Hudson's heart

A couple of years ago, Hudson got to choose something from the gift shop at the Natural Science museum. I can't remember what he'd done to earn this special treat. I believe his maximum price point was a whopping $3. He chose this:
A red, polished stone, cut into a heart. He loved it and carried it in his pocket at all times, thus requiring that he always have pockets, which I remember caused a couple of petulant moments when, inevitably, all of his cargo shorts were in the hamper. I remember fearing that he would lose his heart and of course, after a couple of months, he did. Harper never loses anything because she is one of those kids who knows where every single tidbit is at all times. I will say, "I wonder where the tiny piece of Lego that connects the scoop to the backhoe is?" and she will chirp, "It's in the bottom of the striped bin, under the 'pig' rhyming card, next to the headless Polly Pocket in the back of my closet." It's eerie, but rather useful. She did not, sadly, have sufficient sonar to detect the heart because it did not belong to her. So, it remained lost. At first, Hudson would ask about it daily, and sometimes hourly: "Mommy, where is my heart?" and I would say, "I just don't know Hudson. Can't you remember?" No, he could not. We hunted for weeks and finally gave up. After many months, he finally stopped asking if I knew where his heart was.

Then LO, to celebrate our country's independence, guess what I found while digging for something behind the cushion of the big, red chair? I found Hudson's heart. There was tremendous celebrating and, but for the burn ban, we would have exploded some fireworks. His heart is now living on a shelf in Daddy's study, where he visits it and occasionally, gets it down for a pat, then puts it right back. Because it seems he has learned a lesson about losing his heart.

Today Hudson was being a little sillier than I thought appropriate whilst hashing through some complex theological ideas while he composed a new (and LOUD) song on his drums. He sang something that sounded like, "God is not the holy." So I gently told him that he needed to change his lyrics, because there are certain things that we don't act silly about. He then claimed that "It was Mr. Potato Head who was telling him that God was NOT the holy. But I told him that he was WRONG and that God IS the holy!" So, now, along with his other many transgressions, Mr. Potato Head is a heretic.

We went to a neighborhood parade yesterday. It was, frankly, pretty lame (lots of cars draped in streamers carrying political candidates and members of clubs I've never heard of) but I'm the only one who thought so and I did manage to take the requisite photos capturing the curb-side anticipation:

Harper's favorite was the orange beetle bug:

Hudson liked these cool motorcycle guys:
And Helena liked the firetrucks ("fow-wow tucks"), but also declared they were "Noisy."

My own heart was gladdened indeed on Thursday when two dear friends from college came to visit with their families in tow:Stacie and Kim (and their lovely spouses) are the best sort of friend--where conversations begun 20 years ago pick right back up with each sweet reunion.

(I just spent several minutes trying to fix the freaky eyes, to no avail. We'll just conclude that we had such a great time our eyes were shining and shooting out sparks.)

Also noteworthy this weekend: the husband took Harper and Hudson to see their very first movie in a theatre. It probably deserves a post of its own because, as with most things that most people think are no big deal at all, I have (and this will be SHOCKING NEWS) complicated feelings about it. But they had a dandy time.

May the fort be with you

A few months ago, Hudson got a Star Wars Lego book from the library and so began what is, apparently, an inevitable obsession. We're still several years from viewing the movies (though I believe they watched a few minutes with the Daddy when he happened upon one on cable a few days ago. Harper ran and hid, because she is extremely wary of potentially Scary Images) but that has deterred him not at ALL. He asks me questions for which I have no answers, since I haven't seen most of the movies, and the ones I have seen were not very interesting to me when I saw them in the late 1970's. So he'll ask many, many specific questions about Who Are the Bad Guys and Who Has a Knife and What Planet and How Many Guns and How Tall is Chewbacca and I just shrug and say I don't really know but that when he gets older he can watch the movies and find out all for himself. He says he'll watch when he is "around 17" and I say that sounds fine. Here's how he pronounced the characters he knows about so far (until Harper corrected him, and not very kindly):
1. Everyone Kenobi
2. Dark Vader (was Dark Mater, which, incidentally, I think would make a great sub-plot in the next "Cars" installment. I call trademark.)
3. Lute Stywalter
4. And of course, they all use their Life Savers to fight.

