Bikers and ballerinas

Sunday was a big day at our house. First, the daddy decided to take Hudson's training wheels off of his bike. He said it took about 15 seconds for this to happen: There's still a little starting and stopping practice that needs to happen before we can take group rides, but he was pretty pleased with himself.

Next, Grandmother Pate arrived to take the big girls to the Houston Ballet's production of "The Nutcracker." Harper's joy was made complete because she got to sit with her friend June: I always get a little teary during "The Waltz of the Flowers"--does this happen to anyone else? The music is just so lovely and the dancers are so gifted, I get a touch overwhelmed with the beauty. I just watched a documentary titled "The Ballerina" that I got at the library. It's about 5 different dancers with the Kirov ballet and I thought it was fascinating.

Maybe you'll notice I got a haircut. I don't care for it, but I'm trying not to dwell. I went to a local school that trains hair stylists. I'd been once before and had liked the cut (and the price) but had conveniently forgotten that student stylists take conscientious to a new level. It took THREE hours. Almost 2 hours for the cut (I think it's possibly she cut each single hair individually), and then another hour for her to blow dry and straighten it. About 2 hours in, I realized something. I probably just need to let my hair be what it wants to be. If it takes THREE hours to thin it and dry it straight and subdue it with a flat iron, that is just patently ridiculous. So, I think I need to surrender and just let it be the frizzly, enormous mop that it seems to be inclined towards. I saw the lovely Emmylou Harris on a PBS thing the other night and she has a glorious mane of silver, unruly locks, and it was inspirational. Maybe I'll learn to sing bluegrass and play the guitar too. Once my hair is loosed, who knows what talents will present themselves.

the son of a drummer man

Maybe you'll remember that Hudson has some drums. Now he has TWO sets of drums because the husband thought he'd outgrown the other set. I will confess, if it's not untoward to do so, that he is impressive for a four year old drummer. The husband shows him complicated rudiments and he replicates them almost perfectly on the very first try. It's nifty. But so, so noisy. Especially on days like today, when it's rainy and we've stayed at home and there is not one single clean surface in my entire house. Exhibit A:

Exhibit B:

My desk is An Abomination, I tell you.

Exhibit C:


Although drumming is probably a really appropriate soundtrack to chaos, it doesn't really help me to find the joy in it all, if you know what I mean. In fact, today was definitely one of those days my friend Mrs. S told me literature-based home schooling guru Carol Joyce Seid calls "yellow school bus days"--those days as a home schooling mom when the thought of waving fondly as the yellow school bus carries your kids away sounds pretty fantastic. But let's not belabor that, because it's not that useful. Just so everyone realizes that it happens every so often around here.

We just had a pomegranate for a snack. I bought it at Whole Foods a couple of weeks ago and it had been languishing in the fruit drawer because I didn't know exactly how to eat a pomegranate. These are times when I am thankful for the internet. (Would Ma Ingalls have been glad to be able to google "how to eat a pomegranate"? I like to think so. Of course, she would never have had a pomegranate to begin with, though they did get that one orange at Christmas that year.) Everyone liked the pomegranate, but I did stain my shirt. Helena stained her entire person, and spit out the crunchy bits:

Hudson and Helena have started really playing together in the past couple of weeks, which makes me so happy. Their favorite thing to do is put the couch cushions on the floor and jump on them. The zippers on the couch cushions are beginning to split, but I've decided not to care. They also enjoy chasing each other. And drawing pictures on the Magnadoodle.

Harper wrote a book today titled The Six Circle Brothers. The six circle brothers are, as you might suspect, circles. With smiling faces and appendages, and they have many adventures. My favorite is when they go to the park with their friends the square brothers and the rectangle twins. I was relieved the circle brothers were not shape-ists.

We finally decorated the Christmas tree today. We only have about 20 ornaments, so it didn't take long. Hudson calls them "Christmas Ordinance" which makes it sound very official. He also calls Hershey kisses "horseshoe kisses." I also meant to wrap all of the presents today, but I only wrapped two. Since I had helpers. I had to clench my teeth while that was happening , by the way.

Smuggle puppy like jazz

Helena likes several of Sandra Boynton's board books, but her favorite is probably Snuggle Puppy, or SMuggle Puppy if you speak Helenese, which you should because it is a super cute language. I don't care for Snuggle Puppy because it is supposed to be sung and there is no suggested melody for the song, which I have mentioned on more than one occasion results in frustration for me. Also, Harper and Hudson wanted Bread and Jam for Frances AND A Baby Sister for Frances the other night, and, as much as I love that sassy Frances, she is VERY wont to break into song as well. The kids don't seem to mind my melodic improvisation, but I mind. It's why I've never been very good at listening to jazz. It just seems so scattered and rambling, even though I know it isn't. Don't get mad at me. In college I was in a couple of different organizations that brought all kinds of concerts to campus, and one of the Marsalis brothers (Wynton, I think?)came with his trumpet one time. I knew he was playing with great skill and artistry, but I felt like there were ants crawling on me with wanting him to FINISH THE SONG ALREADY. I even spent a week at L'Abri and jazz was practically like the worship music there because it's Switzerland and everyone is so cool and jazzy and cool, but I just couldn't make myself like it.

These two guys at church did a very cool rendering of "Lo How a Rose E'er Blooming" this morning. It's a German carol. The music at our church is often astonishingly good. Which is good for my soul. Unlike jazz. Which makes my soul feel untethered and adrift. Blue like jazz?

