multi-cultured

I have several posts in my head right now. This is one that requires the least introspection. We've read some good books lately that I like because they are "multicultural" without getting out any sledgehammers. Here's a list:

1. Jamela's Dress by Niki Daly. Jamela is a little girl in South Africa who gets carried away while playing with some beautiful new fabric her mom has bought to make a special wedding dress.

2. The Friday Nights of Nana by Amy Hest, ill. by Claire A. Nivola. Jennie and her grandmother spend a delightful day together preparing for a Sabbath meal.

3. The Journey by Sarah Stewart, ill. David Small. A young Amish girl writes in her diary about her first trip to the city. This one makes me cry every time--the author beautifully juxtaposes Hannah's simple life on the farm with all of the new experiences she is having: "Then we walked into a great cathedral, and the voices of the practicing choir almost lifted me off my feet. When we've finished singing on Sundays, and the music is still hanging in the air during prayers, sometimes I feel as if I'm going to fly!" Isn't that lovely??

4. Just Plain Fancy by Patricia Polacco. Another Amish tale, this one about a girl who longs for something fancy, and is surprised and dismayed when an egg she finds hatches into a peacock. I skip a page that talks about the adults gossiping about a woman who was shunned for being too fancy. Because gossip and shunning are two concepts I'm not ready to introduce. Yes, I continue to edit the books I read to my children. Yes, you can call Ray Bradbury if you need to. He is still alive, I just looked on wiki.

5. Thy Friend Obadiah by Brinton Turkle. Obadiah wishes the seagull who follows him all over Nantucket island would go away. Then he changes his mind. Beautiful illustrations.

6. Elizabeti's Doll by Stephanie Stuve-Bodeen, ill. Christy Hale. I love this book. Elizabeti is a little Tanzanian girl who has a new baby brother and a rock she names Eva, which she lovingly tends to as her mother tends to the new baby. She is like a Tanzanian Laura Ingalls with a rock in lieu of a corncob.

We invited ourselves to the Scholastic book fair at the little private school across from the park on Monday. The selections wasn't great, but we've enjoyed the few we ended up with:

7. Pig's Egg by Katherine Sully, ill. Sam Chaffey. Pig is the only one of his friends who can't fly or lay an egg, then, to his delight, he discovers an "egg" in his sty! It's really a turnip with a caterpillar inside. Very adorable animal illustrations.

8. Katie Loves the Kittens by John Himmelman. Katie is a dog who can't restrain her joy when some new kittens arrive at her house. The problem is, her unfettered enthusiasm manifests in a loud howl which scares the kitties. I think we so enjoy this one because Katie is rather like a certain dog who lives in our house.

9. Ready for Anything by Keiko Kasza. Raccoon, who is Mr. Worst-Case-Scenario, can't possibly join Duck on a picnic because of all the horrible things that just might happen (killer bee attack, a dragon in a cave..). Duck finally convinces Raccoon that the "what-ifs" don't have to be so dire. The Raccoon may or may not be loosely based on a certain Daddy who lives in our house.

10. What Sisters Do Best/What Brothers Do Best by Laura Numeroff, ill. Lynn Munsinger. Two books in one. Not much substance, but sweet all the same.

11. Lonesome George Finds His Friends by Tori Kosara. (non-fiction) George is a Galapagos tortoise who introduces us to a few of the many animals found in the Galapagos islands.


Well, then. It is cold here again and raining, so maybe there is more blogging in my near future. Not right now, though. Harper found this felt octopus in a craft book (FIE on you, craft book!!) that she wants to try to make before we head to ballet this afternoon. I'll be sure an post a picture of the final product.