Actual interchange that occurred yesterday:

(LOUD YELLING.)
me: Harper, do you remember what I said about yelling?
Harper: You said no screaming.

If law schools offered early acceptance to 6 year olds, I'd enroll her right now.

While she was yelling, but not screaming, Hudson was playing his drums and singing a charming little ditty he calls the "I Smell Poo-poo Song!"

Also on yesterday's Best Things List was the fact that we went to the Children's Museum and we ended up downstairs because the whole place was pretty crowded and noisy. The kids played with the Legos and did a few experiments with the wind tunnels then we went into this obstacle course area, which I generally avoid because there is a Power Tower that is only for kids 5 and older, which means disappointing 2/3rds of my kids. I was lifting Helena over into this little obstacle course area when I realized that what I thought was a closed gate was actually quite open and it proceeded to swing open with me on top of it and I lost my balance completely and ended up folded over in a downward dog sort of pose (still dangling poor Helena) with my feet lifted off the ground and apparently I am top heavy because once I managed to get Helena on her feet I still couldn't get myself back upright. A nice lady came to help me and I was mortified and also felt as if I had sustained, at the least, a liver laceration, and also possibly some sort of aortic tear and maybe an aneurysm. My left arm is still tingling a little. And my pride is damaged beyond all repair.

Then today we stayed home and I tried doing math with Harper in the morning instead of when the other two are napping, which is when we usually do our reading and school time. It went okay but not great. Helena played nicely with the counting bears for about 10 minutes, then she spread the transportation counters all over the floor, and got very intent on knocking down the counting blocks Harper was using for her lesson.

Then Harper and Hudson built a fort and Harper used this pink embroidery thread to create a spider web for "trapping naughty Helena Janes":Which, incidentally, might make a slightly less heartwarming sequel to Charlotte's Web.

Then, while I made dinner, Harper practiced skating in the kitchen WHILE playing a never-ending loop of "The Ants Go Marching" on her kazoo, WHILE ALSO keeping time by banging a hammer on a metal coffee can, while Hudson drummed and then did a little soft shoe and then practiced dribbling his basketball then played a twangy little something on the one string left on his guitar:


Enormous thanks to the Grandparents Pate who spent the weekend braving this madness so the husband and I could go to a wedding in Dallas. The homecoming is always sweet. So very, very loud, but sweet all the same.

What's your point? Wednesday

I skipped last week. We took a short trip to Port Neches and I didn't take my computer because I decided a little technology hiatus might do me good. And aside from an annoyingly full email inbox when I got home, I see no drawbacks. I finished my book, I went to bed at a fairly respectable hour, and I rode the old bike. I did watch about one too many episodes of "House Hunters International" but a girl can only surrender so much at once.

It is raining here in Houston today. Which is really good news for the poor, parched earth, but really scary news for me, because the last rain 6 weeks or so ago seemed to be some sort of Special Roach Invitation to Come On Inside. There are many things about roaches I don't understand: where do they GO during the day? where do they go when I don't see them for weeks on end? why do they come inside when it rains even though there is a DROUGHT and they have to be thirsty? why do those enormous ones have The Gift of Flight when humans do not?

Speaking of entomology, Harper and Hudson have also of late decided they are very interested in the confusingly similar ETymology. "Mommy, why are cars called cars? Mommy, why are chairs called chairs? Mommy, why are croissants called croissants? Mommy, why is water called water? Mommy why are bugs called bugs? Mommy why is cereal called cereal?" It is never-ending. If I happen to know the etymology, I'll tell them, but usually I don't, so I just say, in as bright a voice as I can manage, "I don't know! Someday you can study that and FIND OUT!"

