing from behind. It would be a dark color, to minimize my lower half. It would be boot-cut, to balance my hips, and sit at my natural waist to cover my mommy-tummy.

Is that so difficult?

(True story: I was nursing Monkey3 the other day, when Monkey2 walked in and started poking at my stomach. "Mama, are you growing another baby?" she asked. "No, why do you ask?" I replied, because I'm a sucker for punishment. "Because," she poked me again, "just look at this!" Then I wrote her out of my will forever. The End.)

The perfect pair of jeans does not exist. This is true because some idiot in the fashion industry (possibly more than one) decided to bring back acid-wash jeans, like the eighties weren't bad enough the first time around. Also because clothing designers have yet to discover that, after curving out to accomodate a woman's hips, you need to curve back in (going from the bottom, up) to take into account the fact that we also have a waist. And boot-cut jeans are too hip to sit at the natural waist. So, really, it's pretty much a lost cause.

The last time I bought jeans, I got them on sale at Chico's. You have to love a store where no one is larger than a 3. I bought jeans that filled all requirements except being boot-cut and fitting at the waist. Then I took them to a tailor, and had her take in the waist a full four inches. FOUR inches!! "Wow" she told me, "your waist is really tiny!" Actually, the truth is I have big hips, but she's been my favourite person since she said that.

I refuse to believe that my shape is that odd or difficult to fit. I am a reasonably sized woman, with a very nice, womanly figure. I don't need to look like Twiggy, and I should be able to buy pants that fit. Standing in the fitting room (where nothing ever does) I repeat to myself: "If Rembrandt were still alive, I would be a goddess!"

Maybe I should look into getting a toga.

The Never-Ending Highway

2010-04-20T00:27:00.001-04:00

I pulled in to my in-laws' house at 2 a.m. Monday morning. I should have arrived (by my calculations, which are sketchy, I admit) between midnight and 1. I have no idea why I was an hour later than I had expected, except to say the the Pennsylvania Turnpike is a never-ending highway. Like the loaves and the fishes (as my mother pointed out), it was simply creating more highway beneath my wheels as I drove, because why on earth else would it take me an entire extra hour to drive from Wheeling, W.V, to the Reading exit?

It was ok though, because I stopped at a quick-mart for gas, and bought a bottle of some totally disgusting energy drink that promised me 5 hours of energy, without sugar or caffeine, and no let down at the end. I have no idea what was in it. It was "grape" flavoured, tasted totally disgusting, and worked. I'm trying not to think beyond that, about what I might actually have consumed. I wouldn't have done it if I were pregnant, but since it's just me we're thinking of here, I decided it was worth it. I was in possession of a car full of tired, sleeping children, and a cat who had been in his carrier (which he hates) since 8:00 that morning. We got on the road at noon, and he yowled pretty much non-stop, all the way to PA. (He hates travelling in the car, too.)

My options were the potion, or a hotel. And there was no way I was leaving my poor cat in his carrier all night, and no possibility of getting him back in it the next day without one of us being scarred for life. So I drank it, turned on country radio, and drove.

The Monkeys all woke up about 1:20, not too impressed with the fact that we were still on the road. I promised them the exit was coming right up, and then told them how their Daddy whips around the curves on 568 whenever we're heading this way. Always makes me nervous, but it's a road he knows and loves. I was a bit more circumspect, since I could feel my buzz beginning to wear off. The last thing I needed at that ridiculous hour, in that situation, was to flip us all off the road. 'Though we were wedged in so tightly with everything we packed, we probably wouldn't have moved at all as the car tumbled down the hill. Ridiculous.

We now return to your regularly scheduled mayem...

2010-04-08T22:08:00.000-04:00

I have lot of things to share with you all. Easter pictures, trip pictures, me surviving without the Mad Scientist anecdotes. I'm not putting any of that up tonight however. Tonight, I'd just like to say one thing:

It's a really good thing my nose works better than my brain:

These were supposed to be hard-boiled eggs for my lunch tomorrow. I'm driving an hour south, to take a workshop on Natural Dyeing at The Fiber Event in Greencastle. The directions said to bring an apron. I have two, but they're both kitchen aprons, and I decided I wanted a dyeing apron. So I got my eggs started (cover with cold water, then bring to a boil - check), and started working on my apron.

Just as I was finishing it, I smelled something funny. Yes, that would be the remains of my eggs. On to round two, in which I will try not to forget the eggs yet again, while typing directions for the sitter.

On the up side, the apron turned out pretty decent. Not bad at all, really, for being whipped up without a pattern at nine thirty p.m.

A timer for the eggs might have been a good idea. This has been a public service announcement.

Today I am wondering...

2010-03-30T16:13:00.000-04:00

Which am I, really?

And Christ's life indeed makes it manifest, terrifyingly manifest, what dreadful untruth it is to admire the truth instead of following it. When there is no danger, when there is a dead calm, when everything is favorable to our Christianity, then it is all too easy to confuse an admirer with a follower.

And this can happen very quietly. The admirer can be under the delusion that the position he takes is the true one, when all he is doing is playing it safe. Give heed, therefore, to the call of discipleship!

If you have any knowledge of human nature, who can doubt that Judas was an admirer of Christ?

~Kierkegaard

Read Ann Voskamp's thoughts on this here.

How are you going through Holy Week?

So, how's life?

2010-03-30T01:01:00.000-04:00

Not much is going on in my life right now...

That's short-hand for "I just packed my soul-mate off the other side of the world for three months, and I'm planning to not think about anything except how I'm getting through the next five minutes, until all the five minute slots before he comes home are used up."

Sort of the equivalent of "I'm fine! How are you?"

Thanks for asking. Do you really want to know? (No one ever does. Sometimes I give a quick answer that leans toward "Show me if you really care, and I'll really tell you." I think that scares people.)

And I'm not trying to sound bitter, really. Just pointing out one of those foibles of humanity, which, really, can be pretty funny.

In the spirit of laughing at the foibles of others, I discovered, this evening, an absolutely hysterical blog. It's called Stuff Christians Like. I was led to it by an Amazon recommendation for the book of the same title. Now that I've e-mailed three different posts to three different people, I thought I'd just put one up for all you anonymous blog readers to enjoy. This one is really funny.

I think I may be in love

2010-03-24T08:45:00.001-04:00

I recently got a food processor from a lovely woman on Freecycle. She not only gifted me with this item but, when I realized it was missing a piece, searched her pantry 'til the absent item materialized, and then made sure that it made its way to me as well. I was very grateful, but, never having had a food processor before, I wasn't quite sure where to start with it.

Then I got the idea to try it with pie crust. Now, ordinarily I hate making pie crust. Cutting in the lard (and yes, I do use lard; sue me, it makes a nicer crust) is a total pain in the patootie, even with the special gizmo. But this time? I just threw all the crust ingredients in the food processor, whizzed it around, and I was good to go:

25 minutes from "Gee, I think I'll bake a pie." to popping it in the oven. My life in the kitchen will never be the same. (Also, possibly, my waistline.)

Waistline aside, that definitely Works For Me.

This post is linked to Works For Me Wednesday, hosted by Kristin at We Are THAT Family. Visit there for other great ideas.

This post is brought to you courtesy of the folks at Vita Familiae

2010-03-23T22:26:00.001-04:00

The last time I posted about bodily fluids on my blog was also Lora Lynn's fault. I take no responsibility. I think better of these things (no, I really do) and then I head over there and she makes it sound so darn funny I end up thinking "Oh, what the heck!" And you all suffer the results.

So, what I didn't put in my last post was how my day actually started, which was like this:

At 6 a.m., my alarm went off. I detached Monkey3 from my chest enough to roll over and hit the snooze button, for which he squawked at me in aggravation. Like he hadn't been nursing for three hours, at least.

Nine minutes later, I hit the snooze button again, and was just drifting off when Monkey1 walked into our room and announced "I stepped in cat poop with my feet, and my hands, and my knee."

I thought maybe he was sleep-walking. He does tend to get rather agitated at times, and he talks in his sleep. The other night he got out of bed, climbed onto Monkey2's bed, and walked the full length of it, then came back down and stood there while I tried to get him back into his own bed. So the sleep-walking thing wasn't totally unfounded. Plus, it meant there (probably) wasn't really any cat poop. I could hope.

