Red bell pepper universe

Today while the kids were eating lunch, Hudson said, "Mommy! What if the entire universe was full of only red bell peppers?? God would look down and say, "WOW.'" Indeed. He is, at this very moment, looking at a book about experimental organic chemistry that he pulled off the shelf. He claims he's reading it in his MIND. Perhaps he will find something to support his red bell pepper universe hypothesis. We dissected owl pellets at Classical Conversations on Friday, and while Harper thought it was terrific, Hudson found it a touch smelly, which doesn't bode well for a career in science for him. Or maybe by the time he's grown up, it will all be done by hologram or something, and there will be no smells.

Well, it is in the upper 80's here in the Houston suburbs today, so I cleaned out the sandbox (which hasn't had sand in it since we moved) let the kids put on their (getting too small) swimsuits, and play in the water. It was good (also loud) fun for an hour or so. Then Helena somehow fell and skinned  her elbow and her knee and that was cause for great (also loud) lamentation. Then she ate two entire kiwis with her lunch and that seemed to help.

Harper has been reading Alice in Wonderland by herself, and she, Hudson and I have been reading The Tale of Despereaux together before bed. It's a bit thematically intense compared to our usual stories, but I am really liking it. Next in line is a story about a little donkey named Brighty who lived in the Grand Canyon. I think a solid 90% of the books we read are about animals. Is that weird?

Do you know about Philip and Erin Stead? Their first book, titled A Sick Day for Amos McGee,  won all of the important awards for children's picture books a couple of years ago, because of its perfection and awesomeness. They have a new book, Bear Has a Story to Tell, and I just picked it up from the library on Saturday. The story is simple and delightful, and again, the illustrations are PERFECTION. I love watercolors, and Erin (Phillip is an illustrator as well, but has a different style) uses all of these very cool wood blocking techniques to get this cozy, warm, amazing effect that suits the simple stories sublimely. I looked them up on the internet and discovered they are a married couple and they live in a barn in Michigan. And they are very young, which means they have many years to keep making these books for us to love. They also have a blog on which they recommend other great books. So, if you haven't already, read these RIGHT NOW. I INSIST:

1. A Sick Day for Amos McGee and
2. Bear Has a Story to Tell by Phillip Stead, illustrated by Erin Stead
3. And Then It's Spring by Julie Fogliano, illustrated by Erin Stead

Now, I need to go do a reading lesson with Hudson so he won't have to read only in his MIND, but will actually know how to read in REALITY.

Patchy, at best

I have opened up the comments. I didn't actually know what my setting was, but I had three different people tell me that they would like to leave comments, but couldn't because they didn't have a google account, or couldn't remember their password. I like comments, and I hope I don't get any mean anonymous ones, or ones in different languages trying to get me and my LEGION of readers to sign up for some sort of Chinese ponzi scheme.

Further evidence of my shocking lack of technology acumen: a couple of weekends ago I had this very unpleasant sinus/allergy thing, during which I was confined to the bed for an entire day with only my trusty iPad and a doting chihuahua to grant me solace, and it somehow popped up on the Facebook that I had "liked" an article that I had not even read, and had CERTAINLY not "liked." It happened to be an article (I did go and peruse the first paragraph, while quivering with indignation) about Michelle Duggar's uterus writing a letter of protest. I would never read or "like" such an article, because I actually have the utmost respect for Mrs. Duggar and her family. Also, everyone knows that a uterus can't write a letter. Anyway, I had been on the site where the article was listed, in order to, and this is a twist, read an article about how Facebook was posting supposedly private messages on public walls, and how to fix it. I don't know if Sasha the dog managed to hit the like button in her zeal to get just a little bit closer to me in my infirmity, or if one of the kids did it in their eagerness to help me feel better so I would get up and go outside so they could ride their bikes. Anyway, it made me even more scared of Facebook.

Helena has been waking up at around 6 am and she will get up and get herself dressed and then play in her room until she hears the Daddy rustling around. Some of the outfits she puts together are less than matching, but I do not comment, because I love that she is getting herself up independently. She also will wander into the kitchen and get everyone a spoon and their vitamin, and place them neatly on the table. Of course, the other two find reasons to be displeased with her spoon choices, which makes me sigh.