Helena has discovered that she can make Harper and Hudson laugh, which is great. What is not great is that she has discovered that the way that she can make Harper and Hudson laugh is by saying "poo-poo and tee-tee" at inappropriate moments (which, frankly, encompasses ALL moments as far as I am concerned). Abraham Piper posted a funny thing on his blog a couple of weeks ago. He decided to make his boys ask, "Is now a good time for scatological humor?" every time they wanted to make poo-poo tee-tee jokes. Maybe I'll work on that with her this week.

The kids looked pretty cute for church this morning which naturally makes the camera urge irresistible. So we got home and I ran in for the camera, only while I was leaning over to put Helena where I wanted her, the camera, which was around my neck, swung forward and smacked her in the face. Which made her cry. Loudly, which made Harper cranky. Plus the sun was awkward. Behold!

Week in review: Snickerdoodles to Sea Dragons

This has been a highly atypical week for us. Fun, but a trifle overwhelming. My body, as per usual, has responded by succumbing to some sort of throat illness. Which explains why the kids are currently watching a movie, even though I had decided that only Mondays were going to be movie day so I could clean the toilets in peace. The new rule is Only on Mondays or Also on Fridays if Mommy Is Not Feeling Well AND You Have Recited All of Your Memory Work, Even the 15's and the Timeline Up to Fall of Constantinople to Mohammed II.

We had a birthday party (Helena's first, for her friend Lily) on Saturday morning. Then on Sunday afternoon we went to the Lanier Law Firm Christmas party. It was quite a shindig. Mr. Lanier has HIS OWN TRAIN, complete with two train depots right there in his front yard (which happens to be around 22 acres). He also has swans, llamas, a kangaroo, some sheep, and some parrots. Also his own theological library, a full-sized reproduction Byzantine chapel (where we watched a little of the live-streamed Rascal Flatts concert because the actual concert tent was, we were told, a little loud. And you know, nothing goes together like the hush of a reproduction Byzantine chapel and the Rascal Flatts) Plus enough space for a full carnival. The kids had a great time on the rides and I enjoyed the people watching, even though it was a cold and rainy day.

On Monday, I made a chore checklist for myself:
1. wash sheets (check!)
2. wash dog (check!) (these two chores are in tandem because of the aforementioned dog IN my sheets)
3. wash bathroom rugs (check!)
4. vacuum (partial check)
5. clean spots on carpet (partial check)
6. bathroom sinks (just one)
7. toilets (just one)
8. pick up entire riding room to make space for Christmas tree (nope)
9. bake cookies (check)
10. Target? (check)

The kids watched "Frosty the Snowman" while I got most of it done. The (slightly disturbing) one with the robotic clay characters. The cookies were for my friend Merry's annual Christmas cookie exchange, which I attended Monday night. I took molasses crinkles and came home with a glorious array of treats, most of which I have single-handedly consumed in the last 4 days. Which probably explains why my new black pants, which fit perfectly when I bought them on Saturday, were a touch snug when I put them on last night. The husband would suggest it might also explain the throat illness. There is all of this annoying scientific evidence that sugar suppresses the immune system.

We stayed home on Tuesday. I think. It's blurry.

Wednesday morning, Grandmother Pate came to join us in Galveston for a home school day at Moody Gardens. Getting to do things like this is definitely one of the benefits of living in a big city in which there are thousands of homeschooling families. We spent all of our time in the expansive aquarium (it was a really cold day) and the kids had a fantastic day learning more about sea turtles (Hudson's favorite), penguins (Helena's favorite), sharks, stingrays (Harper's favorite, of course) and sea dragons (my favorite). I was too busy making sure I didn't lose any of the kids in the tunnels to take a decent picture, but here are a few:
The kids really liked these touch tanks full of sea stars and urchins and hermit crabs.

I would have liked to sit and watch the penguins for several hours. Alas, my little humans made this untenable. Though having Grandmother Pate helped tremendously with the herding.
Harper had several touching moments with the baby freshwater stingrays, but I didn't get a picture because the camera was buried underneath the coats and the lunch bag in the stroller and if I had tried to dig it out the entire stroller would have tipped over and dumped everything out, and also, she would inevitably have moved on to something else by then. Helena is really getting too old for the stroller, but I don't know what I'll do without a wheeled vehicle to carry all of our stuff. A pack mule perhaps?

Wednesday night, Grandmother Pate babysat so I could go to our women's Christmas dinner at church. My friend Laura provided a beautifully decorated table, the food was delicious, the conversation with friends delightful, and the speaker inspiring.

Yesterday evening we had the husband's work Open House. I realized when we got there that only one other family had brought their kids, but it turned out okay. There was a girl playing the harp in the chapel. The kids sat listening for a very long time, which surprised me. I almost dozed off, which did not surprise me.

So, today we recuperate.

Week in review: Botany,Butterflies, and Bayou Bend

Yesterday morning, I was going to try to sit down and blog, then I realized that I have three children. So I decided just to leave the page open and sit down at random free moments and jot down the events of the day. This was the result, with some necessary commentary in parentheses:

**Well, Sasha just celebrated the first day of Advent by pooping on the Wandering Jew. (My brother's mother-in-law told me the name of this plant. She is one of those people who Knows Things. Anyway, I supposed that there might be a slightly more PC name. There are several: Purple Heart, Purple Queen, and Tradescantia pallida. Its pretty little purple flowers are, according to Wiki, sterile, which I don't entirely understand, but it makes me a little melancholy for the Purple Queen. I should also note that every morning I follow Sasha outside to watch her do her business so that I can have a visual on her piles, because they are impossible to spot otherwise. And then small children step in them. Which makes me think many bad words in my head. Incidentally, our Wandering Jew is completely ignored, unless you count the fact that it is covered with fresh-smelling dryer lint on a daily basis because it grows under the vent. In spite of the neglect, it has thrived. In fact, it seems to be even more abundant than before the drought began. Interesting.)