"Where was it?" we asked, hoping for an incoherent answer.

"In the kitchen." he replied.

That could have been coherent, but, on the other hand, why on earth would he have been in the kitchen at six a.m? We persisted with our questions, and he gamely described how he had gone into the bathroom and washed his hands (from which "the poop just fell right off"), but not his feet or his knee. Hope dimmed, and we realized (after asking him directly and receiving a very annoyed negative) that he was, in fact, not asleep.

Fortunately (for me) I was nursing, so the Mad Scientist got to head down to the kitchen and assess the damage. But then, Monkey3 decided cat poop was more interesting than nursing, so I ended up cleaning up the mess anyway. It turned out the be vomit, but my relief was tempered by the fact that, while we'd been trying to determine what, exactly was going on, the cat had vomited yet again, just outside the bedroom.

Good Morning! It must go up from there, right? :-)

Today in my life...

2010-03-23T22:01:00.000-04:00

I took the children to Michael's with the stated purpose of getting 1) pretty paper to finish decorating my new chandelier and 2) stuff to include in letters to our sponsored child. I told the monkeys they were getting nothing. That wasn't why we were there.

Right. Before we even walked in the store, I found some wooden models for only $1. Monkeys 1 and 2 got sailboats. Monkey3 wasn't interested, which was fine. Because we weren't there to get stuff for the kids.

Then I found these.

Different animals for everyone. I also found these:

I told the oldest two monkeys they would have to spend their own money on the swords, as I had spent quite enough on treats already. No problem, they were good with that. (And had some money left over from Christmas gifts.) Of course, Monkey3 didn't have a way to approve that, so he didn't get one. Remember that point. It will come up later.

So, returning home, I got Monkey3 down for a nap and then helped my two oldest with their sailboats.

Not bad, if I do say so myself. Monkey3 got up, and I sent them outside with a snack (graham crackers.) Monkey1 wanted peanut butter on his, and solemnly informed me that he would be the waiter, and spread the peanut butter, because he could be a helpful waiter who spreads peanut butter for people. Perfect. I stayed in the house for two seconds of quiet.

Just then I looked at the clock, realized it was 5 o'clock, and the Mad Scientist opened the gate. We chatted in the kitchen for a few minutes, and I suggested Chick-Fil-A for dinner. Because, strange as it sounds (now that I type it out and realize how little I actually accomplished today), I was beat. Then we separated our brawling sons, the larger of whom was beating the smaller with his new foam sword. We determined that the issue was, the youngest wanted to have a sword fight, and so had attempted to appropriate his brother's weapon. We tried to give him his sister's weapon, and she immediately decided she wanted it herself. I decided to buy another sword asap, and we headed out to the car.

As I buckled Monkey1 into his seat, sword in his hand, he announced "If a policeman pulls us over, I am going to point my sword at him and growl ferociously."

Probably, I should have kept a straight face and explained that policemen are generally nice people who do their best to keep us all safe, but that's not what I did. Instead, I laughed. Hysterically.

Tonight was Kid's Night. I didn't know that when we decided to go, but it worked out. There was a balloon artist. Monkey1 was fascinated, and overcame his distaste for talking to strangers so much, that he actually walked up to the man, waited for an opportune moment (with some gentle guidance), and asked him where he learned "to make pretty things with balloons." This was HUGE. My son doesn't talk to strangers. He announced in the car that he also wants "to make pretty things with balloons to make small children happy." My son is now an aspiring balloon artist.

(The Mad Scientist said "There goes my retirement plan.")

I have to share one more thing, because it was just so funny, but I'm going to have to reword slightly to make it more appropriate. Be warned.

Listening to chatter in the backseat on the way back to Michael's (returning one thing, picking up another sword), we were first stunned, and then hysterical, as we heard our sweet Monkey2 casually state "Oh dear, my [nursing apparatus] is just twirling in the breeze!"

This was followed by an announcement that Larry Boy was stuck in the balloon rocket ship, and life went crazily on. :-D

Thoughts on Healthcare

2010-03-17T21:13:00.001-04:00

I was browsing through Ravelry the other day, and happened upon a link to a blog post. Now, this blog is by a woman with dual American/British citizenship. She grew up in the US, moved to GB after college, married an Englishman, and then moved back to the States after 15 years. So her perspective is very different, and I enjoyed her very thoughtful take on the healthcare debate. I thought you might, as well.

I recommend starting with this post: This American's Experience of Britain's Healthcare System. It is excellent.

Then, to help put things into a slightly new perspective, go ahead and read What a Strange School System. That one really made me stop and think (despite the fact that I don't necessarily agree with the idea of the Federal Government administering the public education system, at least to the extent that it currently does.)

These posts came from the blog Potential and Expectations, which I had never seen before this week, but which I plan to peruse in the future. It's always nice to get a new perspective.

What do you think?

Storytime

2010-03-11T22:25:00.000-05:00

Chez-moi, reading is a big deal these days. It's the thing to work on. So it is not, perhaps, surprising that my sweet middle child has taken to "reading" stories at every opportunity. First, about two weeks ago I overheard her in the bathtub, getting very upset with her brother because she needed ALL the letters, because she was writing "a very LONG sentence to God!" Here it is:

Then, she has begun to read stories to her brothers, any time she can get them to sit still and listen. Since we tend to go over and over and OVER the same books, she does a pretty good job of following the basic story-line, even if she rephrases things here and there. I'm pretty certain she has her brothers convinced that she's actually reading:

(Sorry about the camera strap across the corner, there.) The other day she sat down for an impromptu story-time session with Monkey3. There was no dress-code:

Appropriately enough, the story was Where The Wild Things Are, and I can answer that question: They're here. Does anyone else have a Wild Thing or two at their house?

But what if...

2010-03-10T21:36:00.000-05:00

There are a lot of blogs out there that do devotionals. I read several. Right now, my favourites are Run the Earth, Watch the Sky, and Holy Experience.

I don't write devotionals. I wouldn't presume. But this experience tonight got me thinking, and so I wanted to share my thoughts.

This evening, we went to Chick-Fil-A to celebrate. My littlest Monkey turned 2 on Monday, and I was a total delinquent and forgot, until about 3 p.m., that it was his birthday. Then I went out to Knit Night, and when I came home everyone was sick. So we postponed the party.

Driving home tonight, Monkey2 suddenly piped up from the backseat:

"It's really dark outside, and I'm afraid!"

"But, Sweetheart, you don't need to be afraid of the dark."

"I know," she continued, "but what if bad guys come and kill us all?" (Where on earth do they get these questions!?)

I paused. I didn't want to tell her that wouldn't happen, because the truth is, someday, it could. I didn't want to trivialize her fear, or brush it off as silly. Anyone who studies history knows that bad guys in the night have been, and still are, the stark reality of much of the world. Safety is not the norm. When we lie down and sleep in peace, it truly is only because the Lord sustains us. (Psalm 4:8)

"Well," I replied, carefully, "if that happened, we would all go to Heaven to be with Jesus."

And she answered "Yes, but I don't want to go be with Jesus right now."

Isn't that the way we all feel, really? We're afraid, and Heaven sounds nice, and of course you want to go there when you die. But not now. Not today. And we are so afraid that something will take us, now, before we are ready.

The Bible describes a soul longing for God, as "As the hart panteth after the water brooks" (Psalm 42). We are challenged by the apostle Paul who said "For me, to live is Christ, and to die is gain." (Philippians 1:21) We are urged to put our treasure in heaven, that our heart may be there, and not here, where all that we hold dear must eventually decay. (Matthew 6:19-20)

This is a paradox we must live out, day by day, seeking and longing for a reality that seems nothing but shadow, while living with a shadow that is the only reality we can see. But we don't need to be afraid, because the Truth is, what we see now, whether bad guys in the night, or health care reform, or the failure of health care reform, or economic crises, or geological crises, global, local, personal, or nationwide problems, these things are nothing. They have no true power. They are not worthy to be compared.

¹⁵For ye have not received the spirit of bondage again to fear; but ye have received the Spirit of adoption, whereby we cry, Abba, Father. ¹⁶The Spirit itself beareth witness with our spirit, that we are the children of God:
¹⁷And if children, then heirs; heirs of God, and joint-heirs with Christ; if so be that we suffer with him, that we may be also glorified together.
¹⁸For I reckon that the sufferings of this present time are not worthy to be compared with the glory which shall be revealed in us. (from Romans 8)

I try to remember that.

