Knuckle-headed

A telemarketer just called me a knucklehead. I giggled for 20 minutes after I got off the phone. A knucklehead! That young man probably does not have much of a future in sales, bless him. I simply asked him if he was trying to sell me something, and he did not care for that knuckle-headed question. When I told Hudson what the guy said, he said, "whoa HO, wait until Daddy hears about this!" Then all the kids sweetly assured me that I am in no way a knucklehead. Whew.

Yesterday I had lunch duty at the kids' school. An entire table of Pre-kindergarteners asked me, one by one, "Do you know my mom?" Then they would tell me their mom's name, and they all sounded something like "Lawlan Wemelnish."  I lied to every one of them and told them that yes, I thought I did know their mom, and that she is very nice. They seemed really relieved and also excited. Note to self: meet more moms with Pre-K students so I don't have to lie next time.

Sunday when we were leaving church, Harper and I saw EIGHT roseate spoonbills sitting on the shore of Oyster Creek. Of course we pulled over.  We got within about 15 feet of them, then they made annoyed noises to each other and flew to the other side. Maybe they could tell that I did not know their mother.

The highlight of yesterday was that I got to hold my new friend Mr. Th for the first time. He is four days old and I like him a bushel and also a peck. I actually do know HIS mother.

The Tragic Ruination of the Orange Bishop

Hudson has been working on a science project for weeks that involves drawing and painting lots of mammals and birds and reptiles. Yesterday afternoon he had been laboring over a ruby- throated hummingbird, and was just finishing up an orange bishop when Harper strolled over and noted that the photograph of the orange bishop he was using was so charming, she thought she might paint it herself. I suggested she might want to work at a different table (because experience has taught us that two left-handed kids trying to use watercolors in close proximity to one another is sometimes awkward) but both she and Hudson thought they could make space next to Hudson. You can see where this is going? Hudson had just filled his brush with black paint and Harper reached over to get the water. His elbow was jostled, the brush full of black paint went slashing across the orange bishop, and CHAOS ENSUED. There were ear-piercing histrionics from Hudson, then Harper joined him, feeling equal parts sorry, defensive, and annoyed that he was so upset even though IT WAS JUST AN ACCIDENT. It took around 15 minutes to diffuse the situation. Helena ran upstairs to escape the tension. She came back down when things settled and reminded all of us, rather smugly, that she was "the only kid not crying!" Helpful. We had, the night before, read The Sorely Trying Day by Russell and Lillian Hoban. If you've read it (and you should!) you will note some similarities to our event. Though, thankfully, in our version the blame could not be traced back to any animals living in our house. Anyway, the good news is, after the ruby-throated hummingbird was salvaged, the orange bishop deemed beyond fixing and wadded up rather violently and put into the recycling by Hudson, the offended party and the offending party were back to normal. Harper was offering to give Hudson horse back rides on her back if, "he would promise to ride side-saddle like a proper lady."

In other, much happier, bird news, we spent the day after Thanksgiving doing a little birding near the Grandparents' and Harper and I saw a belted kingfisher! He flew away before we could get a picture, but it was quite a thrill.  I did manage to get a few shots of brown pelicans engaging in their unique style of dive bomb fishing.

This was a pretty fantastic moment--my parents strolling behind me, my boys and girls scampering in front of me, the water sparkling, the sea grass waving. Glorious.

Harper begins.

It was a big week for dear Harper. She had a science presentation at school on Wednesday. She learned all about famed ornithologist Florence Augustus Merriam Bailey, and did a first person presentation to her class. She painted some of Mrs. Bailey's favorite birds. and told her class all about her crusade to get women to stop wearing bird feathers on their enormous hats, which was the epitome of high fashion in the late 1800's. I loved Bailey's "velvet fist" approach--instead of scolding her classmates at Smith that their fashion choices were encouraging the slaughter of millions of birds, she took them on nature hikes to show them birds in their natural habitats. It worked! They stopped wearing feathers, formed an Audubon Society, and spent their weekends birding in the forests of Massachusetts. Here, Florence and Roger Tory Peterson were discussing owls. I think they were a little awed that Lucy Audubon was right behind them.

On Saturday, she had her first Suzuki ribbon festival. She played her two songs ("Chant Arabe" and "Claire de la Lune") and got a medal. It was a special treat to have the Grandparents Pate here.