**The end of the Old Testament. The wait. (Using the Jesus Storybook Bible for Advent.)

**Helena is weeping, as far as I can decipher, because her play-doh is now in two pieces and she would like it to be just one. "How can I help you?" I ask, as calmly as I can muster. (She is going through some Moody Blues lately. She wept when her piece of pumpkin pie broke apart last night. She wept at the zoo on Wednesday when I wouldn't give her an almond. Then she wept when she had a mouthful of chewed up almond that she didn't want to swallow. Then she screamed when I suggested maybe she spit it out into a wipe. I remembered this week that when Harper was Helena's age, Hudson was a newly walking 14 month old, AND I had just discovered I was pregnant with Helena. I can't remember that phase at ALL. Birth order makes for vastly different parenting and perspective.)

**I bought a pair of Dearfoam slippers at Costco this weekend. Which, I'm fairly certain, signals the Beginning of the End.

**Helena is wailing, "I want to have a big big SMACK."(or a big big sNack.)

**There should be a patch for television withdrawal.(we got some free movies on cable and the husband recorded "Voyage of the Dawn Treader" and decided to watch it with the big kids since they have been reading it. They loved it, but it seems to have triggered an obsession for more, more, more. We have several friends who've done away with t.v. entirely with their kids, and I really think that's the way to go.)

As for the rest of our week, it has been pretty busy. We went to the Natural Science Museum with the Whiles on Tuesday. The butterflies were more plentiful than I think I've ever seen them. Harper's favorite is the Blue "Mortho." Helena got really excited at the roach habitat, which disgusted me greatly. On Wednesday we went to the zoo with the Swanks. The siamangs were very noisy. Harper took this picture of a mandrill: The Swank kids recited a poem titled "The Vulture" while we stood next to an actual vulture, which was adorable. (The recitation, NOT the vulture.It's disturbing.) Then yesterday, Bayou Bend had another home school day, so we went to go see the Ima Hogg manse in all its Christmas glory (I feel like there's a joke about pearls and swine in there somewhere, but I shall refrain.) There was a 45 minute lecture on the history of Christmas that was basically one of the sweet, elderly docents chatting quietly about how she liked making Christmas decorations from the different eras in history that are represented by the antiques in the house. You can imagine that the children found this to be riveting. Then we made some crafts (the highlight of this was the moment when a gust of wind blew our pieces of 3-D construction paper Christmas trees off the table at the very instant Helena decided to hurl a handful of gravel at the table of crafting children. Terrific parenting moment, all around), played in the gardens, and toured the house. Helena liked this little statue. She realized that she could "push her" and not get scolded. So, she did. Repeatedly.:
She was pleased to realize that statues do not push back or tattle. She did give the statue a nice hug when all the aggression had subsided. Note to self: remember to tell her that not all statues are for pushing before our next trip to the Museum of Fine Arts.

That's about it. We went to Hobby Lobby for some crafting supplies today. (il-advised) The sweet elderly man behind us in line complimented the kids and also schooled me in the Ancient Art of Pyrography. It seemed a rather risky hobby for someone dependent on oxygen. He said, at one point, "This line is INTERMINABLE," which endeared him to me even more.

Also, the kids were laughing uproariously while repeating, "ULRICH ZWINGLI AND THE ANABAPTISTS!" in silly voices just now during lunch. That, and the fact that Hudson has lately been saying "FUIT!" when he is confounded, are two of the reasons I like our memory work so much.

Whew. That is plenty.

Attachment Parenting: Canine Edition

Maybe you'll remember that we acquired our dog largely against our (actually, just my) will. Poor little Sasha had either run away from home or been abandoned when she showed up on our doorstep that fateful, cold morning in February. and frankly, she gets away with more than she should because of her status as a Recovering Abandoned Puppy Who Suffered In the Cold For WHO KNOWS HOW LONG.

Exhibit A:

We were getting ready to go and spend a couple of days with the Grandparents Pate for Thanksgiving, and, as is her usual reaction when the suitcases appear, Sasha begin to quiver and attempt to get directly under my feet in a way that was incredibly annoying. The husband observed her for a minute, then asked where the Baby Bjorn was. I didn't exactly know, but I did happen to know exactly where this sling was. Sasha took right to the dog-wearing and immediately stopped the quivering.

The first night Sasha stayed with us, she slept outside in a cardboard box. In fact, she slept out there for several nights. Which I do feel slightly guilty about in hindsight. It WAS pretty cold. But you know, I think we have more than made up for that possible cruelty. Guess where she slept last night? We had still not turned on our heater and it was around 33 degrees outside, and 50 degrees in our room. Sasha was curled up in the crook of my knees, UNDER the sheet, skin-to-fur, the entire night. Gross. Sort of sweet, but GROSS. If you had told me two years ago that I would be letting a small shedding animal sleep under the covers with me I would have laughed at you in a really rude way.

So, we have dog-wearing and co-sleeping. Oh, how the mighty have fallen. At least I'm not dressing her up and putting her in a stroller though. RIGHT???

One is silver, and the other gold

Just a quick post to commemorate a sweet reunion that transpired today. Our beloved B's and K's returned for a holiday date at the park, and it was just like old times. Since I told her a week ago (unadvisable) that we'd be seeing Izzy and Abby, Helena has awakened each morning with "We see Izzy and Abby and Aiken Dum today?" and today I could finally tell her YES! Today!

This is my very special friend Miss A. She and I are a mutual admiration society.

Moms and kids alike picked up where we last left off and it was golden all around. Isn't there so much for which to be thankful?

Mind the crack.