Homeschooling 101

2010-03-09T20:53:00.001-05:00

Well, one thing that I learned after returning home from the conference is, if I'm going to really give homeschooling 110%, it doesn't leave much time for blogging. Sorry about that!

I actually had a really great week last week. I got up at 6 every morning and exercised, did school with the children, and worked on cleaning the house. I kept waiting for the other shoe to drop, midnight to strike, and reality to begin again.

Last night, I went out for a writing workshop at the local library, and my Knit Night. When I returned home, I learned that my two oldest children had been throwing up since I left, and poor Monkey3 followed suit within minutes of my return home. Welcome back to reality.

(Incidentally, at the poetry workshop, we were supposed to write a list of words that we associate with our work. One of the first ones that popped into my mind was "vomit", because really, there's a lot of that in mothering. And I thought "Wow, I actually haven't had to deal with that recently!" Yeah.)

But I was going to tell you about the homeschooling conference! Rick and Marilyn Boyer were the keynote speakers, along with Peter Marshall. We missed both of Rev. Marshall's talks (late arriving, had to leave early because of exhaustion), but we really enjoyed hearing the Boyers. They are parents of 14 children, whom they have been teaching at home for the last 30 years. When they talk about homeschooling, they know what they're talking about!

In the first General Session (which started a few minutes late), Rick Boyer said there are three requirements for being a homeschooler. Pencils ready?
     1. You must be broke.
     2. You must drive a junk car. (To be in the Old Timer's Club, it must be a mini-van with fake wood paneling.)
     3. You must be late, everywhere you go.

I turned to my sweet husband (who is new to this scene, and I think was a bit stunned), and said "Excellent! We're in!" :-)

Mr. Boyer also noted that, these days, the denim jumper is optional for the homeschooling mother, but pointed out that "You always get more respect when you wear the uniform!"

We had a really great time, attended some excellent workshops, and had fun wandering through the exhibit hall. For lunch, we ran across the street to the hotel bar, were I had an experience totally bizarre to someone who first experienced Buffalo Wings only an hour from the Anchor Bar in Buffalo, NY, where they originated:

Carrots notwithstanding, the wings were very good. (The beer was for The Mad Scientist. Just so you know.)

We got to see an old friend, which was lots of fun, and by which, let me hasten to add, I mean a friend who has been such for a long time, and not a friend who is old.

Mr. Demme has been a friend of my family for years, and it was really great to see him again and catch up a bit. He started off telling my husband that, at one point, he and my parents were contemplating a match between me and his son (who is now also happily married). :-) I don't think The Mad Scientist took it too personally. At least, he let me buy the Math-U-See curriculum for next year.

One of my main goals at the conference was to find a phonics and a handwriting program for Monkey1. We focused a lot on math this year, and while he has made great strides in that area, reading has been sorely neglected. We have gotten through lesson 12 in Reading Made Easy, and have done each one at least twice. Crazy. I wasn't sure he had learned anything, so you can imagine my astonishment just a day or two before the conference when he sat down and did this without any help from me at all (except to correct the direction of his "D"):

At some point this year, he has taught himself to write the entire alphabet! And I can't take credit, because I haven't worked with him at ALL on writing. I love homeschooling! I bought a new handwriting/phonics combination program that also incorporates drawing from Memoria Press. It's called First Start Reading. I like it, because the lessons are short, and there is the drawing component. Plus, it starts right in with words in lesson 3, which was good, because poor Monkey3 already knows lots of letter sounds, and I didn't really want to drag him through pages of working on those before he got to do any actual reading. This program seems like a good fit for him, and I'm hoping to see his reading really begin to take off in the next few months. He's definitely ready, so we'll see what happens!

Spending time with my people

2010-02-26T21:29:00.000-05:00

I am exhausted. Totally wiped out. The source of this tremendous lack of energy? I spent the whole day without my children.

Today, the Mad Scientist and I went to Indianapolis for the IAHE homeschooling conference. It was great. I walked in the doors, and there were homeschoolers everywhere. I felt immediately out of place, since I was not wearing jeans, nor a full-length skirt. I instead had opted for a knee-length skirt, and felt like I stuck out like a sore thumb. But oh well; no one else seemed to notice.

We attended workshops all day, and wandered through the exhibit hall in between times. I looked at books and curriculum 'til I was cross-eyed. I also got to visit with a friend (more a friend of my parents, but that's a minor point) whom I haven't seen in ages and ages. Maybe I'll post pictures tomorrow. I didn't take any today. I was too busy deciding what curriculum I'm going to use for next year. Or not use. As the case may be.

More on that tomorrow.

These are a few of my favourite things...

2010-02-23T20:51:00.002-05:00

I love my children (naturally), and I love crafting beautiful things, and doing "art." I do not, however, really enjoy doing art with my children. Because, really, my house is enough of a mess as it is. (True confession: My mother sent the children craft-foam projects for Valentine's Day. They loved them, and had a great time putting them together - even though I threw away the glitter, and wouldn't let them use it AT ALL. Sorry, Mom.)

I try to work it in though, because my kids love it, too. Which brings me to another thing I love: The public library. Tax dollars at work! And I found out a few weeks ago that my local county library actually has a "Preschoolers 'n' Art" program. I think it's even a monthly thing! So I called up my sister-in-law to see if she could take the youngest two monkeys for an hour, and Monkey1 and I had a date.

Now, this was just a week or two ago. But rather than having a project to do with Valentine's Day (the holiday in closest proximity) they decided to do Mardi Gras. So we read a very bizarre story called The Green-Tailed Mouse, about a bunch of field mice who decide to throw a Mardi Gras party. At midnight they all put on their scary masks they've made, but they forget to take them off. So they spend a long, long time running about, jumping out and scaring one another. Then finally someone comes along to remind them to take off their masks, and life goes back to being happy, and no one is frightened any more. Great stuff. (The librarian said she had to look really hard to find a story about Mardi Gras. Why they didn't just do Valentine's Day, I don't know).

Anywho, so the craft project was masks. And a local artist, who happens to be originally from Argentina, was there to help give the children some ideas and guidance in their crafting. She showed a few slides of some carved wooden masks made by a fellow artist in Argentina. There was a really cool one that was the lower half of a jaguar's face. I thought that would be neat!

The last picture she showed was of a red devil-type thing, with three horns coming out the top of its head. Guess which mask Monkey1 wanted to reproduce.

He asked me to cut out "big, purple teeth." I suggested the google eyes when we got home, hoping it wouldn't look quite so menacing. I think it helped, a bit.

I stuck holes in it with a knitting needle, so he could see, and coated it with a layer of Modge Podge to enhance the durability. He was extremely pleased with his mask. And I must say that, despite some misgivings regarding his chosen form of self-expression, he and I had a lot of fun putting it together, and enjoyed spending some time together just being creative. And, as a bonus, I didn't have to clean up the mess when we were done!

I did have to go buy some craft feathers, though, and they have subsequently been stuck all over numerous objects all over the house. Monkey2 got to make herself a hat:

which was consolation for not having gotten to come with us.

All of which is to say, if you have a young child who likes art, check out the local library. It's a fun, easy way to do some crafts with your child, and not have to worry about the mess. That works for me!

Check out other great ideas at Works For Me Wednesday, hosted by Kristin at We Are THAT Family.

Easy Fix

2010-02-21T20:33:00.001-05:00

Children (I was going to specify mine, but I'm pretty certain it's an across-the-board phenomenon) are hard on their clothes. It's unfortunate that, when the clothes wear out, there's usually still a whole lot of good fabric in them. I have a hard time throwing that away, so lots of things wind up in my mending pile...where they usually aren't rediscovered until the child in question has moved on to the next size(at least).

BUT I had a friend who came over last week, and actually offered to help me with a project around the house. And after I trucked her through the house, opening doors that guests are typically not allowed to look behind, and confessing my sins, she helped me start to sort through some things. I was SO inspired that when she left I kept going. I'll show you the results another time (when there's a little more to see), but the point of this post was to say, I unburied Monkey2's favourite jeans while I was organizing:

They were stuffed in a bag in the corner of my craft room, together with the iron-on patches I bought to fix them.