Then yesterday, she stood in front of our sweet church, proclaimed that she believes the life and death and resurrection of Jesus is for HER, was baptized, and partook of the Table. When our pastor and one of the elders interviewed her last week, our pastor told her,"Harper, you are why I came to Sugar Land! I am so thankful for God's work in you." Then after he baptized her yesterday, our entire church held their hands aloft and sang this blessing over her:

The Lord bless you and keep you.
The Lord make his face shine upon you
And give you peace, and give you peace,
And give you peace forever.

The Lord be gracious to you,
The Lord turns his face toward you
And give you peace, and give you peace,
And give you peace forever.

Yes, I love our church. Yes, I was weeping throughout this. I wanted so much to look out at all of their faces, but I knew I couldn't manage to and still keep to my feet. So I looked down at Harper's radiant little face and was full, full of thanks.

Strep by strep

I will never learn that boasting about more frequent blogging will inevitably lead to some sort of plague. Helena woke up last Wednesday with a fever. I will take a moment to mention the very mixed emotions I feel when it becomes clear that one of the kids is going to have to stay home on one of the days they are supposed to go to campus. Thankfully, it has only happened twice, because they are not my finest mothering moments. OF COURSE, I am sad my children are unwell, but I am just the tiniest bit sadder that I am not going to get to do what I had planned for that day.

The pediatrician confirmed with a swab that Helena did indeed have strep throat for the second time this month, and this time, I had it too. So, we picked up our antibiotics, and came home and I wiped down the entire house with Clorox wipes. Harper woke up feeling puny on Saturday, so I took her and Hudson in for a swab.  They both tested negative, but the doctor suggested prophylactic antibiotics just in case. Maybe you'll remember that we made it almost 9 years without a single prescription medication, and now I am giving my kids antibiotics "just in case." But guess what? It is Wednesday morning and I am blogging in my quiet house while my strep-free kids are at school.

We did make it to church on Sunday, because the doctors had assured me we were no longer infectious. In spite of this, Helena announced, in a loud voice, during communion, to her sweet teen-aged friends Natalie and Gabrielle, "I cannot play with you today! I am ILL!! With STRECK THROAT." Then we came home and enjoyed the new fire pit the husband bought Saturday. S'mores are even better than antibiotics when you are STRECKEN. Also, yes, we have a hammock hanging from our playset. The kid also have one hanging in their room now.

Sonic youth

I don't want to boast about being on a roll, but I think I might be. I thought about doing that write an entire novel in the month of November deal, but I think blogging more frequently is probably about as ambitious as I can be just now.

We were in the bathroom at Whole Foods last week and the Mr. Mister song "Kyrie Eleison" came on and, naturally, I started singing it in a pretty loud voice. I told Harper it was a pop song from when I was in high school and that it has Latin words in it. She seemed very impressed. Not really with my singing because, boy howdy, it gets up a little out of my range, but that her burgeoning Latin skills are going to serve her in so many unexpected ways.

Today was a rough day, but we made it through. The grammar curriculum we are using (First Language Lessons) requires me to expend MANY MANY words. Today, just for Harper's lesson, I was supposed to read "I Wandered Lonely as a Cloud" three times through before we even started the grammar script. I wanted to stamp on those lovely daffodils, I did. Then we got to history and I was  FRAYED, and I was subjected to the soothing balm that is Oliver Cromwell and the beheading of King Charles. Also the plague and the London fire of 1666. Harper commented that she "used to feel sorry for the Puritans, but now I really don't."

Sunday afternoon we did a science experiment with red cabbage juice, vinegar, lemon juice, and baking soda. (note: we were actually supposed to do it on Thursday.)  It was pretty smelly and the kids kept eating the cabbage and taking sips of things. I warned them that not all chemistry experiments are edible. The first picture, I have just noticed, has captured Sasha engaging in one of her favorite pastimes: shredding a paper towel which she will then leave in a slobbery pile for me to pick up. The second picture was actually after we finished the experiment and Harper was using the acid and base mixtures to try to tie-dye some paper towels.

 

Car Talk

The saddest news I heard today is that Tom Magliozzi died. There are things to dislike about NPR, but The Tappet brothers have brought me joy for many years.