The littlest lass is two today

Helena Jane. You are our delight. I looked back at pictures from last year and am amazed at the changes in you. You got a mouthful of teeth this year! And a full head of curly, curly hair! You run and talk and slide and play! You EAT lots and lots and lots. You finally hit 20 pounds and we turned your car seat forward-facing a few weeks ago. You slowly weaned from breastfeeding and stopped completely about a month ago when you decided that books before bed were a much better use of our time. Some things haven't changed, for which I am grateful. You continue to be a tremendous sleeper. You still request your sleepsack (sleezak), even though it's too short and you can unzip it and take it off. Most mornings when I go in to get you, you have it slung behind you like a cape while you play with your two bed friends, Puppy and Baby. You still have such a sunny disposition. You rarely cry, though you have decided that the sound of a leaf blower (even at a distance) requires a Time of Weeping followed by a Time of Prolonged Consolation.

You got 31 birthday presents: the 30 balloons that I blew up last night and tossed on the floor of your room this morning, and a stuffed ladybug from the Grandparents Pate that shines constellations onto the ceiling when it's dark. You really love balloons (boos, you call them) and balls and babies (especially my old dolls, Mandy and Jenny). A favorite new activity is Baby Eat:


You love to take walks (tegga wok? you inquire upon awakening) and baths:
This was a special birthday bath--you usually take one by yourself while the other two finish dinner. You will never be satisfied with that again after this rollicking good time. You adore Harper and Hudson, though your technique for getting them to notice you needs a little polishing. Presently, you seem to think that grabbing whatever they are playing with and running away with it clenched in your tight little fist while squealing with glee is great fun. They do NOT concur.

You enjoy all of our friends and especially relish the nurturing attentions you receive from June and Izzy.

You like an outing of any kind, but I think you might prefer the park lately, because you love to slide. On your tummy:


You have just started to talk and put sentences together in the last couple of months. You like narrating Harper's every move, much to her dismay: "AH-Poo has HAT! AH-Poo EAT! AH-Poo go OUTSIDE! AH-Poo SHOES!" You pronounce your name "Yah-yah" or "Yeh-yah", Hudson is "Uh-seh." It is an absolute requirement that you receive kisses (sisses) from all members of the family, including Sasha, before you go to bed. You like to say, "NO NO Sasha!" and "Good girl Sasha!" and Sasha likes to chase you and make you giggle like crazy.

I don't even know what your favorite foods are because you eat everything with equal joy. I thought maybe you had developed some ambivalence toward broccoli, but tonight at dinner, you discovered it on your pizza and said, "num, num, num BROCKI!" like it was a special, special treat.
No birthday cake this year, but you were a big fan of the oatmeal muffins at breakfast. Hudson helped you blow out the two candles. "Hot!" you exclaimed, with a little reproach in your tiny voice. Then we sang and you said, "Ah-boo BUD-EYE" to yourself all day long. You do like to sing and your go-to melody is always the "ABC/Bah Bah Black Sheep/Twinkle Twinkle Little Star" tune.

Well, it was supposed to snow today and I was going to count that as your 32nd present. Alas, there is no snow. But I hope you know how much we do celebrate your coming, little one. You make everything brighter.

The boy is four today

We call him Hudson Bear, Buddy, Hudson John, Brother Bear, and Little Man. Harper calls him Huts, or Bud, or,when she's feeling not so kindly, "Noe-nee Boy".Helena calls him "Uh-seh." He introduces himself, much to my amusement, as "Hudson Bear Grylls". As in Bear Grylls, survival specialist and star of the Discovery Channel show "Man vs. Wild". This is definitely his chosen persona these days, and generally requires lots of gear, sunglasses, and a manly scowl:



This year has completely erased the baby and replaced him with a boy. This would make me exceedingly melancholy, except for almost daily moments that look a little something like this:
I realized today that somewhere between 3 and 4 is when you stop holding children nearly as much. They get themselves in and out of bed, they walk and run of their own volition. Hudson snuggles very close next to me for stories and sometimes I carry him to bed (he prefers "upside down"), but unless he is hurt or sad about something, I go without holding him for days on end.

He weighs 30 pounds according to the scale at the Children's Museum.

He has very few opinions about his clothes, though he prefers pockets in his pants so he can carry sticks, and when it's cold he requests his "fleecy pants" with elastic waistbands, not caring one bit if they are a size 2T pair that could really be more accurately called "fleecy capris".