Hudson has become quite a theologian. This morning in the car he asked, "What is a miracle?" So I said it was something that happens even though we think it is impossible. I told him that Jesus performed many miracles. I gave a few examples. He thought for a moment then said, "God is invisible." Yes, I said. "And he lives forever." That is correct, I affirmed. "But we can SEE the things he DOES." Correct. "And Jesus could walk through walls." Yes, that was a miracle, I said. "He can also walk on water. I think Jesus was...nice." I assured him that indeed Jesus was the nicest man who ever lived. Then he said, "Look! An armored truck! The driver has a gun." A few days ago we had a big conversation about WHY armored truck drivers need guns and I told them it's because some people are too lazy to work for money and instead decide to steal it, and that they are sometimes willing to hurt people to get what they want. We then had a really good conversation about how bad guys can also, on occasion, make good choices, and that, conversely, good guys, on occasion, can make bad choices. Except Jesus. All good choices. Hudson, it should be noted, took all of his nice catechism answers and acted like a character in Lord of the Flies (and not Ralph or Piggy) for the next two hours at the museum with our friends. So.

Harper, meanwhile, is learning to skate, and is also learning to blame everyone and everything except herself whenever she commits any transgression at all. It is sadly familiar. But the skating is great. Unless she falls, then she blames it on someone or something else. She fell this morning and blamed it on the dog hair on the kitchen floor that I had neglected to mop.

Harper and Hudson have been getting along really well these days. I look back at old blog posts and realize I need to be thankful. Now, if they could manage to include Helena in their goodwill, I would have nothing else to vex me. Except the Smell in our house right now. And presidential politics. And this whole sunblock debate. And lower case letters and how Harper can't be bothered to write them correctly. And potty training. And the fact that we eat the same things over and over. And, and, and.

The dog no longer JUST sleeps on the bed with us. She burrows UNDER the covers and either drapes herself on whomever is willing (hint: it is NOT me) or she curls into a tight ball right between us, not caring one bit if she is smashed. I have decided she will not be completely content until we either INGEST her or perhaps make her into one of those fox stoles that the ladies used to wear draped around their necks.

We had great cousin time this weekend. My oldest niece turned 8 and she is becoming such a gracious and kind young lady. She savored the opening of each gift, and was visibly delighted and grateful with every one, large and small. She even read the cards!! The kids were given free reign of Aunt Cynthia's tomato garden and they ate and ate and ate, including Helena, who discovered quickly that green tomatoes are not grapes, as she had suspected.

Grandfather Pate + a good book + some fingers and a thumb = pure contentment:


That will be all.

swimmingly

I don't know if it is the new haircut (thanks again to Daddy) or the milk mustache, but Hudson is doing great in our two-week, every day swim lessons. It's his first lesson of any kind so I wasn't sure how it was going to go. He loves his teacher, Mister Charley (or Mistuh Chah-yee, in Hudson-speak) and he is surprisingly bold in the floating on the back, which this particular swim school teaches as its primary swimming skill for little kids. He was a little emotional on the second and third days, mainly, I think, because he is a homebody and he realized that we were really going to have to leave home every single morning for 2 entire weeks. But since then he's come marching out after each class, proclaiming, "I floated on my back AGAIN (which he rhymes with 'the train')!" and he has! All by himself! It made me a little misty watching him do it the first time. And a little panicky, if we're honest. It's a tricky thing to trust your kids with strangers.

Harper is doing well too, and it reminded me of a good comment Davene left a while back about waiting to start Suzuki violin instruction with her eldest son. It turns out that in some cases, waiting until kids are more generally mature, means the skills-acquisition is much smoother and quicker. Less screeching on the violin, less flailing in the water. Though I do think that if we hadn't done it with Harper this summer, she was going to get pretty fearful in the water. Look at these pictures she drew today. I think the bird is rather astonishing:
and of course, an underwater scene:

That picture of Hudson in his too-tight pajamas reminded me that a couple of weeks ago, when the husband was getting Hudson ready for bed, he brought in some pj's and insisted it was time they be retired. They wouldn't go over his head AND they were pants that hit right at his knees. Know why? Size 18 MONTHS, that's why. He's almost 4 1/2. I dislike buying pj's because they aren't cheap AND they are kind of garish (unless you spend even more money because there is a paradox of children's fashion that plain=pricey) and they are for sleeping, which means it really matters not one single IOTA what they look like or how they fit.