I interrupt this series detailing our family weirdness to instead detail a few funny things about the Hudson boy that I don't want to forget.

Night before last, we were getting ready for our evening stories. We always congregate in the same configuration: Harper wedged in at the end, just under the lamp, then I am in the middle, then Hudson is curled into me on the other side. (Helena is already in bed at this point. She gets her own story time during which she can comment and point and make animal noises and turn pages backwards if she needs to, all without the protestations of the other two to JUST GET ON WITH IT PLEASE.) Well, Hudson had gotten to the couch first and he and I had snuggled into the opposite corner to look at a book while we waited for Harper to finish brushing her teeth. She came in, surveyed the set-up, and said, "We need to get in our regular place. I do NOT want to sit on the crack." (the crack being the gaping space between the two rather saggy seat cushions) I conceded that we probably did need to move so that I could be closer to the lamp, then I added, "And I don't think Hudson minds the crack--do you buddy?" The reason I assumed this is because we have been sitting together like this for approximately 2 1/2 years now and he has never, not once, complained about the crack. Well. Hudson said, in a rather plaintive tone, "But I DO! I DO mind the crack!! I mind it all the time!!" I told him he needs to speak up regarding such future injustices. And so now we squeeze together very tightly in order to fit on the one cushion. It makes me remember when Hudson was a baby, the way he still melds himself so tightly to my side. He was that kind of baby. So pleasant to hold and snuggle with. He would have been content to be sewn onto me at the start of each day. I forget that when I see how independent he is now.

Saturday we were taking a little drive after going to Cavender's for some long-awaited real cowboy boots for the big kids:
Are my kids the only ones who, when I try to take a picture of them, insist on incorporating stuffed animals and other large toys that almost completely obscure the actual kid who is supposedly the subject of the photo? Anyway, so we got the boots and were on the way home and Hudson says, "I'm going to start doing 'one' like this," and I turn around and he is, with some concentration, isolating his middle finger and holding it in the air. It's one of those times as a parent that you really shouldn't laugh. But I couldn't help it. Then, of course, they all want to know why it's SOO funny to use your tall man to do number one. The husband took over while I stopped with the spasmodic laughing. I did tell him that some cultures use their thumb to denote 'one,' but that no culture that I knew of used their middle finger for that purpose. "Well. I think I am still going to," he decided. We did not go into the other use, so, should you see Hudson waving his middle finger about, please do not take offense.

One last little story. Hudson is always the first kid to wake up, usually between 6:45 and 7. He then plays in his room for a good, long while before he needs anything from us. One morning I could hear his cars and trucks all talking and having a good time. Then one of the cars started behaving in a rather boorish fashion, so I think an army man stepped in and asked him to behave himself. Which the car disregarded and said, "Oh yeah? Well I'm going to BEAT UP GOD!" It was quiet for a moment while the other vehicles and the army man digested this audacious statement. Then the army man said, "You can't beat up God. He doesn't have a body!" and the truck said, "Oh, well, okay!" and there was again harmony. Thank you, catechism cd, for your melodic reminder that "God is a spirit, and He doesn't have a body like man."

It's true. My kids have never eaten at Chick-fil-A.

Or McDonald's. Or Burger King. Or Subway. Or Chuck E. Cheese.

Nope, not even once.

I remember seeing a headline on the cover of a tabloid while I waited in line at the grocery store a couple of years ago and it said something like, "No television, McDonald's, or preschool for Suri!! Will Tom and Katie ever let her be a normal child??" and I realized something I would never have thought possible: I might actually have something in common with Tom Cruise and Katie Holmes.

It also made me realize that the term "normal child" is extremely subjective.

I suppose our main reason for not eating fast food (it has nothing to do with L. Ron Hubbard) is because it is also true that my kids don't eat meat. Or eggs. Or most dairy. It's pretty tricky to find something to eat at a fast food restaurant that doesn't contain meat or eggs or dairy. I suppose we could go and get french fries. But, that wouldn't really pass the "is this the best thing?" test I mentioned in the last post.

We finally started eating at restaurants when Harper was around 4 1/2. I think we went to Freebirds first. The kids eat black beans, rice, vegetables, and tortillas at Mexican restaurants. We usually end up eating out about once a week now, usually Mexican food. We'll go to P.F. Chang's on occasion (because I don't actually like Mexican food, which I think I've mentioned) and the kids eat vegetable dumplings and rice and a little tofu and steamed vegetables.

I wish I could say my kids are super enthusiastic about healthy food. They really aren't. They grumble about broccoli. They are right this moment grumbling about the lentils I'm making for dinner tonight. They love when the husband works late and I make macaroni and cheese from a box (organic--but still, FROM a BOX) because I'm too tired to make anything else. One of my ongoing goals is to be more creative with spices and recipes in order to make what we DO eat seem more appealing and delicious. However, I pretty much loathe anything that has to do with food preparation (because I'm historically really BAD at cooking and also I'm afraid of most kitchen utensils. Especially knives. And the grater makes my teeth hurt just thinking about it. I'm so, so afraid of grating some part of myself) so that's a major hurdle. The real goal is to include the kids more in all aspects of their meal preparation. Fun for them, but SO much work for me. Like most things that are worthwhile at this age.

I really hope that when they have more freedom to make their own choices about what to eat, they don't eat every meal at McDonald's. But, they might. And they might blame it on the deprivation they experienced in childhood. Or maybe there is something to the fact that we are shaping their tastes for something better, and maybe the junk will never hold much appeal. I hope so. I'll make sure to post a photo of our Thanksgiving tofurky.

It's true. We don't have Barbies.

I'm thinking I might do a little series detailing all the weird stuff we do (or don't do, as the case may be) here at our house. Of course, my history with writing a series of any kind is rather disappointing. But maybe this one will interest me enough to keep it up.

So, Barbie dolls. I had an interesting conversation with a friend whose daughters love Barbies. Her older daughter asked me a few months ago why I won't let Harper have Barbies. I told her, honestly, that we don't have a specific prohibition against Barbies, but that we actually don't have any Barbies because Harper has never asked for one. If she or Helena ever DO ask, I'll probably direct them to dolls that look more like human children. Like my dolls from childhood, Mandy and Jenny, who Helena loves, and Harper likes on occasion:
As you can see, their wild hair is also something my kids can directly relate to. Incidentally, we received an American Girl doll catalog in the mail a few weeks ago and all three kids spent an inordinate amount of time studying it and finding many things they would very much like to have. Harper especially liked the American Girl that had her own horse (sold separately) and the American Girl that had a pet dog (sold separately). I think the American Girl dolls are adorable, but I probably can't ever, in good conscience, BUY one because they are approximately ONE MILLION DOLLARS apiece, as are their animal companions. Plus, it might hurt Mandy and Jenny's feelings.

So, I don't know that I believe all the hype about Barbie giving young girls an unhealthy attitude about their own bodies. I played with Barbies and I don't remember ever thinking I was supposed to look like them. Though my friend Carrie and I did alter, shall we say, some of her Barbies one time (Carrie--do you remember this??) to make them less buxom. Though I think that might have been more about enjoying the act of destruction and less a sign of some sort of rebellion against a body ideal we could never hope to personally attain. But who knows?

Here is what I know. My philosophy with toys is pretty much my general philosophy regarding the whole of life. I ask myself, "Is this the best thing for my family?" I guess if I had to dissect the Barbie thing, I would prefer my kids have toys that encourage imaginative play that is child-like, not adult-like (though Hudson does get to play with toy guns and knives--this is a possible contradiction. I'll let the husband defend that one. I'm sure he'd be more than happy to explain his reasons). It's why we don't read certain books yet. It's why we don't watch most television shows or movies. I just want them to be able to be little kids for a good, long while. I want to be able to inculcate a right standard of beauty that isn't predicated on a fancy ballgown or golden hair cascading down to a teeny tiny waist. Which is, I realize, easy to say when I happen to have daughters who have never begged, much less asked for, a Barbie. It's always easy to be steadfast when you haven't been tested.

We also have some things I think are probably neutral (but others might disagree). If they really want a toy that may not qualify as "best" (Squinkies, anyone? "Cars" characters that are 4 times as much as Matchbox cars) I'll let them have it (especially if they are spending their own money) as long as my only reasons are things like, "Well, I think those are silly and cheaply made of possibly toxic materials.." or, "You realize you are responding exactly as those evil marketing geniuses at Disney/Pixar have programmed you to respond by insisting that you MUST have the slightly altered Lightning McQueen that appears in 'Cars 2'??" Maybe those are moral issues too, and I should probably think more deeply about them. And perhaps I will.

Did Jesus have germs?

This was our topic of conversation over lunch today. I let them debate amongst themselves because I am sick (again--but I think it's been a couple of months, which is great) and it hurts to talk (and breathe and cough and also to stand up and sit down because my head feels like it really is going to explode every time there is an altitude shift. I mumbled that my head did feel like it might actually explode and Hudson said, "REALLY Mommy?" with grave concern in his voice, so I had to cut back on the melodrama). Anyway, it has been decided that Jesus probably had germs, but God decidedly does not. God is also the only one who can see individual atoms, according to Harper. I don't think there is any heresy in that logic. I am certain that if Jesus had germs, he did not complain about his head imminently exploding from the sinus pressure while young children were listening.

Well, we had a swell time with the Grandparents Pate. We went to the homecoming game at my high school. The drill team I was in for two years was having a 60-year reunion, and though it was poorly attended by anyone from my decade, I got to spend some delightful time with a few dear friends, and the husband and kids got a real bang out of seeing me and Mrs. Young perform the special Indian Fight Song Dance that the Indianette officers do down on the track during the third quarter. Would you like a look at Lieutenant Patti? Here she is:
Sometimes Batman calls upon her special powers of chanting "Scalp 'em, Indians! Scalp 'em!" while pretending to draw an invisible arrow from her invisible quiver:

I was really hoping the kids wouldn't ask about the whole Scalp 'em! thing because the explanation is pretty macabre, and also a touch racist. They did not.

You might be wondering where you can buy your very own purple and white Indian headdress emblazoned with your name in sparkling sequins. The heartbreaking truth is this--such unique splendor is not for sale. I made it with my own two hands the summer between my junior and senior years of high school. Here's how you do it: get a black felt skull cap, use copious amounts of hot glue, feathers, sequins, white rabbit fur, and some fishing line, and VOILA. You should try it. I'm sure there is a tutorial somewhere on Pinterest.

We went to a birthday party for my friend Carol yesterday afternoon, and an older gentleman, (who happens to be their family doctor) came over and asked if Hudson belonged to me. He then proceeded to tell me that Hudson reminded him of a young Thomas Jefferson. He'd been watching Hudson dance and stomp (there was square dancing) and interact with other kids, and his rosy-cheeked, curly haired musical exuberance coincided with what he and his wife had discovered about Thomas Jefferson as they read and researched during a road trip to Monticello. Future statesman?

That's probably more Teddy Roosevelt than Thomas Jefferson.

That will be all for today because I keep having spasmodic coughing attacks that make it feel like my alveoli have actually burst into flames. Blasted germs.

Animal observation

I had a lovely dinner with the Bible study girls at Merry's house last Thursday. A miracle was announced. Then, as I'm sure happened after many a miraculous announcement in the days of the early church, a possum appeared in Merry's driveway. Merry, it should be noted, had been getting up at various intervals during dinner to pound on the walls (looking a more than a little Crazed About the Eyes). There were Mysterious Scurryings coming from the attic. The Mysterious Scurryings had momentarily abated, so Merry opened her back door and saw a box on the driveway. A box that MOVED. And had a long pink tail. Brenda, the intrepid one amongst us, casually strolled outside and put a cinder block on top of the box while we all contemplated scenarios that would ensure Merry did not have a boxed possum behind her car when she needed to leave for work the next morning. I shared all of my recently acquired possum knowledge. Lori called her husband Matt, who, in addition to having a real job is also an aspiring Cattle Baron AND amateur animal trapper. Brenda, yet again, decided to take matters into her own hands. Merry closed the crack where Mr. Possum had been gaining entry to her attic, then Brenda marched out (in her high heels) and calmly took off the cinder block AND the box, and our marsupial interloper dashed into the next door neighbors' backyard. He was LARGE. Or pregnant. Hopefully, just large. Though pregnant would dovetail nicely with the previously mentioned miraculous announcement. (Dear Mother, It is not me. I have promised you that, should I be pregnant, you will not find out through a blog post. Love, Patti.)

We went to the Zoo Boo yesterday. The kids wore costumes because I thought it might make up for the missed party. Though we got there and realized that the festivities only happen on the weekends. I just can't get it right. Ah, well. They had fun anyway. The battery was out in the new camera, so this was the best I could do:
We got to watch the elephants getting their baths, then were delighted to watch baby Baylor the elephant go directly from his bath into the swimming pond in the new elephant habitat. Baby Baylor pooped right in the water, which, naturally, pleased the kids very much. He also practiced his trumpeting, which was pretty adorable.

Harper got the idea (from one of the Magic Treehouse books) to have a little notebook in which she jots down Animal Observations. Here are some from the zoo trip:

1. Chinmpansee Behavior: eats flies
2. ElephAnt Behavior: Aftr Bath SWiMs (and) (poops) (and) (trumpets)
3. Baby Shark Behavior: Swims at TOP of WATER
4. TurTLE Behavior: Swims Around Tank
5. Eels ArE COOL i've seen THiM AT The Zoo
6. Tomorrow i'm Going To GANDMOTHer
7. I'm Bringing 100 Thins

Those last two were more like journal entries. She did ask for help with some of the spelling, which explains why it's a trifle more decipherable than her independent attempts.

I will be taking a brief blog hiatus while we spend a few days with the grandparents. We've been packing all day and as soon as Sasha sees the suitcases come out, she begins to PANIC. She is either following me around right at my heels (I almost stepped on her numerous times today) OR she is curled up with her entire body touching the suitcase, one eye left open, as she warily surveys the activity. The kids are incredibly excited, as always, and are packing their own small bags with a regrettable lack of forethought. I see, for example, that Hudson has filled his entire bag with his football helmet. No football, however. Harper has, no doubt, chosen one THOUSAND small items which will inevitably end up strewn everywhere, and there will be great turmoil trying to find it all when it's time to come home. By the way, if you are a burglar who just happens to enjoy this blog, there are three very good reasons you should NOT see this as a golden opportunity:
1. The husband will be here.
2. The husband is an extensive Collector of Firearms (22, 45, 357--those numbers mean anything to you??)
and
3. Our electronics (and other belongings, now that I think about it) will likely be a huge disappointment to you. Unless you want a cheap t.v. from Sears.

Week in review: Farm fun and consolation pumpkins

Well, I have eaten five doughnuts today. And not small ones. Big, frosted, sprinkled Shipley's doughnuts. About once a quarter, I will get a doughnut craving, and the husband will go out and get a dozen and he will eat two, maybe three, and I will eat the rest over the course of a couple of days. I'm not proud of it, but there it is. Because my brain is sluggish from all of the refined sugar and lard, there will be bullet points yet again.

**We had the week off from school this week. Harper read her first Magic Tree House book. The one about the Olympics in ancient Greece. She is a fan. She also would like a tree house.

**We had a mosquito infestation this week. (the rain that so blessed our drought-devastated area also seems to have awakened an entire summer's worth of mosquitoes, who, in their dormancy seem to have been Plotting Havoc upon us all). The kids, after having only a few bites all summer long, now look as though they have a pox.

**We went to Dewberry Farm this week.

**Harper has been referring to Hudson as "Huffin" this week. I think it started out as an aspersion (BABY Huffin, she would say) it now seems to be a term of endearment.

**A sweet friend who teaches with the husband invited us to a pre-Halloween costume party. The husband, who generally eschews most aspects of Halloween, had decided that we would get dressed up and go. So, we did!!

**Except that the party was on Friday at 4pm, and we arrived on Saturday at 4pm. This is right after we knocked on the door, walked around the entire complex of condos, and finally figured out what had happened:

**So, we loaded our disappointed (but not as much as I might have expected) ballerina, Batman, and Cinderella (and Bob the Builder) back into the minivan and went to the St. Luke's pumpkin patch:
Cinderella is waiting very patiently for one of those pumpkins to turn into a carriage that will take her to another family who keeps a more accurate events calendar.

Then, the camera battery died and we went to get gelato. The end.

A tree dies in Houston

For a couple of months now, one of the huge oaks in our front yard has been dying. Its leaves rather quickly began to turn from green to an orangish-brown before even a hint of fall was in the air. Then, last week, one of its massive branches came crashing down on our neighbors' driveway, narrowly missing their car. We knew it was only a matter of time before it happened again, so the tree guys were called and yesterday, while we spent the morning at Dewberry Farm, and the afternoon playing with a new group of homeschooling friends at a nearby park, the oak was dismantled limb by limb (the husband said there were very precarious moments involving dangling men wielding chain saws)and, by the time we got home at 5pm, only a stump remained.