His favorite food is probably an Amy's veggie pocket, which he requests about 5 times a week, and actually eats about twice a month. He also loves black beans, rice and tortillas when we eat out. He's a good eater, but not an especially hearty one, which explains the 30 pounds.

He likes all of his friends, but has especially enjoys playing with Marcos, who is the brother of a girl in Harper's ballet class. It's the only time in his life when he's gotten the chance to nurture a friendship without Harper around. They tackle and play superheroes mostly. And there was one especially hilarious day when the two of them chatted up a couple of 12 year old girls on the playground. The boys hung on top of this web device and regaled the big girls with exciting information, including Hudson saying, at one point, "You know, sometimes our bodies just DO that." Note to self: Before he becomes a teenager, gently encourage him to keep the flatulence observations to himself.

His most beloved playmate is still Harper, though. This year has brought tremendous improvements in their relationship. They have more moments of genuine enjoyment, and fewer moments of Harper treating him like a disease. That has been sweet for me. They play out in the backyard for hours--exploring, swinging, see-sawing. Inside, they do some dressing up:
This picture made me giggle--it looks like Edmund Pevensie about to fall under the spell of a young White Witch. Run away from the Turkish delight, Edmund!!

He also really enjoys playing by himself. He most often gets a dozen or so little cars and drives them around on the coffee table. They talk to each other in high pitched voices, sometimes in An Unkind Manner.

He still takes a 2-3 hour nap every afternoon. I know he's awake when I hear his stuffed animals talking to each other. Also in high pitched voices, occasionally in An Unkind Manner, but usually not.

He has just about outgrown his bike. We take lots of bike rides in the afternoons, waiting for Daddy to get home, and he is fast and sure, and stops at intersections without being reminded:

His speech has gotten much clearer this year, but there are still a few words he doesn't get quite right:

1. Yightning Between and his friend Nader, from the movie "Cars".
2. Buhstruction men who work so hard to buhstruct buildings and houses.
3. Puts his dirty clothes in the pamper before running to get in the bathtub.
4. A favorite book this month has been A Pocketful of Cricket, or "A Pottet Full of Trittet".

He works hard to enunciate his L's and R's and K's. He was trying to say the name Luke the other day and his face and mouth looked like Silly Putty, and there was a fair amount of saliva expelled.

I think the big revelation this year has been the drumming. It comes as no real surprise, considering the Daddy is an excellent drummer, and Hudson wants to be exactly like the Daddy. [And here is where I wanted to post a video of the drummer boy but after three hours it has still not downloaded. Perhaps I'll try again tomorrow.]

I love him so much it aches. What joy to have a son.

Backyard Bible Club

Harper was relaxing in the hammock while the other two napped today. I was sitting on the couch reading and watching her through the window. She began to gesture madly, yelling, "Mommy COME HERE! There is SOMETHING!" So I rush out to see the Something, and I see Sasha under the hammock eating the Something, which, it turns out, is her own vomit. "There was NOTHING THERE and then there WAS SOMETHING and now Sasha is EATING IT MOMMY!!" "Yes", I said, "she has thrown up and she is now eating it. It is disgusting, and it is what dogs tend to do." It was a very teachable moment but I was feeling a little too queasy to intone the Proverbs, so I came back inside.

Tomorrow is Hudson's last day as a three year old. How is that even possible?

kings, rooks, pawns, Jesus

The husband has been teaching Harper to play chess. She, in turn, has been teaching Hudson to play "chess". She was showing him how to set up the board:

Harper: Okay, this is the good king, and this is the knight, and this is the bad king and..

Hudson: Where is Jesus?

Where is Jesus, indeed. Come to think of it, has anyone ever come up with a Christian chess set? Seems like that might work nicely, what with all the emperors and shepherds and wise men and sword-wielding disciples. And I'll bet you it would sell like gangbusters at the Christian bookstore. They could put it right between those prints of George Washington bowing down before the cross and the Test-a-mints.