Helena is at a very exhausting age, as I think I've mentioned. And mentioned. She is also becoming very chatty, mostly posing the same questions ad infinitum. "Where's Hoppuh? Where's Hudson? Where's Sasha? Where's Daddy? Where's Laida Jane's stingray? Where's Laida Jane's cup? Whaddat? Whaddat? Whaddat? More musack? More musack PEASE?" I'm trying to teach her the "one time only" principle but it's not really happening. I also try to ignore and, therefore extinguish, but that always feels a little rude to me. So, my ears on ON FIRE and my nerves slightly frayed. And also my floors in need of mopping. Bathtub in need of scrubbing. Dinner in need of cooking. The end.

What's your point? Wednesday (on Thursday)

The husband confesses that Harper's birth 6 years ago unleashed in him a germophobia that had, until then, been pleasantly latent. He started buying Purell by the gallon and invested in this hand-held steam cleaner that became, for awhile, an extension of his arm. If I remember correctly, I believe he might have even steam cleaned ME on more than one occasion. I can't pinpoint an exact moment that his germ paranoia began to lessen somewhat, but the steamer has been gathering dust for probably 3 years now, and, even though he still carries Purell with him at all times, he doesn't douse the kids in it quite as frequently as he used to. One prohibition that could be carved into the family decalogue (we don't actually have one, but it's kind of an intriguing idea) is this: THOU SHALT NOT DRINK FROM WATER FOUNTAINS EVER. We don't ever break this one. It's annoying to always have to remember to bring water everywhere we go, and yes, I do on occasion forget, and the kids stay thirsty until we get home or I will (rarely) buy a bottle of water if it is particularly hot. And yes, the kids do look longingly at other kids whose parents let them partake (the one inside the lion's head at the zoo is a particularly coveted experience, I imagine). I know it's a combination of factors, and I hesitate to even write this because I realize that if I do, they will all wake up tomorrow vomiting in unison, but they've been CRAZY healthy thus far. Between all three of them, we have had a single sick visit to the pediatrician (Hudson, when he was around 2 and I thought he might have the flu. He did not.) The flip side is that one of the kids is a mite more concerned than she probably ought to be with hand washing, and, one day when she made the choice to bring a small stuffed animal to the park (with the reminder that this choice meant sharing) she had to share with a little boy who, adorable though he was, seemed a little gritty and runny-nosy. Handing him over caused a look of actual pain on her face, and when she got him back she held him between two fingers like he was Infested. Then, as soon as we got home, she took him directly to the hamper. If she knew about autoclaves, I feel certain she'd have asked for one for her birthday. She has not, incidentally, asked to bring any stuffed animals to the park since then. And yes, I do know all about the studies showing kids who live on farms and who, as they play and work, eat lots of dirt laced with fecal matter etc. and therefore have heartier immune systems. That would be my underlying reason for playing at public parks. It's as close as we can get to replicating Farm Reality here in the big city. Hopefully minus the fecal matter, but possibly not. The husband is no doubt reading this and planning to unearth the steam cleaner when he gets home.

Well, I wrote that paragraph around 6 weeks ago and never posted it, and since then, we've had two bouts with stuffy noses. But not from drinking in water fountains.

There's been lots of dressing up at our house lately. Batman and his pet giraffe came over for tea:


Even Helena has decided to join in. She is very big on layering:

Harper did not like this at ALL, even though it's been at least a year since she's even taken any notice of it:
I think it is a truth universally acknowledged that stuffed pumpkin costumes, if they can't be with the one they love, will love the one they're with. Fickle gourds.

