Tuesday, March 25, 2008

If I had a pony, I'd ride him in my bathtub

I was in the bathroom folding some clothes and I heard Harper in the kitchen saying, "Duh, duh, DADDY! Duh, duh DUCK!" I came in to check and she had made a 'D' out of her Ezekiel bread crust and was thinking of all of the words she knew that began with 'D'. It's not quite as impressive as the 17 month old who can read, (I still don't know how to do that thing that would link to an article about her--if you're that interested, look it up) but a good start perhaps. She's actually not that into books at this point. It's not as though she doesn't like reading together, she just rarely suggests it when she's choosing an activity. Probably because it requires sitting fairly still and that just isn't her natural inclination. We still read, mind you, just not as much as we ought to be probably.

Last night while she was taking her bath she said, "I'm going to get in my bathtub and ride down the highway to go see Grandmother Pate. And the ponies." My parents, regrettably, do not own any ponies, so I'm not sure which ponies she was referring to. Maybe the one she got to ride at the rodeo. Which did, she noted at the time, require driving in the general direction that we drive when we go visit my parents. Yesterday while she was sort of playing with Hudson, she said, almost under her breath, "I don't think I WILL share my cars with Hudson. (she cut her eyes in my direction to see if I had heard this bold statement) I'm not FEELING very generous." I waited to see if her actions would give credence to her disinclination and, sadly, they did.

Hudson is walking, albeit very cautiously. He waits until he's perfectly balanced then takes these small, deliberate steps towards a reasonable, and usually padded, goal. The ottoman is a favorite destination. Harper, who started walking when she was 10 months, would fling herself recklessly in the direction she wanted to go and, on an hourly basis, would collide dramatically with something rough or sharp-cornered.

That's it. You can make your own spiritual analogies today.

Monday, March 17, 2008

Have it your way

About a month ago Harper expressed, for the first time, a clothing preference. I had gotten a shirt out of the closet and was kneeling down to pull it over her head and she said, " I don't WANT to wear that one." Well, why not? I asked. "It has poo-poo on it," she said, with apprehension. This is not a completely unrealistic possibility around here. But I knew I had just washed this shirt. What she meant was that she did not like it because it was brown. I did, out of respect, do a cursory examination, found it excrement-free and she then put it on. I'm actually fine if she decides she wants to have more input when it comes to what she wears but it hasn't come up again. I've heard from several moms more experienced than I that this is one of those areas that it's wise to give some latitude. We'll set parameters of cost and modesty if need be, but the rest is up to her when she decides she cares.

Hm, you're likely saying to yourself, Patti usually gives these little anecdotes because she wants to Present Some Sort of Important Idea. The mystery is gone, I've been made. Here's the rub. We were visiting my mother-in-law a few weeks ago and, over Scrabble, she tells us that her church, a big one in Dallas, had, at the end of the year, found itself with $100,000 beyond its normal budget. That's great! said the husband and I, more money for the widows and orphans. Let's see, double word score on 'helix'. She furrows her brow and says, "Well, but we already have a large part of our budget for that." And we, incredulous, said something like, "And it was enough to feed ALL of the widows and orphans in the entire WORLD? What will true religion DO now that the job is done??" So it turns out that they used the $100,000 extra to buy a new air conditioner and add on to the children's wing. And of course we aren't so unreasonable to suggest that sweating children packed in tight is a good idea in Texas. But maybe you see our point, even if we need to be much more gracious in our presentation. I don't want to find fault when I gaze at the Church. I really, really don't. I want us to be all shiny. Maybe from sweat because the air conditioner doesn't work as well as it should, I don't know. But here's how the tables turn on me. The church we've been going to for a few months now is clearly not about the building. And even in January it tends to get kind of sweaty because they likely have never spent any money on air conditioning. And there hasn't been a Sunday yet that we haven't been reminded of people who lack and what this church is doing right now, with most of its resources (which aren't much) to do something to aid the suffering and thirsty literally outside the door AND on other continents. And yet. It is a struggle for me to worship there because the music is so loud. That's right. It is so loud that I really needed an expletive in front of loud so that you'll see how loud it is. We want Harper and Hudson to worship with us but I literally fear for their auditory health. Yesterday I took Hudson and walked all around, trying to find a place that might muffle things. I ended up outside. Which defeats the purpose of corporate worship. When I told Harper we were going to church she said, "Will you hold me and cover my ears?" And this kid really loves music. So I'm trying to decide if this is my brown shirt. I was actually trying to think of a legitimate reason why the music might NEED to be loud and then your brain sort of gets into this quagmire of What Is Worship Anyway? and clearly God doesn't need the amplification because he can hear us just fine even when we aren't speaking. So is it deafening to be (my pet word lately) Relevant? So that the Kids will think it's cool and forget it's church? I think this is the kind of stuff that nudges people towards the Catholic and Orthodox churches. It's like going to a franchise. You go into the Subway restaurant in Port Neches or Houston or even Vienna and you know what you're going to get. There's someone making sure the employees are putting the bread in the little oven each morning and not deciding that, you know, I don't really FEEL like baking up the Subway bread today, how about I hop across the street to the Stop-n-Go and pick up a couple of loaves of Wonder Bread. And there are Protestant churches who are pretty smug about this as well. People clump together and label themselves because it really is efficient. I ran into an old high school acquaintance at a wedding a few months back who gave an audible sigh of relief when I told him the Presbyterian church we were going to then was a PCA church. It's like there are suddenly lots of conversations that don't need to happen because we can just pat ourselves on the back and Agree on The Creeds and be thankful that we have won the Election, as it were. But what if that IS right to ensure that the theology doesn't wobble off somewhere dangerous and suddenly it isn't just about music preferences but it really is essential to the integrity of the gospel? What if there really IS poo-poo on the shirt? Gee whiz, kids. Is anyone even still reading this??