I consider it one of my great failings as a mother (so far) that I do things for my children instead of taking the time to teach them to do for themselves. I'm trying to work on it but it gets to the heart of the Great Tension Within Me, which is that I am the rather lethal combination of A Lazy Perfectionist. It's like there are two voices going in my head at any given moment, one of them sneering, "Is THAT the BEST you can do??" and the other (this voice is a kindly, old British woman for some reason) saying, "Well, then, best go take a wee nap." It's exhausting, as you can imagine. Even after I take my nap.

I am reading two books at the same time and they couldn't be more different, yet I'm enjoying both of them (hm, another example of my split personality?). One is a fairly new biography of Deitrich Bonhoeffer by Eric Metaxas, titled (and subtitled, and subtitled again) Bonhoeffer: Pastor, Martyr, Prophet, Spy: A Righteous Gentile vs. The Third Reich
. It is currently 4 days overdue and I should, therefore, turn it in tomorrow, which means I need to read approximately 400 pages before I go to bed tonight. Hm. Perhaps I will break my rule of No More Buying Books Because When We Move The Books Become An Albatross About My Neck. As an aside, there are many, many things about grand fancy houses that do not appeal to me one bit, but the thought of having my very own library in my very own house from which I will never have to move seems heavenly. And I do not use that word lightly. Anyway, the other book is Lit: A Memoir by Mary Karr, who is particularly interesting to me because she graduated from my high school 15 years before I did. Our dads both worked at an oil refinery, but that seems to be the extent of our common experience. Lit is her memoir of her journey through alcoholism, and it's a compelling story, compellingly told. Sad, but ultimately she finds her way out. Out of Port Neches AND out of alcohol. And into the Catholic church, apparently, but I'm not quite there yet.

My sweet Aunt Sue died a week ago today. She was my mom's big sister and she called me "Pooh" even after I grew up. She made extraordinarily good turkey and cornbread dressing. She loved her family well. She told good stories and loved to laugh. As I pondered my lingering sadness this morning before communion, I realized anew that the deaths of those we love is so agonizing not just because we miss them, but because we simply were not made to die. We were made for eternity and communion. Not for death and separation. C.S. Lewis writes that fish do not complain of the sea for being wet. We have the curse (the gift?) to recognize we are strangers here (in reverent fear). The sea is wet, and we are cold and weary with the swim.

So. I'm off to Bonhoeffer. True fellowship, true community, radical theology and oh, by the way, we need to kill Hitler. The sea is WET.

Dare you to move

The husband has been leaving his old ipod in the car which gives us a delightfully eclectic music selection. There are two Switchfoot songs and the kids really like them, probably because they are So Rockin' compared to what we usually listen to. It cracks me up to hear Hudson singing an octave up when it gets too low ("we want more than the wars of our fathers, and EVERYTHING INSI-I-DE, SCREAMS FOR SECOND LIFE! We were meant to live for SO much MO-ORE!!)and Harper, on our way to Target this morning was having her little bean bag spider sing, and it was at a range and decibel level where only dolphins are comfortable, so I finally had to turn down "Dare You to Move" and tell Spidery that, while I truly enjoyed his performance, it was starting to pierce my eardrums and could he maybe PLEASE turn it down a little. All of Harper's stuffed animals have super creative names like Spidery and Stingray-ee, and Beary. She has several rocks named Rocky. All the dogs are named Sasha. And there is Object the Snail, Twinkle the Star, and Car the Pumpkin.

Coming out of Target I saw a large fellow in an even larger t-shirt with this emblazoned on it:

MY WALLET IS LIKE MY [word that means female dog]...THICK!!

Now, this fellow was walking with a lady friend. They were both scowling. Which is shocking, I realize. Although, come to think of it, why was he scowling? Because a trip to Target should be fun if one has a thick wallet. Well, I'll be. I just looked up 'thick' in an online slang dictionary and guess what it means?? It means 'attractive'!!! How about that? Well, then, neither of them should have been scowling. Here I've been judging. These kids today and their effusive, enigmatic double entendre t-shirt praise. Here's to a long and loving future for those two.