The mystery of the whole thing is that, in spite of the drought, the rest of our trees and all of the grass around the dead tree seem to be doing just fine. I suspect the roots of this one branched deep under the slab of our house and under the neighbors' driveway. It's all very Luke 8. The healthy tree in the good soil flourishing 10 feet away from the dead tree choked by concrete. What remains:

A couple of days ago, Helena fell and started crying in the front room. I was in the kitchen and went in to see what had happened. I asked Harper, who'd been coloring at the table, if she had seen the injury. She said, "WELL. She was running. In the House. WHICH is inappropriate." I told her I needed a little less editorializing and a little more fact recitation. "She fell. AND started crying," she said with Great Judgment and Reproach in her voice.

We had a great day at Dewberry, once I surrendered the crazy idea that I was supposed to try to keep our group of 40 all together. I got very few pictures, but trust me, there was Fun of all sorts. Harper always enjoys the rubber duck racing:

Helena (and her shadow) on the bouncy things:


Hudson racing in the go-carts:

One other thing I don't want to forget. On Monday night, the husband was teaching a late class, and Harper and Hudson asked if we could go outside and star-gaze after baths and stories. I said yes, grudgingly, because I say no ALWAYS to any requests to delay bedtime on days when I've mothered solo all day. Anyway, I realized it was a lovely night, and that I probably say no far more than I should, so we read two books to set the mood (The Big, Big Sea by Martin Waddell, ill. Jennifer Eachus, and On a Starry Night by Natalie Kinsey-Warnock, ill. David McPhail) and went out to snuggle in the hammock. It was all going fine until I scooted too far to one end of the hammock and then the hammock stand toppled over, landing the three of us and Sasha in a big heap on the ground. Thankfully, there were no serious injuries, though I have a bruise on my left arm where I took the brunt of the collapse. I laughed really hard, and I think the stars were adequately gazed upon.

Week in review (a tad late)

My zeal for any consistent weekly posting wanes quickly. I don't think I'll do a day-by-day of last week, because it was pretty similar to the week before, but here are a few highlights:

**We went to the Children's Museum on Tuesday and discovered the fun treehouse exhibit we've been enjoying all summer has been replaced by a "blood-suckers" exhibit. I learned more than I wanted to about mosquitoes. There is also a tank full of leeches, and it made me happy when Harper said, "Like the ones that got on Nelly Olsen when Laura tricked her!"

**Speaking of books, I believe I've mentioned that the husband has been reading through the Narnia series with Harper and Hudson before bedtime. Hudson says "In Arnia" instead of "in Narnia" which makes me giggle.

**And on the subject of mispronunciations, Harper has always pronounced words that end in 'rn' with an extra 'i'. I first noticed it with the word 'pattern' which she pronounces "patterin." Other favorites are the planet of Saturin and the camping light lanterin. Now Hudson says them that way too. Feel free to call your neighborhood speech pathologist and send them over post haste.

**It was my birthday on Thursday and I am now 41. We went out to dinner and I got a dessert called Charlotte's Web and it was a trifle sort of thing with pieces of chocolate cake, white chocolate espresso pudding, whipped cream, and an entire Heath bar crumbled on the top. Happy birthday to me.

**My friend Molly called and invited me to join her at the symphony on Friday night. We used her dad's very excellent season tickets (5th row center) and thoroughly enjoyed the musical stylings of Idina Menzel. Idina Menzel was barefoot and full of amusing anecdotes. She sang songs from "Wicked," "Rent", (I'm not sure where that comma is supposed to go--it looks odd both ways) and "Glee." She stopped and apologized several times during the "Glee" song for making a symphony orchestra play Lady Gaga. The first half of the program (sans Idina Menzel) included Wagner and "The Funky Chicken." The conductor amuses me with his jiggy, energetic conducting and unconventional choices. He was trying to play songs that all had something to do with defying gravity (get it?) and chickens who try to fly do indeed seem to be in defiance of gravity.

**I had the thought, while watching the orchestra, that most of the musicians seemed to be about my age (now that I am "in my 40's") and this made me a little sad. I think it's officially too late for me to be a cellist in a symphony orchestra. Considering I've never actually played the cello. I had the same thought when we watched the ballet dancers a few weeks ago. On the bright side, the cello is much more likely than the professional ballet dancing.

**The kids do a presentation every week at our Classical Conversations group (it's pretty much show and tell) and this week Harper took an acorn she found and this visual aid:
I'll admit I encouraged her to take it up a notch after last week, when she brought a few of her rubber Squinkies and said, "My name is Harper and these are my Squinkies. I bought them at Target with some of my allowance money. Any questions?" Then another little girl got up next and showed the class this illustrated history of the ancient world that she had compiled when she was 4. There were paper dolls of Greek philosophers and pop-up pyramids and everything. It was awesome.

**I caught Hudson locking Helena out of his room one day and told him it was not allowed. He said, "But she plays with my Squinkies and she says 'POO POO' to me and she hits me!" I'm pretty sure at least two of those accusations are founded, but he still doesn't get to lock her out.

**Saturday night, the husband and I went to a dinner party with 3 other couples and it was delightful. At one point, the husbands were on one end of the table having a very spirited discussion about politics, while we on the Wife End discussed shopping and high school escapades and homeschooling. I thought to myself, "How grown-up we are!!" The other very big deal is that we had our first baby sitter who was not my mother.