When I pick the kids up at school on Mondays and Wednesdays, we play at the park for a little bit, then we get in the car and take turns doing Roses and Thorns for the trip home. Each of us thinks of the best thing and the worst thing that happened during the day. Today, Helena's thorn was that "Mommy forgot to give me animal crackers for my afternoon snack and I only had gummy bunnies and there were only four small ones in the little bag!"  To which I say, in my head, "kids in Sierra Leone are dying of Ebola right this minute instead of counting how many gummy bunnies are in their individually wrapped, naturally colored, organic, non-GMO snack." Out loud I say, "oh, well, aren't you glad you had such a good lunch? With JELLY BEANS for a special treat?"

My roses were a bouquet today: Bach at morning assembly, breakfast at Buffalo Grille, a few errands, some quiet reading time at the arboretum, and then coffee with a new friend.  The thorn was that we got to our piano lesson and I realized Harper has practiced about 10 minutes total this week. Let's hope that hearing Mrs.F's mastery of Bach this morning inspired her to do better this week.

Did you know Bach had TWENTY children?? S.D.G. indeed.

and Tigger smiled his happiest smile and said nothing.

Three days in a row! That is a FEAT.

Hudson's book party went off very nicely, and then afterwards he took off his Tigger tail and he and some friends used it as nunchucks on the playground. Or maybe it was a sword? It was very hard to tell, but they were all Quite Earnest in their Ninja. Just what A.A. Milne was picturing, no doubt.

 

I spent two hours at the dentist today. The reason it took two hours is because I had not had my teeth cleaned in, perhaps, years. So there was much Dental Unpleasantness to endure. Which makes me want to never go again. Except that I have another appointment next Wednesday. To which I say BOTHER.

The unbearable lightness of being

I finally watched "Gravity" this weekend. I confess that, even in my extremely limited understanding of astrophysics, I was distracted by things careening when I thought maybe they wouldn't actually BE careening. The most stressful moments, for me, were when she finally got in those escape pods and the entire control board was in Cyrillic, and then Chinese characters. FRAUGHT. Because even if one is a brilliant medical engineer, one cannot possibly be expected to READ RUSSIAN AND CHINESE after only SIX months of astronaut training!! I actually mentioned this at church on Sunday to my friend Kelly's husband, who is a pilot in the Air Force, and he said that there was part of his training during which he was required to jump into planes manufactured in Russia and China and figure out how to fly them. He said the pilots before him had left POST-IT NOTES on the buttons to help with translating. Good GRIEF, can you even imagine?

Anyway, we took the canoe out again on Saturday, and I realized that there are many moments in my life during which I feel as though the entire control board is in a language I can't read. For example, "helping" the husband get the canoe loaded onto the top of the minivan. Also, in "helping" get the canoe down to the river. Also, in paddling the canoe in such a way that we don't run directly into river detritus. We launched into the Brazos River, and the husband was clanking with all manner of weaponry because of rumors of alligators and venomous snakes and even bobcats. Much to his and the kids' disappointment, the only wildlife we encountered was dragonflies, a Great Blue Heron, and a few other tiny, harmless waterfowl. Helena sits at the very front. Here she is, lolling:

 It is only natural that you are envious of my hat. Perhaps it is what scared off the alligators, venomous snakes, and bobcats?

On a related note, gravity and other physics concepts were rather unkind to Harper on the playground after school yesterday. She was running after a soccer ball and ran directly in front of a little girl who was swinging. Harper got a foot to the jaw, which was actually powerful enough to knock her into the air, and then unceremoniously dump her back down to earth. She was affronted, even as I explained that the swinging girl was utterly without fault. (Just for future reference, a wailing child is not easily comforted by a mini-lecture on potential and kinetic energy.) It was all very noisy, but she seems completely recovered today. It was actually a great time to remind her of an incident last week in which she tagged a little girl with too much force while they were both running at full speed, and the little girl tripped and tumbled heels over head, scraping various parts of her body. Moral: sometimes we ourselves are wounded by physics, and sometimes we ourselves are the vehicle for wounding others.

This little piggie

I am going to do a short post every day this week.