I turned 42 on Saturday. Which means I am a little more than halfway through my life, statistically. The husband got me mini bundt cakes, we ate out TWICE, and I bought a very ugly pair of slippers for 75% off at the mall. AND my parents came on Friday, which is always a delight. They always give me money on my birthday and I bought a new shirt and a cardigan and also a Noonday bracelet. Harper also made me three bracelets all by herself. Here's a picture: (L-R: Harper Designs, Noonday, Harper Designs, the ugly slippers in the background. I had to kick while posing)

One of the churches we've been visiting has a huge pumpkin patch every October. The kids were all very excited to go to church this morning. Because they love to worship God in community with other believers (where there just happen to be hundreds of pumpkins):

Mood swing

We are just back from a few days with the Grandparents Pate. The two huge pecan trees in their backyard (which were mere twigs when they moved into the house when I was Hudson's age) had a bountiful harvest this year, and they needed all the little helpers they could get to gather them up, shell them, and eat them. Thekids all like pecans (which I never did until I grew up and got some sense) though Helena does tend to chew each one for about 20 minutes and then decide she might want to spit it out instead of actually swallowing it. We went to the Tugboat Island park (and saw a real tugboat pushing a barge down the Neches River! The kids barely glanced at it because they were in such a hurry to get to the faux tugboat on the playground.) Then Helena really wanted to swing on the tire swing and thought it important that at least one of the other two join her. They declined, and this was very sad news indeed. She then decided that I was not being very sympathetic to her plight, and she progressed through the five stages of grief. While I showed great sensitivity by taking many pictures:

 

Intersection

This year Classical Conversations (our once-a-week homeschool co-op) was kind enough to put our history timeline to music. I have some issues with their musical choices at times (things can get a touch trilly, which is trying for me) though it is beyond dispute that putting words to music makes memorizing so much easier. Exhibit A: Harper was playing with the Scrabble tiles, and I came in to discover this. Romulus got shorted a bit with the two blank tiles.

At the end of the timeline song (September 11, 2001 is the last peg--when will there be something to add, I wonder?) the singer sings, "Timeline, timeline, I'm part of my timeline," and it gets me every time to hear the kids singing that. I don't think they get the whole "intersecting time and space" idea just yet (in spite of all the Francis Schaeffer bedtime stories) and I wonder at what age that happens. Maybe when they grasp the passing of time? I was thinking about how Helena refers to any sleeping she does as "my nap"--she thinks the 12 hours she sleeps at night is basically the same as the two hours she sleeps in the afternoon. I think Harper might be beginning to grasp it a little, now that she can tell time. But when you are seven, the passing of time is strictly reason for anticipation and excitement. For our safe, well-fed little people, there is no dread, no real tedium, no physical labor to speak of. I read this article in the Wall Street Journal a couple of weeks ago about how kids today (the safe, well-fed sort) aren't being allowed to experience adversity in any real way, and that it is leading to a lack of character. The author of the article called them a generation without grit. I'll confess that my kids are gritless. But I'm also not sure what real adversity is supposed to look like for them. Is losing every soccer game or not having a friend to sit by at lunch the same thing as some 9 year old boy during the Civil War having to keep the family farm running after his dad died on the battlefield, or a girl having to take in sewing instead of going to school during the Depression so that her family could afford flour?  How do we put our kids in authentic situations in which they can experience adversity? Let me know, would you, so I can again sleep like a normal person? When I have these little existential crises, I get a touch of insomnia.

On that note, and I think I have mentioned this once or twice, I love coffee. Perhaps to the point of idolatry. The good news is, I am content to drink the kind we make at home, and only in the morning. But the thought of that going away, ever, is so dire I can't ponder it.

 I just started reading a biography of Jonathan Edwards, trying to figure out what goals we need to have for the  kids. He started at Yale when he was 13. I'm still pretty sure I don't care if my kids even go to college, so we'll see if this changes my mind.

Harper painted a cardinal on this tiny canvas for Grandmother M's birthday. She has been nurturing a bit of an inflated ego lately. As she was putting the finishing touches on her cardinal, she queried aloud, "I wonder who is the best painter in the family now?" and I assured her that it was certainly still me, because I've had so many more years of practice. She conceded, but I think she secretly still thinks she's better. She also told me yesterday that she could definitely ride her bike fast enough to beat a car. Sometimes I pop her balloon of self-delusion, sometimes I say things like, "With lots of perseverance and hard work, who knows?!!" Her biking confidence is mostly stemming from a camping trip last weekend with the Daddy, during which there was trail riding on their bikes that apparently involved steep ravines and other dangerous endeavors. They were both pretty puffed up that they had done it without falling. Maybe because they were super stylish in their Keens WITH socks. 

Last night when we were reading the Jesus Storybook Bible, Helena asked me what Jesus' last name was. I told her 'of Nazareth' and also 'Christ' and sometimes, 'The Messiah." Then she asked how old God is. I told her infinity, and she seemed pleased. Then she went to bed and called it her nap. And dreamed, perhaps, of ballerina bears.