We went to the beach

I tried to think of a snappy title, but all I could come up with was "Beachy Keen" and I just could not do that. We somehow managed to go all last summer without a single trip to the beach, and I am determined not to repeat that this year. We went Saturday, planning to go marvel at the sand sculpture competition, but got there and realized most of Houston and Galveston and possibly parts of southwest Louisiana had the same idea, so we just found a spot on the seawall in the opposite direction and let the kids splash and dig and boogie board for a few hours. Also, being the good little vegan that she is, Helena enjoyed some fresh seaweed:

Harper went out pretty far and rode the boogie board in on some gigantic swells measuring about 1 foot high. We started swimming lessons yesterday which I'm hopeful will make that very uncomfortable-looking life jacket non-essential on our next trip.

I remembered the days when Hudson was so afraid of water and, in particular, the kind that came at him in unstoppable waves. That tiny, timid (but oh, so CUTE) fellow is long gone:

His tough guy face showed up again today at the little playground at the swimming place. There were two other four year old boys and they were staking claim to one of the slides or something, and Harper got offended and instead of handling it herself, she said to Hudson, who was standing nearby, "Hudson, GET THEM!" and the most extraordinary thing happened. The brother literally SNAPPED to attention, his face did this wincing squinting blinking thing that was either menacing or terrified (or, perhaps, an equal measure of both) and he struck this Intimidating Pose with his hands in some sort of karate pose. I wanted to laugh AND cry because it was so sweet and disturbing. Thankfully, the boys decided to relinquish the slide and Hudson didn't have to actually DO anything.

Helena was just singing along with "Old McDonald" and the lyrics she came up with were, "Old Banana have a farm, E-U-Grover-Oh!" So close.

What's your point? Wednesday

I was sitting in a chair reading at my parents' house last week, and Hudson came over and gently placed his hand on my shin to ask a question. He jerked his hand away and exclaimed, "WHAT are those...SPIKES??" I explained that the SPIKES were really just tiny hairs that I had not tended to properly because I had not been able to procure the correct depilatory device in the shower that morning. He then went and got his special blanket and rubbed it tenderly up and down my leg while asking approximately 237 more questions, most of them regarding whether or not it hurts Very Much to have SPIKES growing on one's legs. Dear Hudson's wife (in 30 years because he is going to live with me until then): I have set the standard VERY high in MANY ways, but rest assured that if you miss a day of shaving your legs, it will be okay. You are welcome.

Helena likes to boss the dog around and her favorite thing to say is, "OBEY MOMMY, SASHA!" She started saying "button" instead of "bubbin" this week and that makes me a little sad.

We went to the zoo today and Harper took her new octopus Coconut and introduced him to the real octopus (who she has named Octavius, but she calls him "Cookie" for short) and the three of them had a great time. At one point she called me over to show me that Octavius/Cookie was doing tricks for them, and you know, he really did look as though he was trying to balance on one tentacle while waving the other seven about rather wildly.

We are getting a new refrigerator tomorrow and the kids are going to be able to get their own water right out of the door and I think this is going to change my life in a small but significant manner. Harper can't wait to act out the book Christina Katerina and the Box with herself in the title role and Hudson as Fats Watson.When I got home from Bible study tonight, the husband had cleaned under and behind and on top of the old refrigerator so that I would not have to deal with the filth of tenants past (and our own) when the Sears delivery man gets here tomorrow. That's love, I tell you.

I realized today that ever since Sasha calmed down and stopped being so nervous about life in general, she has begun to sleep about 23 hours a day. She curls into a small ball on top of a couch cushion and she dozes ALL DAY. I guess when their need to fend for food is removed, all they have left to do with themselves to is figure out how to please their people, and she has ascertained that I am pleased when she is curled into a ball on top of the couch cushion, and therefore not bothering me. Am I causing her to atrophy is some way? Perhaps.

Helena resting on Athanasius, who turned into a stuffed dog, apparently due to excessive inactivity: