Necessity is the mother of invention

I found the cord. Here is Harper playing a violin sonata on her guitar. It sounded a little like Vivaldi, but she claims it was The Scooter Duck Song. Which is what she calls "Beautiful Scandalous Night" because apparently there is a picture on the screen at church when Mr. Seay sings this song that looks, to Harper, like a duck on a scooter. It's a mysterious thing, the toddler mind. She was singing along with "Beautiful Scandalous Night" on our way to church yesterday morning and she got to this lyric, "Cleanse your heart and soul, in the fountain that flowed.." She got pensive for a moment, then, "Would Flo like the Scooter Duck Song? Her name is in there." Flo is a character in the movie "Cars." My kid is already superimposing the sacred on the secular. All of those Francis Schaeffer bedtime stories are finally paying off!

I finished Slaughterhouse-Five yesterday. It's bizarre and affecting stuff. Fiction (and, in this case, satire) really is the perfect conduit for making a historical event (in this case, the fire bombing of Dresden in WWII) seem so vivid. It leaves you shaking your head at the end, saying, "How could I not have KNOWN about this?" I did the same thing a few years back after reading a novel set during the Armenian genocide. I think my good friend Sting must have gotten the title and theme of his song "Children's Crusade" from Vonnegut. Conspire as they may, I still cry every time I hear the national anthem or watch those Marine recruitment commercials. There's no amount of satire or soaring anti-war lyrics that will ever change that.

We watched "The Darjeeling Limited" this weekend. I thought the "making-of" featurette was more compelling than the movie, if we're honest. I find Wes Anderson and his Vision (not to mention his skinny suits) more interesting than the actual movies he makes. I also watched, regrettably, "Enchanted." I'm not making fun of you if you liked it. I just thought it was weird and kind of disturbing. **SPOILER ALERT!** Why exactly did the stepmother have to be a terrifying dragon in the last 15 minutes of the movie? I guess it's my issue with most Disney movies, even the totally animated ones--the evil creatures are so over the top. "Cars" is a notable exception. The bad guys actually have more human-like flaws--arrogance, vanity, the tendency to push other cars out of the way in order to win the race. Plus you get Randy Newman and James Taylor. "Enchanted" had THREE songs nominated for Academy Awards and I found them all pretty annoying. Ew, AND, **SPOILER ALERT #2!!** there are lots of roaches during one of the songs.

I watched the last 3 minutes of regulation time of the Kansas-Memphis game. I've never seen desperation fouling work that well. I had watched a few of the games while we were at my parents' because my mom is an ardent basketball fan. (My dad, interestingly, is an ardent basketball napper. He prefers NASCAR) It drives her crazy because if I come into a game after it has started I will always pull for the team that is losing, or for the school that I think is more academically impressive. She was really into the Stanford-Texas game and I started congratulating the Stanford players when they made points. "WHY are you cheering for Stanford??" she demanded to know. "Because it is really hard to get into Stanford--imagine if you had to make decent grades AND go to all of that basketball practice. And out-of-town games!" One of the many things I love about my husband is that he doesn't care at all about watching sports. In fact, on Super Bowl night, I watched "Persuasion" on Masterpiece Theatre, and I think there was a Final Four game on while I watched the second half of "Sense and Sensibility" last Sunday night. Last night I watched "A Room With a View." It was just okay. They changed the ending. Speaking of ending, I should. Here's a picture of a rare moment of sibling cooperation and fun:

falls to the earth

Margie and Robin have some really lovely spring photos over at But Be Like the Sun and Fruit on the Vines. You should go look at them because I can't find the cord to download any new pictures. Hudson has been walking for 3 weeks now and we still have not captured it on video because the memory stick is full on the camera. Pretty soon we'll be like that commercial where the parents have the 21 year old taking a bath in the kitchen sink so they can finally film it. Even though I don't have a visual I do have a spring story to tell. I have been watching, for around 45 minutes now, a baby bird who is stuck on our little patio. Actually, I think he's technically a fledgling. He spent the first 20 minutes or so staring at the brick wall. Then his mom brought him a snack and told him something. He then hopped up on the tricycle and started flexing his wings a little. Then he did this little deep knee bend exercise over and over. Then he fell off the tricycle. Then his mom brought him another snack. Then the leaf blower guys came by and he scurried around probably thinking the apocalypse had come and here he was with no mommy and a tricycle that he's too little to ride. He has now crouched under one of the pedals and appears to be napping. I stood at the door for awhile and quietly, as do the little sparrows in Peter Rabbit, implored him to exert himself. I thought about trying to help but from the looks of his mother they are some sort of jay and I think they can be rather aggressive when they feel their young are in danger. I intervened with nature a few days ago at the duck pond just outside the zoo. We were enjoying watching some new ducklings and this nutria (it looks kind of like an otter/rat) paddled over and seemed a little too interested in one of the ducklings who had wandered away a little. The mother duck didn't seem alarmed but I didn't really want Harper and Hudson and Izzy and Abby to have their duckling experience marred by carnage so I started clapping and scolding the nutria until it slithered back into the water. It's possible that this was more alarming to Harper than the alternative would have been. The entire way home she asked, over and over, "Mommy why were you clapping and being loud to that otter? I don't want to see the ducklings next time Mommy. Mommy why were you clapping and being loud to that otter..."

Harper has found a house she likes. We pass it when we walk to the park and we've watched it being built over the last few months. She said on Friday, "Our house is almost finished Mommy." Did you say OUR house, Harper? "Yes. That is going to be our house. For Harper Anne and Daddy and Hudson and Mommy." (I was pleased that Hudson was included.) Just for fun I decided to look up the house on har.com and it costs $2.2 million. Her hopes, I'm afraid, will have to be dashed.

so it goes. (second draft)

Kurt Vonnegut stole my idea. In 1969, which was before I was born. Unless you ascribe to his whole "unstuck in time" idea. It's right there on page 39 of Slaughterhouse-Five, which I am reading with my book club:

"She did develop a terrific hankering for a crucifix, though. And she bought one from a Santa Fe gift shop during a trip the little family made out West during the Great Depression. Like so many Americans, she was trying to construct a life that made sense from things she found in gift shops.
And the crucifix went up on the wall of Billy Pilgrim."

So much for originality. Solomon was SUCH a know-it-all. It's my first experience with Vonnegut and I am a fan so far. I suppose there are more embarrassing sources from whom I could have unintentionally stolen an idea for a short story.

The kids and I have been with my parents for a few days. Sadly, someone has already written a surprisingly successful novel (it's titled The Liar's Club--can't remember the author--Mary Karr?) about growing up in and around Port Arthur. Her experience was vastly different from mine but I think she probably covered all of the literary bases. Alas. ***[There was a story here and I have removed it because as I tried to go to sleep last night, my inner Mr. Knightley reminded me that while there are indeed many things that are ripe for satire (the unfeeling English government during a potato famine, dictators with silly hair, the fact that a mega church might actually have a paid staff member whose title is Minister of Sports and Recreation, a scout leader with comical grammar and questionable geography skills..it's an extensive list) there are certain people who deserve our compassion and not our derision. It was badly done. Forgive me.]*** There's no better place, incidentally, to observe the sorry state of American retail than Central Mall on a Tuesday morning.

One more quick vignette from the Golden Triangle. My dad and I took the kids to the playground behind my elementary school while my mom hosted a baby shower on Saturday. There was a cub scout troop under the pavilion earning a badge by learning to play marbles. The troop master had the boys stand on the faded United States of America map that was painted on the basketball court. Here's how it went:

Troopmaster: Okay! Everyone on the United States of America!
Cub Scout: Can I stand on Alaska?
(long pause)

Troopmaster: Sure! (not sounding entirely sure) That's one of the United States of America! Okay, how many of you never played marbles before? (all but two of the scouts raised their hands. Mr. Alaska kept his down. He has played marbles before.) Now SEE THERE?! THIS is what Cub Scouts is ALL ABOUT!! You could have went your whole life and not learned how to play marbles!! Now let's hand out the awards. Parents, don't be disappointed if your scout don't get first place. My own son come in last place!

At this point, Harper had lost interest so we drifted away before her grammar could be completely corrupted. Hm, You Can't Go Home Again would be a good title for a novel.

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

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

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

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

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

Have it your way

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

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

Giddy-up

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

my kid could draw that, part 2

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

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