Our school, since we only have two campus days per week, does not spend any of that time doing traditional parties. Instead, whenever classes finish the books the teachers read aloud, there is a book party at the end of the day during which kids can dress as their favorite character from the book. I present Wilbur from Charlotte's Web for your viewing pleasure:

I tried to buy a pink shirt at Hobby Lobby the day before the party and there was nary a pink t-shirt to buy. And would you believe we didn't already own a plain pink shirt? Because we did not. So. I spent $5 on a yard of pink fleece and then spent 45 minutes sewing three seams (by hand because even though my friend Maggie loaned me a sewing machine 2 years ago, I still can't figure out the bobbin.) on this Pig Tunic Extraordinaire.

 

Wilbur especially enjoyed holding Templeton the rat. Her classmate especially enjoyed unfurling her piggy tail. It was RADIANT.

ObSTREPeroUS

I hate to be one more voice complaining about communicable diseases, but we have been battling the streptococcus at our house. Hudson got the tell-tale rash (scarletina! It sounds like a lovely piano composition!) on Friday, and when we got to the pediatrician, she decided to swab Helena as well, even though she'd been feeling chipper. Chipper, with strep throat. So, she is on her first ever round of antibiotics.  She and Hudson claim the medicine tastes like dirty socks, but I think they actually like it. I am just thankful we have the medicine we need. See how much better they feel? (sorry for the grainy pictures. They were moving really fast.)

The husband has been wanting a canoe. So, we went to REI and bought a red one (along with Much Gear),  strapped it on top of the minivan (I am very sorry not to have a picture of this. It is Griswoldian), and took it out on the bayous of Sugar Land. Since three-fifths of us were not feeling ship-shape, we mostly lolled in the canoe and soaked in some vitamin D while the husband and Harper rowed us around. I see lots of canoe adventures in our family future.

 

It has been a week of firsts for Helena. She also got her first ever new pair of running shoes. She hasn't seemed to mind all of the handed down clothes and shoes, but she was pretty thrilled with how bright and shiny these are. They make her look older, somehow. She has also realized she can pick Sasha up. Sasha is less excited about this than Helena is. There has been quite a bit of smothering and disgruntled growling.

We had our science class at the Museum of Natural Science two weeks ago, and we had the best time with the butterflies afterward. There was an elderly museum volunteer trying to herd recently hatched butterflies from the glass encased butterfly hatchery and it was HIGH comedy. He was so amazing and gentle, grabbing the butterflies and trying to get them into a net hamper so he could release them in the atrium. He would get a blue morpho into the hamper, only he wouldn't zip it closed all the way, so the blue morpho would sneak out and start fluttering around the little room. The kids would then squeal and tap on the glass and point to let him know he had an escapee. We watched for over an hour, then he came out and took us with him for the release. It was a good day.

October 1, 2014

1. Hudson had to stay home from school today. Our first absence. He had a fever, and then he threw up. He made it into our bathroom, which was a relief. He did not quite make it to the toilet, and, unfortunately, SEVEN pairs of the husband's dress pants were draped in the environs of the splatter zone. So, the dry cleaning bill will be higher than usual this month (the dry cleaning bill is usually zero dollars.) Hudson spent most of the day napping on the couch. He also watched "Clone Wars" on Netflix (first time--boys who throw up get special t.v. time) and a couple of Ninjago episodes. Then we did a little of the school work he was missing--chapter 8 of House at Pooh Corner. Piglet was brave. Can a WOL and a silly old bear really be trusted to hoist a Piglet up to the topsy-turvy mail slot? Piglet is not sure at all. We also learned about an animal named a pink fairy armadillo in the animal encyclopedia. It is as cute as you might imagine. We did not accomplish any math or spelling.

2. I don't want to forget that the kids still call us Mommy and Daddy. I don't know when that stops. Never is fine with me.

3. I got a fairly severe paper cut one day last week, and I under-reacted just to model for Helena that it is possible to reign it in. It bled and everything. It was her story Bible that did the cutting. Like an actual sword! Does anyone remember Bible drills wherein we would present our Swords before we frantically rifled trying to find Haggai before our friends did at the Wednesday night church festivities?

4. A few months ago I inadvertently requested a large print book from the library. It was a delightful mistake! Now I do it on purpose! While also utilizing my readers. The font ends up being about a centimeter high.