It was a six-month and five-minute long project, and Monkey2 was very pleased. If you eliminated the stuffing-into-a-corner part, it would be a fast, cheap, super easy way to fix a pair of pants.

Learning New Things

2010-02-20T20:33:00.001-05:00

You'll never guess what I have to share with you tonight! Well, yes, it's another story about Monkey3. You could at least PRETEND to be surprised. How about pleased? Can I get some excitement? Good, you on the left! Thank-you!

So, I was in the living room the other day...or, well, wherever I was, it wasn't the kitchen, and I heard Monkey1 and Monkey2 calling me in panicked voices. Which isn't always, necessarily, a cause for concern. But then I realized, they were in a panic about something related to Monkey3's activity. So I listened carefully to ascertain what level of alarm needed to be reached, and how quickly I needed to get there.

"Mama! Monkey3 is pretending to cook himself eggs!! Don't worry though, the burner isn't on!"

Oh, well then, that's not really a prob...wait, is he using real eggs?!?

Well naturally. Why on earth would he have dropped a pretend egg in the pan, when the refrigerator is right there? When I walked into the kitchen there he was, happily stirring his eggs around the frying pan with my spatula:

So...I turned on the burner. I mean, what else was there to do, really? And he was so pleased with his eggs that he cooked all by himself!

And I was left with this:

Only I've realized since then that actually letting him cook the eggs may have been a small miscalculation, because now it's his favourite activity. And I have this sort of mess to clean up on a pretty regular basis. Also, we're going through a lot of eggs.

Wasted Space

2010-02-17T05:21:00.018-05:00

This post is brought to you by Works For Me Wednesday (hosted by Kristin at We Are THAT Family), and my mother, who taught me to find a use for what would otherwise be wasted space.

My refrigerator has really been bothering me lately. It has become a catch-all message board, and frankly was contributing to my stress levels. Then, about two weeks ago, several things in my life came together to form the perfect solution.

First, I have been reading The Nester for a while now, and love that she just whips out her hot glue gun to solve so many problems around the house. Inspiring!

Then, I remembered that I had several corkboard tiles in my craft room, that I picked up at a yard sale a few years ago "because you never know when they might come in handy...and what a great deal!" (I get that from my dad. Genetics played a strong role in this project as well.)

And I noticed an empty space where they would fit in just right, but be easy to hide:

See? It's perfect! Who would ever guess at the disaster that lies within?

Project Specs: I measured the inside width and cut the tiles using my exacto knife (a gift from my husband who managed to prove that there was, indeed, something he could buy me at Lowe's that I would be excited to receive.) and a cutting mat and ruler that are meant for quilting. After the tiles were cut, I used the glue gun to stick them to the cabinet doors. It took approximately ten minutes, total. Probably a bit less. Then I pulled out the cute ladybug pushpins I bought at Wal-Mart, and went to town. Most of the refrigerator contents ended up in this cupboard. The rest are in my spice cabinet:

For that one, I just used the full tiles. I plan to keep recipes there for spice blends that I use on a regular basis:

The refrigerator isn't perfectly clean, but it's SO much better!

Contents: Magnetic Poetry Green Pack, two sponsored children's photos, and some magnets my kids like to play with. 110% improvement. Can you imagine how it looked before, with all that other stuff all over it? Horrible! Corkboard inside the cupboards definitely works for me!!

ETA: I should note that the cork boards do occasionally get a bit loose and threaten to fall, but then I just plug in the glue gun and stick them back up wherever they need it. It only takes a minute. And it's reassuring to know that, if I want to, it's easy to get them down.

Valentine's Day Fun

2010-02-16T20:17:00.001-05:00

We had a very nice Valentine's Day chez moi. We went to church in the morning, where at least half the females were wearing red. In the choir were a woman in a long-sleeved red shirt with a black vest, and a woman in a long-sleeved black shirt with a red vest. They couldn't have done that better if they had planned it; they were in exactly the same outfit, just with the colors reversed. It made it very difficult to concentrate on the music. (Maybe I'm just easily distracted.)

Monkey2 wore an adorable outfit that her Bestemor brought back from her last trip to Ukraine. I promised to take pictures, which is more difficult in this house than one might suppose. What to use as a backdrop?

I decided I didn't like that, because the lighting was bad. So we tried another location:

"Monkey Baby, you need to move. I'm trying to get a picture of your sister." (He has a balloon in his mouth. Just in case you were concerned.)

Ah, very cute. Of course, now she has the other window behind her head, but I decided it was good enough.

Then, after church, we needed something for lunch. Bestemor to the rescue again!

I gave them all their Valentine's candy. Yes, that was lunch. Because for supper...well.

Two weeks ago I bought a ten pound beef brisket, specifically so I could make The Pioneer Woman's brisket recipe. I had an ulterior motive, which was that I wanted the leftovers for her other brisket recipe - tostadas. Have I ever told you of my deep and abiding love for anything resembling Mexican food? So I used the leftover brisket from last week, made quacamole and pico de gallo, and we watched Veggie Tales Jonah Sing Along Songs. Good stuff. The five of us nearly finished off a four-avocado batch of guacamole. I think I ate most of that myself. My favorite part of the evening, however, was watching Monkey1 laught hysterically at every funny part in the movie.

(Confession: I cheated a bit. I used store-bought tortillas, which I bought already crispy, and canned tomatoes for the pico de gallo. Also, I left out the jalapenos. Apologies to my Mexican friends; I'm sorry, but I can't take the heat.) (It drives me crazy that I can't put a tilde on my n in this program!!)

So, we had a very nice day. I think Monkey2's favourite part was her new socks:

I made her take them off when she went to bed yesterday, or she'd probably still have them on. :-)

Keeping the Monkeys Busy: a great idea

2010-02-09T21:46:00.004-05:00

Wal-Mart sells little wooden models in their craft department. They cost 88 cents, each. They're cheaper than the snacks at the check-out line, and if he's already holding a model car, you can tell a child "Nope. You already got a treat, it's right there." (Note: Do not ask if he wants to give it up in exchange for the candy as a way of putting an end to the discussion. This can backfire.)

The other day we bought a bunch of them. Monkey1 and Monkey2 actually used some of their own money, which I believe was left from Christmas, and got two each. Then I bought one for Monkey3 so he wouldn't feel left out.

Once nap-time started, I got out freezer paper. I folded over the edges just a bit, to keep it from rolling back up. Then I squeezed gobs of paint directly onto the paper. (I have also used a rectangle of cardboard, such as could be cut from a cereal box, for a palette in the past.) They shared a cup of water for rinsing brushes, each had their own rag for drying brushes and taking care of minor messes, and generally had a ball and kept themselves entertained for about an hour. That definitely works for me!

A word of caution: If you try this at home, make sure you put the paint away before nap-time is over. I didn't. When Monkey3 woke up and found it, he unscrewed the cap off one of the bottles, and carefully poured it all over the rest of the bottles and his high chair.

For more good ideas, visit Works For Me Wednesday, hosted by Kristen at We Are THAT Family.

Let's Define Our Terms

2010-02-08T21:32:00.002-05:00

Mothers know about messes. I can personally attest to the fact that there are few messes greater than those a troupe of preschool-aged children are capable of making. (For evidence, see here, here, and here.) But, did you notice something? Actually, none of those messes required an entire troupe of monkeys. They were all made by the same monkey, (who shall remain nameless, except to say that it was this one:

and doesn't he look cute in his daddy's boot?) He never needs help. Which is good, because, well:

This is Monkey1, who called me into the dining room in an absolute panic because he "made a big mess" all over his pants. He's pointing to the cause of the upset. I couldn't find it without his help. I think it was salsa.

My mother has always said, that if the older of my two brothers had been born first, he would have been an only child. Some children just require more energy to parent. This one:

(He wanted his picture taken, too, and is smiling for the camera) He might just do me in. I'm not sure I have the energy reserves available that are necessary to parent this child. So it's good that, when the other two start making "messes," it doesn't mean quite the same thing.

Thought-provoking question

2010-02-08T15:23:00.001-05:00

Browsing through some blogs (yes, I should be cleaning), I came across this thought:

I find it entirely ironic and downright ignorant on our part that church growth is celebrated while family growth (where Christians should assume that added members will be discipled and brought up in the faith) is frowned upon and even discouraged.