I've begun to look for houses. We may or may not be thinking about moving when our lease here is up in July. So it is way too early to start looking, of course. But I can't seem to help myself.

Wanted: an old but renovated house with mature trees and a yard and no roaches that is not in the suburbs and is very cheap.

I've been watching lots of HGTV after everyone is in bed and I have learned that I will have to make compromises because this is an impossible wish list for Houston. So it looks like I may have to shift my expectations a little.

Wanted: Cheap, no roaches.

In the words of Switchfoot, "We want more than this world's got to offer. We want more than this world's got to offer." Oh, maybe that's not really what the song means. Maybe I'm too thick to understand their lyrics. And by thick I mean, of course, really attractive.

Ten books we've lately loved

1. The Poodle Who Barked at the Wind by Charlotte Zolotow, ill. June Otari
2. The Seashore Book by Charlotte Zolotow, ill. Wendell Minor
3. The Sleepy Book by Charlotte Zolotow, ill.Stefano Vitale
4. The Quiet Mother and the Noisy Little Boy by Charlotte Zolotow, ill. Marc Simont
5. Mr. Rabbit and the Lovely Present by Charlotte Zolotow, ill. Maurice Sendak
6. I Like to be Little by Charlotte Zolotow, ill. Eric Blegvad

So, thanks to Zoe, we discovered Charlotte Zolotow. And I love her, especially I Like to be Little, because it reminds me of my childhood aspiration to never grow up, and The Quiet Mother and the Noisy Little Boy, because it reminds me that, even though my life is often quite noisy, I'm glad I did, finally, grow up.

7. Hugless Douglas by David Melling (A young bear wakes from hibernation in desperate need of a hug. I had never heard of this author but hope to read more of him.)

8. The Tub People by Pam Conrad, ill. Richard Egielski (I love books that pretend toys come to life when we aren't looking. We also loved The Rooster's Gift by Pam Conrad, about a rooster who is convinced he is responsible for causing the sun to rise, but who realizes that he is simply heralding the inevitable. Also recommended by Zoe.)

9. On Market Street by Anita and Arnold Lobel (These illustrations are splendid in this ingenious ABC book, and the kids were especially delighted by the cameo appearance of Lobel's Frog and Toad on the Toys page.

10. The Three Little Wolves and the Big Bad Pig by Eugene Trivizas, ill. Helen Oxenbury (the point-of-view shift is amusing, as is the fact that the Pig is finally transformed by a beautiful house of wildflowers that fills his nose with a lovely scent as he prepares to huff and puff.)

I mentioned in the last post that Harper and I have been reading the Little House series during our reading time. We have just started Farmer Boy, which is the third book. It's such a different experience reading these books as an adult. I am totally over-identifying with Caroline, and have cried several times while reading aloud, much to Harper's bafflement. I just can't imagine how hard it must have been for her. These have been the tear-inducers thus far:

--When Pa has to jump in the swollen river to save the wagon and she has to grab the reins with her husband and their horses about to drown and Laura and Mary and baby Carrie in the back of the wagon (with NO CARSEATS!!!)
--When she leaves her extended family behind in the Big Woods, travels across the country, and knows that she likely won't have any communication with them for a very long, long time.
--When the (possibly savage) Indians come in while Pa is away and she cooks cornbread for them.
--When Pa decides, WITHOUT CONSULTING HER, to leave the house on the prairie that they have labored over for an entire year, just as they have planted their crops...

And I didn't cry over this part, but I certainly felt mighty convicted:

--When she washes their clothes AND IRONS THEM while they are traveling from Wisconsin to Kansas (far, it is very far, we looked at the map) in a covered wagon. AND she cooks. AND bakes. AND washes dishes. For weeks and weeks and weeks. Every single meal. Over a camp fire. And, meanwhile, I whine about unloading the dishwasher. Sheesh.