5. Harper started Suzuki piano lessons in June, and she is making nice progress. I am re-learning with her and, this time around, I love to practice. She seems to really enjoy it too. Just as she did with our gymnastics class (a cartwheel on the high beam! A bounder on the trampoline! A back hip circle on the bars..) she is intent on the next skill, and she works and works. We stopped gymnastics in May and it's possible she can't do any of those skills anymore. At least she can still play piano when she is 85. The bounder on the trampoline? Doubtful.

The paper cut heard round the world

We started a new school. Big News. The kids are on campus (without me!) two days a week, and we do lots of work at home on the days in between. The kids seem to be adjusting really well, and I am trying to get organized so our days at home run more smoothly. As long as we get all of our work done, we take Fridays off to play.

We stopped at Marble Slab to celebrate after the first campus day. The first home day was pretty frazzled, but we managed to get everything finished (at 5 p.m.) Then, on the third home day, when I thought things were going pretty well, Helena got a paper cut just after breakfast, and her reaction was EPIC. It went from drama to high drama to higher drama. Of course she could NOT write, even though the cut was on her left hand, and she is right-handed. Then just when she would decide she might be able to stop howling about it, some fresh new indignation would occur (salt, soap, air) and the shrieking sorrow would begin again. I finally asked her WHAT I could do to HELP and she wailed, "I just need you to feel SORRIER for me!" So I tried to feel sorrier.


You might imagine that I have plans aplenty for my days at home alone. One is to blog more frequently. May it be so!

Independence days

All three of my kids can now swim independently. Helena does this slow dog paddle thing and lets her head sort of loll back into the water. It looks pretty much like drowning, but I can tell by the blissed out smile on her face that all is well. She goes down the twisty slide over and over, while the other two dive and dart and canonball. It seems like it was just a few weeks ago that I had a four year old, a two year old, and an infant, and the thought of going to the pool filled me with great angst. And now I can read a book while they all swim.

I just finished (and loved) North and South by Elizabeth Gaskell. It has been a reading sort of summer. Lots of novels (The Storied Life of A.J. Fickry by Gabrielle Zevin, The Sparrow by Mary Doria Russell, Z: A Novel of Zelda Fitzgerald by Therese Anne Fowler, This Side of Paradise and a few short stories by Zelda's husband, The Twleve by Justin Cronin, Rules of Civility by Amor Towles, and Where'd You Go Bernadette? by Maria Semple. I read The Goldfinch by Donna Tartt in there somewhere too--but maybe it was still spring.) Margie sent me 84 Charing Cross Road (loved! emphatically recommend) by Helene Hanff, and it made for a delightful afternoon at the beach. I also read one of Brene Brown's books on vulnerability, mostly because I kept seeing her name referenced in articles I was reading. I don't really read much nonfiction, except biographies and the rare memoir, and this book did not persuade me to change that. Is that vulnerable that I just confessed that?

 We had a scissor-tailed flycatcher family in a pine tree on our way to the pool. We discovered them because we saw the male having an aerial spat with a vulture 10 times his size. He chased it and pecked it until they were tiny dots so far in the sky we could barely see them. Then, finally, Daddy scissor-tail swooped back down to the nest, sans vulture. He and Mrs. Scissor-tail were really vigilant  parents, and yet only two of the four babies survived (one was smashed by a car, the other was beheaded by a cat or maybe a bird of prey. Yes, I grieved more than is appropriate. I mean WHY WOULD YOU GIVE FLYING LESSONS OVER A BUSY STREET???)  They actually moved from the pine tree to group of oaks right outside of our house for their final days of flight lessons, which was considerate of them. However, I also spent more time than was Probably Normal checking on those two fuzzy, adorable, tweeting survivors, clapping and scolding when grackles and mockingbirds got too close. Feel free to join my neighbors in referring to me as Crazed Bird Lady.

So, the summer flies by. We read and swim and eat at fairly regular intervals. Big changes are on the horizon, and I am trying to "dare greatly" and get dirty in the arena etc.

Prized.

When Harper was 6 she saw a commercial on PBS (they actually don't call them" commercials", they have another, less capitalistic, less corporate, less greedy word for them) for a story contest. She decided she was going to enter the contest and WIN. She wrote and illustrated a cute story about a stingray and some other sea animals. She did not win, but she got a nice certificate. Undaunted, she entered again last year. This story was about her stuffed puppy Sasha entering a horseback riding competition. Sasha won the horseback riding competition, but the story did not win the story contest. Again, Harper got a nice certificate for her participation. She was a little disappointed, but not as much as I expected she might be.