Read the rest of the post here. Speaking of which, I was in Wal-Mart a few days ago and happened to notice the current cover of People magazine... Which I would just like to say a few things about. (Warning: Rant Ahead)

In the first place, I think it is totally obnoxious that they are insinuating that one child with problems means a couple should never have another child. Not only obnoxious, but ridiculous. But, let's face it, if this was a reality tv family who only had one child, or maybe if it was their second child struggling, no one would be insinuating they needed to re-think their birth-control (or lack thereof). Which leads me to my second point.

Could everyone just GET OVER the fact that the Duggars have chosen to not use birth control? They don't claim that everyone needs to be like them. They provide for and love every one of their children. They aren't on welfare; they are self-sufficient. What is everyone's beef with this family?!

I have an idea: Maybe we could just all mind our own business, and prayerfully consider the choices that God would have us make, personally. Then we could all stop worrying about the choices God is calling other people to make. Just think how much less stress there would be in the world, if no one ever got agitated because they didn't agree with what someone else was doing. A large family, in and of itself, is not illegal, and it's not immoral, so I really don't understand why everyone feels a need to criticize, or even comment at all.

Should this worry me?

2010-02-07T21:20:00.003-05:00

A few days ago I was called into the kitchen by frantic shouts of "Monkey3 is into the butter!" (WHAT is it with this child and the butter?!) I arrived to find that "into" was a fairly accurate description. He had GOBS of it all over his hands, and was doing his best to rub it in like hand-creme. In the process, he was dropping chunks of butter all over his pants, the chair, and the floor. And just look what he did to the bread!

I'm guessing he's not going to have a career in surgery. Can you imagine?!

Do you remember this post, wherein I discussed why ophthalmology is probably not the best career choice for Monkey1? Don't you just wonder what they're actually going to end up doing? I'm waiting with bated breath. :-)

This post is entered in Friday Funnies at Homesteader's Heart.

A Monkey's-eye View

2010-02-05T20:47:00.001-05:00

Monkey1 really likes to take pictures. So it wasn't too surprising, the last time I downloaded pictures, to find a few I didn't remember taking. They have a nice, abstract quality about them, and I like having this little insight into how the world looks to him. Pardon the following assault on your eyeballs..

This is the bottom half of their "school bus." The bus came into being early on in our school year, when I was informed that they wanted to go to school so they could ride the bus. Prompted by my favorite photographer (who has since changed jobs, and is sorely missed!!) I gave them a large box and let them paint their own bus. They decided it was a city bus, so should be blue, and played in it happily until I tripped over it one too many times, and it went to the large playroom in the sky.

The alphabet playmat I bought at a yardsale. I paid $5. I thought it would make a great "rug" for their play area, which it would have if they had left it on the floor. It looked a bit too much like a puzzle to convince them that it was actually intended to be a floor covering, and so this, also, is no longer with us. I gave it to Goodwill, and the beauty of thrifting most things is, when they outlive their usefulness, I don't feel a need to hang on to them just because of the money I spent. I definitely think we got $5 worth of playtime out of that mat.

Pillow on the sofa. I have no idea why. Perhaps Monkey1 was still in his sleeping-on-the-couch phase at this point?

Dust rag, containing what appears to be actual dust smears. I wonder who on earth put those there?

A gift from the monkey's aunt, and one of their favourite toys. Notice, it's the only thing that he's looked down at, so far. Do you remember when the world was mostly over your head?

Something they see all too frequently, I'm afraid. Ah, well. Wow, is that an unflattering angle, or what? Just for the record (why am I always saying that when I put up pictures of myself??) I don't think that is a very good representation of what I actually look like. I must have been focusing hard on something!

Something Lighthearted (for a change)

2010-02-04T16:21:00.000-05:00

Is anyone else tired of all the depressing stuff I've been blogging about lately?

Good. How about some Monkey Moments?

The day the Mad Scientist walked in his graduation ceremony was a Sunday. He was ushering during second service at our church. I hate sitting by myself, so usually when he does this (every three months, for the whole month, I think) we go to first service together. Then he ushers during second service, and I either find a quiet corner and knit, or hang out in the book store nook and read. It's a great system.

This particular Sunday, I decided, was extra special. We've spent FIVE YEARS getting to this point. So during second service I went home to put on some make-up, and generally tried to go the extra mile to look special for his big day. This took me the entire hour. (I'm a bit out of practice with the cosmetics.)

I picked everyone up as the service was ending. The children didn't notice anything out of the ordinary, 'til I leaned in to buckle them into their car seats. Monkey2 looked carefully at my face, and then said "Mama, why are your lips all red?"

"Because" I replied, "I painted them."

"Why did you do that?" She asked. Fair question.

"To make them look pretty." I answered. Then I made my fatal error. "Did it work?" I queried.

She examined my face once more, carefully, then sweetly replied "I don't think so."

So much for sprucing up a bit. This afternoon, Monkey1 decided he is going to be a cowboy. (He was looking at The Pioneer Woman's mustang photos over my shoulder at the time. Yet another good reason to read her site.) Monkey2 promptly decided that sounded like a wonderful career choice; she would be a cowboy as well. For this, I was informed, she would require "a cowboy hat, a bull whip..., and a horse." I'm still trying to decide if I should be concerned that the bull whip is essential, while cows, apparently, are not.

:-D

Timely Reminder

2010-02-02T12:51:00.001-05:00

This morning I looked around my house, and I cried. There is a mess in every room, a pile of stuff in every corner. I told my husband I am a failure as a homemaker, a homeschooler, a wife, and a mother. I believed it. I told him the solution was for me to get rid of all my craft things, because they take up so much space. And I cried as I said "but that's the only thing I do that's just for me."

I could type out a list of home maintenance tasks I have not taken care of recently, but that's not the point of this post. The point is, that as I sat on my (dirty) kitchen floor, crying out my failure to maintain my high ideals, I prayed "God, help me."

Then I got up, and went about my day, determined to make a dent in the chaos before it consumed me. But I was totally overwhelmed, so instead I sat down at the computer. And as I scrolled through my blogroll, I found this post over at Holy Experience (which I only added yesterday.) And these words hit me right between the eyes:

In those hours of margin, I’ll have a sliver of time for leisure. I’ll take mine tapping keys, reading. Others might sew, knit, paint. But it’s not as though I simply plow through the day’s work in order to get to what I really want to do. But rather, the leisure projects of a mother’s fringe hours, or of anyone engaged in a Christian model of genuine work, these hobbies aren’t the desired end of our work or escape from it, but are simply a change in pace, a recharging rhythm, refreshing us to return with renewed passion and vigor to our ultimate callings, our purposeful work.
Because all work is sacred work, worthy of the diligence, the effort. I pick up lost legos, dry the pots, whish the toilets and this serves God. For if I can’t meet God in my work, where do I meet Him? If I don’t serve Him here, where do I serve Him? Are we not called to serve God in the work – not merely in some imagined, mirage place outside of work?

In a model of Christian work, we live one-piece lives, all weaving together into a sacred cloth as unto the Lord with no false seams between God and our days.

And in our work, sacred work because there is no such thing as secular work, we first serve God. I’ll put away the laundry, sweep the crumbs, polish the windows not to serve my family primarily, but to serve God. Because, “whenever man is made the centre of things, he becomes the storm center of trouble,” writes Dorothy Sayers. “The moment you think of serving people, you begin to have a notion that other people owe you something for your pains…. You will begin to bargain for reward, to angle for applause.”

God, help me to live a one-piece life, where my work, and my leisure, are done to your glory. Help me to find the balance between chaos and order, that neither may rule my life. Rather be you the center, and the focus, not crowded out by other things. Remind me every day, that what I do, I do for you.

Really, I need to just read through that entire site. So far, every single post I've looked at has brought me to tears. But right now, I have laundry and dishes calling my name. God's grace to you all.

The power of words

2010-02-01T13:47:00.001-05:00

I am totally and completely stealing this post from Bonita...

Sorry! But this gave me goosebumps, and it seemed easier to post the video here, than to send everyone there a follow another link. I hope that was ok. Anyway, here it is:

On another note, this post, over at Domestic Dissident, accomplished something I thought was not possible, which was to make me want to read the Twilight series. I haven't yet, but I'm thinking about it...