Wednesday, March 12, 2008

Giddy-up

This is Harper and her friend Izzy in the hats their grandmothers purchased for them at the Houston Livestock Show. I should've cropped out the cow bottom but that's just too hard. You'll notice that Izzy's cowboy hat has a tiara on it. Izzy is much more inclined towards princesses and sparkly things, but she doesn't seem to mind when Harper wants to talk about cars. The girls (and Hudson) probably weren't quite as excited about all of the animals as the moms and grandmothers were, but I think it was a pretty good time. There's not much cuter than a day old lamb or a litter of brand new piglets.
Hudson walked across the kitchen on Monday without holding on to anything. It didn't end quite as well as he expected. The box that was his goal slid from his grasp and he did some variation of a half-gainer and landed on his back with an impressive thud. He seems to have decided walking is best done with assistance. Here he is pushing a flashlight around in the stroller.

Thursday, March 6, 2008

my kid could draw that, part 2

I thought this face had an interesting Picasso-esque (earlier I had Van Gogh--I meant Picasso. My husband reminded me) symmetry. We are still sickly around here. It seems like we've had fevers and stuffy noses and coughing to the point of asphyxiation for around a month now. We ventured out rather tentatively this morning to the Museum of Fine Arts because it's free on Thursdays. We've only been a couple of times and the last time there was an exhibition of dog paintings that Harper enjoyed as much as a toddler can enjoy something that she can't touch or jump on. She remembered the dogs and was rather dismayed to find them absent today. She was pretty cranky and not really in the mood to answer my questions. My favorite reply was, "She's wearing a red tam-o-shanter," when I asked what she noticed about this Van Dongen painting:

Thank you Beatrix Potter. We ended with the modern art because it seemed to make Harper even crankier. "It doesn't look like ANYTHING!" she said, rather petulantly when I asked what she saw in the Rothko.
My computer is so slow that I am reading The Great Gatsby while I write this. Every few minutes there is a lull of inactivity accompanied by a whirring sound.
There's a fascinating discussion about the quiverfull movement going on over at Amy's Humble Musings if you are interested. There was a link to a sermon by a Seattle pastor named Mark Driscoll. He is smart but pretty abrasive. I woke up in the middle of the night last night and was thinking about the black robe that the pastor at the church we went to wears when he teaches and the faded t-shirt that the pastor at the church where we've been going lately wears when he teaches. I think there's something profound to say about it, but I am not sure what it is yet. I'm pretty sure it's emblematic. Relevance.
I want to write a short story about a person who goes to the gift shop to buy postcards and maybe a t-shirt and then leaves without actually going into the museum. Relics without experience, get it?