I thought maybe she wouldn't want to enter the contest this year, but mentioned it casually when I got an email about it. She decided she would write a story about a bald eagle. She worked really hard on the watercolor illustrations. She researched details, and we had some great practice distinguishing between "summarizing" and "plagiarizing." She titled it A Bald Eagle's Journey. And the third year was the charm! She was named a finalist, and we all got to go to an awards ceremony at the Children's Museum. She got a medal and a backpack full of public broadcasting "swag" which included a ruler, several pencils, a Highlights magazine, some Daniel Tiger Stickers, and some sort of Leap Pad game that requires a Leap Pad (which we don't have). It was all pretty thrilling. We are proud of her.

I hope she always loves creating. I hope she always finds joy in a good story. I hope she is always as tenacious as she is now. 

If wishes were puppies.

Our neighborhood pool is open at last. We went for a swim yesterday afternoon and Helena was having such a terrific time that when I told her it was time to get out, she did, but then she said this:

"I wish I didn't have a Mommy because then I could do whatever I wanted and I wouldn't have to obey."

Her tone was pleasant and polite so I didn't take it very personally. I actually love that she says exactly what is on her mind. I did wonder aloud who would tuck her in and give her kisses and prepare her food. She thought for a second, then:

"I think a big dog could take care of me and do all of those things."

So, she was listening after all when I read Peter Pan aloud a couple of years ago. Helena needs a Nana who will let her stay in the pool as long as she wishes. Though I don't think Nana would do a very good job buttoning dresses or putting hair in buns.

In other hair news, a few weeks ago, we were moving some furniture around and Harper discovered some golden curls behind the play kitchen. Were they from a doll? They were not. Helena confessed that she has been giving herself trims. With all of the curls, it was tricky to see, but she definitely did some damage in the general bangs region. She couldn't explain why exactly, but I think it might be her response to all of the comments she gets about her pretty curls. She doesn't necessarily love strangers telling her that her hair is SO PRETTY every time we go out. This is the look she generally uses as her response:

In other hair news, this conversation:

Helena: Mommy. Can you please make a bun in this ballerina Barbie's hair?
Me: Would you like a high bun or a low bun?
Helena: Hudson! Do you want a high bun or a low bun?

Brother of the year, for sure. He has a GI Joe action figure that condescends to interact with the ballerina Barbies on occasion. And apparently, GI Joe likes a lady with an updo.

I realize I never did Helena's birthday interview, and I hope to at some point. The only thing she wanted for her birthday was Barbies. (Maybe you will remember my aversion). I really tried to redirect her wishes, but she was determined. So, she got four ballerina Barbies (including a ridiculous looking Ken ballerino) and a bride (all from grandparents). She pulls them out about twice a month, and they all switch clothes, do a few pirouettes, and maybe some Krav Maga with GI Joe.After a few days of enthusiasm, they get pushed under her bed, forgotten.

In other Helena news, she lost her first tooth today! This is much earlier than the other two lost any of theirs. They were both close to 7. The tooth fairy has realized that a dollar a tooth is probably more than she wants to pay for all of these teeth falling out. She didn't really think it through. SIXTY baby teeth.

The arts are very fine.

I have many posts coming. Just you wait!

This semester we did some homeschool art classes at the Houston Museum of Fine Arts. The instructor was this delightful diminutive French lady who was Montessori trained and who also, it came out, was educated in art at Cambridge (England, not Boston). She had such a wonderful way with kids and with art, and we really enjoyed her tutelage. We learned about Georges Braques, the watercolors of John Singer Sargent, and renaissance art.

 Here are the visuals.

Braques: (he liked collage)

 

A fountain in Venice a la John Singer Sargent: (the art teacher had to talk Harper down on this one. Harper had almost rubbed a hole in her watercolor paper with erasing.) Then, with 10 minutes left she managed this loveliness with oil pastels:

Then, a Renaissance rendering of the Blessed Mother.

 By Helena:

 

By me:

 

By Harper:

 

And by Hudson:

 

 

Mary: NINJA STYLE.

 

This week I am going to attempt to write about our glorious vacation. Also, Harper won a contest.