And this post, which I found by following a link from We Are THAT Family, also made me cry. As did this one, from the same blog. It's called Holy Experience, and I'm adding it to my sidebar. It's been a very cathartic afternoon, on-line. Back to my laundry now!

Randomness of the highest order

2010-01-28T22:04:00.001-05:00

Last night (really late) I downloaded all the pictures off my camera. Wow, that was LONG overdue! So, in no particular order, here are the ones that don't really go anywhere else:

This is Monkey3, taking a nap with the cat. I had to take a picture, because normally Thorvald runs away when Monkey3 decide to cuddle with him. It's all well-intentioned (Monkey3 really does love animals), but things get a little rough. So this was sweet. I think Thorvald has figured out that Monkey3 really doesn't mean anything by it. Today he was nesting on my bed, and when Monkey3 climbed up to say hello he started purring. He ran away, but he was purring. :-)

This is in the car on the way to PA over Christmas break. Totally gratuitous Monkey3 shot. He's so cute!

The monkeys, "flying a mission" with their daddy. It's some new computer game the Mad Scientist has found, with which Monkey1 is completely in love. I'm treated to a chorus of "Yes! I blew up the enemy! Look out! Can we land on the aircraft carrier?" The only redeeming factor is, the Mad Scientist didn't want to actually buy the game, and the demo only works for 20 minutes. Built in automatic shut-off is a happy thing, for computer games!

Yesterday we went to Wal-mart. I have discovered these small wooden models in the craft department. They only cost 88 cents each. Monkeys 1 and 2 bought 2 each, with their own money! So we got out the paint. Unfortunately, I didn't put it away when Monkey3 got up from his nap...so while they finished painting, he carefully unscrewed the top of the silver paint, and carefully poured it all over the paint box and his high chair. Mostly in the paint box, so it wasn't too bad to clean up. And the older monkeys did a very nice job painting their models.

Then yesterday evening, Bestemor called to see if she could read to Monkey1. They are reading The Wonderful Flight to the Mushroom Planet together. Since the Mad Scientist wasn't home yet (with the computer, for Skype), she read to him over speaker phone. He sat and listened to two chapters before she had to go!

How Not to Potty-Train

2010-01-26T21:04:00.001-05:00

Do you all remember Monkey3? Well, have I got a story for you! (No pictures though. You'll thank me later.)

So, Monkey2 is officially potty-trained, which has led to tremendous rejoicing chez moi, and specifically on the part of Yours Truly. I will say, every. single. time. she makes it into the toilet, I feel like jumping up and down, and cheering. (As a side note, I would like to point out that this marks the first time since Monkey2 was born, 3.5 YEARS AGO that I have had only ONE child in diapers.)

So I'm really excited about potty training these days. Sunday my friend was telling me her son has suddenly decided to potty train himself. ( I did this at age two. Why can't my children take after me?) Her son is the same age as Monkey3.

That afternoon, I was sitting on the sofa when Monkey3 came over to say hello. As he was climbing me, the sofa, and everything else in sight, I heard a little toot. I said "Do you need to use the potty?" Yes, he did. He thinks it's great fun to sit on the potty. After watching him for three or four minutes I decided nothing was happening, but since he wasn't ready to be done yet, I just left him there and went on about my business.

Finish shaking your heads in pity and disgust, and then I'll continue.

Right, so about five minutes later, I asked my poor husband to check on Monkey3. He walked around the corner into the bathroom, and I heard "Oh, no. Oh, disgusting!"

I overcame my urge to suddenly become very occupied with Something Very Important That Cannot Be Put On Hold, and peered nervously through the bathroom door. What a sight. There was Monkey3 on the changing table with poop smeared all over his legs. There was poop on the floor. There was poop on the counter. There were several large pieces in the sink. I asked the Mad Scientist "Did you put this in the sink?" He just looked at me. (I deserved that.)

So he cleaned up the monkey, while trying not step in any smears. I cleaned up everything else. We gave Monkey3 a stern explanation of the idea that poop belongs in the potty. (I thought about my poor MOPS leader, who shared at the last meeting that she had just explained to her son that "Poop is not art." Now I have also had that talk.) Then we threw him in the bathtub.

It makes the finger paint all over my walls seem like such a blessing. :-) It could be so much worse...

(To see the post that inspired me to tell you this story, head over to Vita Familiae.)

A funny family story

2010-01-21T08:43:00.001-05:00

Reading Dandy's post over at Spontaneous Clapping, about her difficulties choosing a Twitter name, reminded me of this story:

My dad's father always used to say, that what is supposed to be will be. Shortly after my grandfather died, my dad got a new truck and decided on a vanity plate. To remember his dad he wanted it to say "Supposed to be", but of course that wouldn't fit. He shortened it to "Supzed2B." Every time I saw it, all I could think was "'S'up, Z?" Very homeboy, but not really what my dad was going for. Then one day, he and my mother were sitting in a parking lot, having a Major Disagreement. About 20 minutes into this "discussion" someone knocked on his window...

It was a lady, who, when he opened the window, said "I can't stand it anymore, you have to tell me what that license plate is supposed to say!" :-D

Now his plate says "Sposd2B," or something along those lines. Much easier to decipher!

What I am praying tonight

2010-01-20T21:59:00.000-05:00

"Hear my cry, O God; attend unto my prayer. From the end of the earth will I cry unto thee, when my heart is overwhelmed: lead me to the rock that is higher than I. For thou hast been a shelter for me, and a strong tower from the enemy. I will abide in thy tabernacle for ever: I will trust in the covert of thy wings. Selah...O prepare mercy and truth, which may preserve him. So will I sing praise unto thy name for ever, that I may daily perform my vows." Psalm 61

Another day in the life of me

2010-01-19T17:44:00.000-05:00

The Monkeys are all downstairs watching Bob the Builder build an Eco-home. And speaking of that, I have found a new dream house. How beautiful is that? I love it! (Yes, I'm serious. I absolutely would love to live in a house like this. The Mad Scientist says that maybe we could build an outbuilding, a sort of small barn, for the children, and keep the house for ourselves.)

Today, Lora Lynn made me laugh at the idea of Abraham pulling up his Big Boy Underoos. A timely reminder to let go, and let God.

I needed that, because I spent a lot of time today, flipping through stories like this with the children, crying for the people of Haiti. We have a sponsored child in Haiti (I use the term "child" loosely; he's 18) named Jackson. Monkey2 has decided we need to buy a really long rope, to stretch to Haiti and bring him here to live. Last night she acquired an invisible friend named Jackson. She's taking very good care of him.

Tonight I am grateful for my warm home, my beautiful children, my wonderful husband, and our country, which while not perfect, still affords us peace and security in a measure about which many others can only dream.

TGIF

2010-01-14T20:39:00.001-05:00

What a week.

On Sunday, two weeks late, I started spotting. I hadn't taken a pregnancy test, because I was afraid...well. I was afraid that exactly what happened, would happen. I didn't want to get my hopes up, only to have them dashed again. So before I even knew it had arrived, this baby was gone.

I missed it. Missed the opportunity to rejoice over a new life. Missed the chance to rub my tummy, whispering words of love to the child growing inside me. Missed all the joy. All that's left is the sadness.

Resolved for the future: Love Fearlessly.

Links to look at

2010-01-11T21:29:00.000-05:00

Actually only one link: This article looked like it could be really good, though I haven't actually had a chance to read through it yet.

It's been sitting on my desktop, waiting for me to resign from my politician-influencing aspirations and come back to my real life, where everything needs to be organized. Hopefully, someone else will find it helpful, as well.

Just your typical day...

2010-01-08T11:44:00.000-05:00

Nothing much going on here. This morning I told Monkey3 he had to quit nursing around 6 (I have no idea what time he climbed into our bed), prompting a fit, so we all got up about 6:30 (resolution to get up earlier - check) Breakfast with the Mad Scientist was a nice out-of-the-ordinary feature of the morning. I checked my e-mail, and was stunned to see that the rather irate e-mail I fired off to a legislator had actually generated a (rather irate) personal response. (Get more involved with politics - check. Do it politely - needs work).

7:00 - The Mad Scientist shoveled the walk while I tried to determine what Monkey1 would eat, so he would stop being crabby. Monkey3 wanted to go out and play in the snow, so I had to pause breakfast preparations to get him suited up and outside. I began formulating my reply to the legislator, reiterating my opinion in greater detail, but more politely. Monkey2 woke up, also crabby and hungry. At ten to eight, the optometrist's office called to schedule my eye appointment. What doctor's office calls at ten to eight!?