**During the big Saturday house clean-up (because of the impending visit of the not-related-to-us babysitter) I found this scrap of paper on my desk, on which I had jotted a conversation between Harper and Hudson from around a year ago:

Harper: Hudson! Do you know that you did something very unkind?
Hudson: YES!
Harper: You ERASED my BEAUTIFUL drawing on the chalk board Hudson.
Hudson: I like red, Hopper.
Harper: I DON'T.
Hudson: You like pink, Hopper?
Harper: I like pink better than you! I'm not going to play sleepover with you tonight. I will make you play something you DON'T want to play! I will play by myself for the rest of my life.

It reminds me to be thankful for how much more harmonious their relationship is now.

And now, another week has begun. What will it bring, I wonder?

What's your point? Wednesday

I was going to write this entire post about the plagues in Exodus and how appalled I am by the Old Testament in general, but was gently reminded by my dear husband that perhaps it might be best to keep those thoughts to myself. He's right. Though poor Mrs. S got an earful at the park this morning. I have good friends who put up with me and my many eccentricities and bizarre notions. I'm thankful for that.

I think I'll do a short list of events that have transpired this week and their individual pros and cons.

1. The dog pooped in Hudson's room this morning, even though she had just come in from outside. CON. However, it has been a couple of months since this has happened. PRO. And no one stepped in it before we discovered it. PRO!

2. Monday during Hudson's nap time, he did not take a nap. CON. Then he came out and casually told me there was a lizard on his fire truck. I thought he meant a rubber lizard because we have several of those floating around at any given time. Then I went to check and it was a real lizard. I actually think lizards are kind of cute. PRO. Plus they eat roaches and mosquitoes. PRO. But it took me 20 minutes to finally catch this one (in a coffee can) and put it outside. CON. At one point, it was panting on one of the spokes of Harper's bicycle wheel, and it closed its eyes and seemed to be so exhausted. So I explained to him that it was important that he let me transport him outside because I did not want to find his tiny lizard carcass in Hudson's closet two months from now. He then tried to tell me something about how he had seen plenty of bugs to eat in Hudson's closet and I said, "LA LA LA LA!" and he closed his eyes again and let me scoop him into the coffee can. Also, during the Great Lizard Chase, Helena was busy filling up her nap diaper with something very foul, that would, perhaps, have ended up in the toilet if I had not been chasing a lizard. CON.

3. I am almost finished reading Jane Eyre. PRO and CON. I am really enjoying it, so much more than I did the first time I read it, and I don't want it to end. Even though I remember exactly how it ends. With the Brontes, happy ending is a relative term.

4. Everyone got a treat when Helena was finally successful in her excretory endeavor of the secondary kind on the toilet. PRO. We were at the Bass Pro Shop when she decided to perform. CON.

5. Hudson was doing some sort of Spiderman Activity on the back of the couch Monday when he slipped and slammed his chin down and bit his tongue really hard. There was lots of blood in his mouth. When he saw it, he started screaming and generally lost all control of his senses. CON, CON, and CON. Then he finally recovered, strapped on his guns and knives, and headed outside to climb the crepe myrtle. PRO.

6. I'm still working with the camera. Helena is, by far, the easiest to photograph. I can't really figure out why, when generally she moves the quickest. She was smiling sweetly at a bird in this shot. PRO. She was not wearing any pants. CON?

7. The kids are learning to read music and play songs on their penny whistles for our fine arts component. PRO. The kids are learning to read music and play songs on their penny whistles for their fine arts component. CON.

Week in review: donkeys to kablabi

The husband made something called kablabi for dinner tonight and it was delicious, even though he only gave it a C-. It's Tunisian and he read about it in the Wall Street Journal this morning. It's a garbanzo bean stew. Kablabi! Say it, you'll feel better. And not only did he prepare the kablabi, he also unloaded AND reloaded the dishwasher and did all of the cleaning up, something I doubt many Tunisian husbands do.

Let's review the rest of the week, even though I have technically begun at the end with all this kablabi blathering.

Monday:

Our second annual trip to the wonderful Oil Ranch. We rode a train, we took a hay ride to feed the cows and the sweet baby donkey:
We played a little miniature golf, climbed on rusty old tractors, bounced in a bounce house, milked an extremely patient cow named Daisy:The kids' favorite part this year seemed to be the barn, where they leapt around on huge stacks of hay bales and then moved vast amounts of hay from the ground floor to the hay loft. I think they could have done this for many, many more hours, but there were baby animals to visit with: A little lamb tried to escape, but Mrs. S was quite the shepherdess:
Then, as a grand finale, since we pretty much had the place to ourselves at that point, each kid got to ride the horses as many times as they wished! Helena hopped right on like it was no big deal:
I would love to post a picture of our whole group, but I don't have one. It was great to spend the day with the Swanks, Whiles, Rives, Wimberleys, and Wheelers though--even if I have no photographic proof!

The rest of the week was pretty low key. We stayed home on Tuesday and Thursday, played at the park with the Swanks on Wednesday, and went to school yesterday. On Thursday, Harper and Hudson decided to help me mow the back yard, which, because of the drought, hasn't really needed it most of the summer. They took the task very seriously:It's funny to me that they rarely want to do most of the easy tasks I ask them to do (for example, one afternoon, I asked Harper if she could push Helena in the swing for a minute while I ran in to put some clothes in the dryer and she complained and acted as though I had just asked her to mow the back forty with a pair of scissors) but they jump at the chance to do something that frankly isn't all that helpful (they can't really push the mower hard enough to actually cut the grass properly) but feels really difficult and important.

It has been raining steadily here for about 4 hours now! Our dry and weary land rejoices.