8:00 - I sat down to type out my reply. Monkey3 wanted to come in. Monkey2 lay on the floor, whining that she didn't like any breakfast options, but still insisting I feed her. I ignored her and continued my political activism.

8:30 - Phone rang, and it was a friend telling me that the legislator's bill, to which I had objected, has not been voted on yet, so there is a point to continuing to type up a reply. I have one week to make some kind of impression. It's worth a try. Monkey2 finally decided what she wanted to eat. Monkey1 needed help getting his snowclothes on.

9:00 - Breakfast preparations interrupted yet again to help Monkey1 get up without ruining his snow angel. Monkey3 decides to go back out. Monkey2 wants to join them, but is told she cannot go out with nothing on but a snowsuit. I sit down to research and type a bit more, while she processes this information.

9:30 - Monkey2 has used the potty (resolution: save my sanity - check), but still objects to clothing under the snow suit. I stand firm. Monkey3 is cold and needs to come in, so I unsuit him yet again. He decides to get out the playdough.

10:00 - Playdough is not sufficiently engaging this morning. Monkey1 comes back in and asks for legos, but doesn't want to share them. Monkey2 finally gets all her clothes on, so I help her suit up and go outside. Playdough put away, legos come out. Then I have to run out to the car to bring in the Christmas legos. I suit myself up (less thouroughly than the children. I'm not crazy enough to stay out in the snow longer than I have to)

10:30 - Everyone back inside and fed, they all settle down with the legos. I type, revise, and revise again, determined to make my point politely, but thoroughly. I include links to research. I quote her response.

One hour later, I realize that a career as a political activist may be too much at this stage in my life, as I finally send off my (much revised) reply. No wonder I never get any "real" writing done. Letters to legislators take a lot of time!

Be it here resolved that...

2010-01-05T15:58:00.002-05:00

Five days into the new year, and I'm a bit behind. Can I get a shout out from other stay-at-home moms?

I'm still thinking about changes I'd like to see this year. To start with, two days ago I sat down and made out a menu for the entire month. Then I bought almost all the ingredients at Aldi's. (Better eating and keeping the budget, check.) Don't you love New Year's Resolutions? {insert sound of chirping crickets}

Yeah, me too. And to be honest, I've never made any before this year. But we have reached a cross-roads in our lives, and are fortunate that it is one we can recognize before getting to the other side. It seemed like a good time to stop, evaluate, and think through any changes we would like to make. But I'm new to the whole "resolution" scene, so tell me, what is the best way to make changes? Do you like to jump in with both feet, and will a drastic overhaul be maintainable long-term? Or do you prefer to start slow (and how do you keep from puttering to a stand-still)? What is your best advice for making permanent change in one's life?

(The standard caveats when requesting advice can be seen at the end of this post) :-)

This post is linked to Works For Me Wednesday's Reverse Edition, at We Are THAT Family.

The Writer in the Family

2009-12-22T14:07:00.001-05:00

I told a friend that you can tell our Christmas letter was written by the writer in the family (that would be me) and not the scientist. I don't think scientists generally use words like "morass". Not that it's so long, it's just more of an English Major kind of word.

Anyway, all those notes I've been sending hither and yon have really gotten me in the mood for writing letters, and since the budget can't handle another postal onslaught yet, and because I hope that many people who stop by my blog will fall into either one category or the other, here's one I wrote today:

Dear friends and family,

     People always say that God never gives us more than we can handle - the corollary statement being, of course, that one wishes his opinion of one was not quite so high. With David's long hours, repeated family illness, my recent miscarriage, and my teething nearly-2-yr.-old, I've been "on my last nerve" for a while now. This fall I've begun to truly understand those who look forward with such hope to that sweet invitation "Enter, now, into thy Father's rest." Because rest simply hasn't been a part of my recent existence.
     But God...that wonderful phrase. He does see. He does know. And just as my house began to burst at the seams with the uncontainable energy of my children, the snow began to fall. You'll pardon me, I'm certain, for viewing this as a personal gift.
     The first morning they woke up to snow on the ground, they couldn't get outside fast enough. Monkey1 had been asking for a snowball fight for over a week, and the fact that the snow was barely a dusting didn't slow him down at all. Of course Monkey3 had to be suited up and sent out, too. And a blessed silence descended on my home. I remember playing in the snow for what seemed hours as a child, but I never appreciated what a gift that was to my mother until now.
     I've just run out to heft the second layer of snowman to its rightful place, and now I'm sitting in silence broken only by the ticking clock. Bliss. (Incidentally, as we peeled wet layers off our children when they returned indoors that first morning, we realized Monkey2 had been in such a rush to get outdoors, she had put her snowsuit on over nothing but her pull-up.)
     This has been a difficult season for so many people, and a period of rest is hard to come by. Let me encourage you to lean hard on God through difficult times. Know that he will carry you when another step seems impossible. I've been there. And when those moments of rest appear (all too briefly, at times!) don't grasp them too tightly. There will be another. As my moment passes (and the children begin pounding at the door) I will move forward to the next thing, trusting that rest will come again just when I need it most.
     If you'll excuse me now, I have a young man requesting details for blowing up "snowmans." :-)
     God's grace and peace to you all.

~The Rambling Housewife

Christmas Decorating Mishaps

2009-12-16T21:07:00.002-05:00

This post over at Rural Revolution made my day. What a funny story!

Christmas Letter

2009-12-15T14:12:00.001-05:00

I know there are mixed feelings regarding Christmas letters. I have always enjoyed getting them, seeing pictures of each family, and reading their news. Maybe my parents' friends just didn't take many exotic vacations, but I've never seen them as simply a platform for bragging. Rather, it was a nice way to catch up one's entire circle of family and friends, without having to write "Jimmy lost his first tooth!" twenty times in a row.

The first year we were married we were far too broke to contemplate sending any sort of Christmas card or letter to all our friends and family. The second year, I went a little crazy and handmade over fifty Christmas cards, sending each one out with at least a small note. That was before I had children.

I'm a bit of a perfectionist, and of course the Mad Scientist started grad school the next year, so the combination of a tight budget (again) and knowing there was no way I could possibly replicate my feat of the previous year meant that I actually haven't sent out anything at all for...four years now. Is that right? Wow, that's atrocious. No wonder none of our friends send us a card anymore.

But this year, big changes are in the air, so I bought some Christmas stationary and wrote a letter, just a quick update, to let everyone know what is going on in our lives. I hope we hear back from them. My mailbox has been looking so forlorn, with nothing in it but bills and junk mail...

Here's my Christmas letter (names have been changed to protect the guilty parties)

Dear friends and family,

Our life has felt like a slow plodding the last few years, trudging along through the morass of grad school. Much like the wise men, we have traveled such a tremendous distance, trusting that God had put us here for a reason, and that we were following his leading. Suddenly, the end has appeared, and we have moved into a frenetic pace where everything must be done yesterday. It’s exhausting, and somewhat frightening. Six months ago I knew what my future looked like – an indefinite period of long hours and little pay, small children, and a perpetually messy house (despite my best efforts). It was difficult, but there was joy there too, day to day, and at least I knew what to expect. Now everything is uncertain, and I’m reminding myself that this is a time for excitement, and not panic!

The Mad Scientist meets with his committee this week to ask, “If I ask you to marry me, will you say ‘yes’?” (I was the last person he said that to.) In other words, if he presents his thesis, will they graduate him? We expect the answer to be yes, and he is actually scheduled to walk in the graduation ceremony on Sunday. It’s marking, not quite the end, but the beginning of the end of this chapter in our lives.

He has been offered a post-doctorate position in Germany. We will leave in early March and be gone approximately 3 months. I will return at the end of May for my youngest brother’s wedding, and the Mad Scientist will be home soon thereafter. We have no idea what is happening after that, and would appreciate your prayers in that area.

All the children are well, and growing up so quickly. Monkey1 was 5 in October, Monkey2 will be 4 in July, and Monkey3, my little Wild Man, will be 2 in March. I started home schooling Monkey1 this year. It was the only logical response to his perpetual questions, and really just put an official title on what I was already doing.

I started a blog several months ago, and if you’d like more frequent updates on our life, that is the place to check. The address is www.kitchensinkinc.blogspot.com.

We have been blessed so much with family and good friends. We think and speak of each one of you often, and hope you will take time to send some news our way, as you are able.

Sincerely,

The Rambling Housewife

I'm the Julenissen

2009-12-13T22:46:00.003-05:00

In Norway, the julenissen are little gnomes, and they help decorate for Christmas. I wished I could import some, the winter I was pregnant with Monkey2. I was overwhelmed, and hadn't really bothered doing much for Christmas. We had just moved, and Monkey1 was a handful I had trouble dealing with in pregnancy-induced haze of exhaustion. So Christmas got put on a back burner.

Then I went to my Mom's Night Out, which is hosted by our senior pastor's wife for the young mothers in our church. And her house was beautiful (as usual), and I came home with a different perspective.

Catherine Marshall, in her novel, Christy, talks about one character whose house was decorated beautifully. She says Miss Alice used simple things, such as a bowl of apples, but always with an eye toward enhancing their beauty and accenting the room with color and form. And she says, "manlike," the men didn't notice these small touches of grace and beauty. But she could see them respond to them when they entered Miss Alice's home, just the same.

I determined to be like Miss Alice. I, too, could choose to create an atmosphere of beauty and simplicity, using what I had available, to bless my family.

It being Christmas, (but the budget being very tight) I thought about how I could add a few extra touches. That year, I went to Big Lots and purchased a few candles and some inexpensive spools of ribbon. Then I used some small figurines we had gotten from my husband's grandfather's house, and decorated for Christmas. And the Mad Scientist noticed, and was blessed.

The next year, last year, I got some more ribbon, and we put up a tree. I spread about a few more candles I had found at Goodwill, and some small oil lamps I found someplace. And the house was beautiful, with just those simple touches.

This year, the monkeys were old enough to enjoy decorating for Christmas, too. I determined to let them be a part of it (and not to crab at them if things didn't go the way I thought they should...no matter how hard I had to bite my tongue). I bought to gingerbread kits at Aldi's, and during Monkey3's nap we (read: they) decorated them. They had fun, and I didn't crab at all. I was very proud of myself.

Then, The Nester announced she was hosting a holiday decoration house tour at her blog. She posted a tutorial on using what you have, and linked to someone (wish I could find that link!) who made beautiful things...from dollar store stuff. Now, THAT I can do! So I was totally inspired. Not only that, I also had a deadline, so I was a woman on a mission!

Thomas Edison said all you need to invent is a good imagination, and a pile of junk. I had the Nester filling in the imagination part for me, so I hit the dollar store for my pile of junk. This is how you make Christmas pretty on a budget. Here's my pile of junk:

Lots of glass jars:

Lots of ornaments (I was trusting they'd look great, once they were in the jars):

I pulled out my trusty glue gun, and got to work. Here is what I came up with. First, I glued a big vase onto a little one, and a small vase onto a sort of glass ice cream dish-type-thing, and filled those and one apothecary jar I had with ornaments:

Those went up on the china hutch in the schoolroom, with the gingerbread houses. The globe is stored there year-round, but I don't think it's inappropriate to include a globe in the Christmas decor. The dining room is where I hang my art and things that have come from various places all over the world, and the globe in this season reminds us that Jesus came for the whole world:

So that is a touch of Christmas in the dining/schoolroom. In the living room, here is the advent log I told you about in this post. It's on a shelf over the sofa. The ribbon is from two Christmases ago, purchased (I believe) at Big Lots. (I learned how to make bows while working at Michael's craft store. I have a tutorial planned for later this week.)

On top of the bookshelf, I put the ceramic Christmas tree with the little tiny lights, which was left in our basement by the previous owner. I love it, and so do the Monkeys. They all helped put in the lights.

There's also a large cinnamon candle, left from my Big Lots trip two years ago. The table by the front door got my trifle dish, plus all the shoes from St. Nicholas Day. Also a painting that I absolutely love, of St. Nicholas worshiping the Christ Child.

And the other cinnamon candle. I believe I got the cloth at a thrift store. I'm going to hang a wreath on that wall, but tonight it was either make the wreath or put up the blog post. You can tell what I chose.

The alcove just off the living room is the other room that is currently decorated. Saturday morning we drove to a town a few miles over, to pick up a t.v. cabinet I had found on Craig's List. No more coats looking messy on overloaded pegs, but the top was so bare! So I dug through my fabric stash, and put some boxes and things under it to add different heights. Then I got out the box of ceramic figurines, some more glass jars, and my oil lamps. Also the candelabra (definitely my most expensive piece of decor) that was a gift from my mother-in-law. I put my Peruvian Nativity set front and center. It was super discounted at Ten Thousand Villages because Mary had been broken and then repaired, but I don't think you can tell:

You can't tell in that picture, but the fabric has little red and gold hearts all over it. Perfectly appropriate for Christmas, and I can leave it up there for Valentine's Day! Here's a view of the whole armoire (or at least most of it):

Oh, poor thing. It's just crying for a tassel on that knob, but I had to make do with a beeswax angel I already had. It smells nice, and really doesn't look bad at all.

Now, the tree. The Nester said that a Christmas tree should have a theme. I went with "Child-Friendly." We used my ornaments that I got every Christmas growing up, plus a few more we've collected along the way. We strung lights, and I helped the children make popcorn strings. (They got tired of it before we had enough to cover the tree. It fits right in with my theme.) At the top I put a small bow wired onto a large bow to make a bow full enough to look decent on this rather large tree (about 8 ft.). But before I show you the finished product, I have one other picture to show you. This, my friends, is what happens when you tuck your tree into a corner, and put your lights and ornaments mostly on one side:

Yes, that would be our fully decorated tree, on the floor. Fortunately, nothing broke (except one angel wing, but I can glue it.) Boy, that is NOT a noise you want to hear! But we stood it back up, and I put everything back on. (I bet I'm the only person who has decorated the same tree twice this year!) And the finished product is quite nice, even if not completely "themed." :-)

Note Monkey3 peering around his door, trying to see what is going on. For a tree skirt, I used a quilt that was a gift from my mother-in-law. I don't remember if she made it, or perhaps her grandmother pieced it. There are a few other small touches here and there. I still need to make the wreath, and there's a large dresser in our bedroom that I have to get cleaned off so I can put up our German Pyramid. But for the most part, the house is decorated. I spent $40 at the dollar store, and didn't use everything I bought so some of it will go back. This year, I'm the Julenissen, and my family gets to enjoy the Christmas atmosphere. They'll notice the detail, though, because I'm going to drag them around the house and point out every little thing! :-) This Christmas, make merry for your family and yourself with some simple decorations. It doesn't take much time or money, but the results are beautiful!

This post is linked to Sharing Christmas at A Day With the Demos, and The Nester's holiday home tour:

Anatomy of a Tantrum

2009-12-11T15:01:00.000-05:00

It's important to recognize a tantrum quickly, because the sooner you can intervene, the more likely you are to be able to head it off. So, for the good of mankind, here is the basic progession to look for - First, the child will fling himself on the floor (occasionally checking first to be sure the landing will be soft, but not necessarily). Note the glance to be sure I am paying attention:

Next, the child will gasp, scream, weep, and possibly flail, as though he has completely lost the ability to control himself, and is simply overcome by the injustice of the situation:

Don't allow yourself to be taken in, however. He is not, in fact, overcome and lost to the world because of the depth of feeling your injustice has provoked. He will prove this by attempting to prevent documentation of the aforementioned ridiculous behaviour (naturally without breaking character as the most put upon child in the history of mankind. I'm dealing with a professional here.) by looking away from the camera (only after he is sure you are watching):

That's ok though. I have enough evidence to wreak my revenge, as soon as he starts dating... (insert evil chuckle here).

For the record, I try to stop the tantrums as the child is en route to the floor, in step one. Not succeeding at that, completely ignoring them is my next coping mechanism of choice. Or, occasionally, grabbing the camera. What I do NOT do, is run around in a panic, trying to fix whatever started the tantrum.

I'm still learning how to deal with these. Monkeys 1 and 2 didn't pitch fits like this. I really need to perfect my technique quickly though, because they've started indicating some interest in trying Monkey3's method.
Any advice will be appreciated, pondered, and possibly even followed. :-)