Lost.

Harper lost her first tooth on Sunday. It's the lower right, which you should be able to see through the enormous gap in her two top teeth. There was a little drama (the tooth wasn't particularly loose until she inexplicably bit Hudson's shirt tail--I'm told there was a very appropriate reason for this as a part of whatever imaginary world they were residing in at the moment) and I was called home from a shopping trip. Harper had recovered by the time I got home, the Daddy extracted the tooth, and Harper insisted with some urgency that I get right on finishing the Tooth Fairy pillow we had started a few weeks ago when one of her top teeth began to show signs of loosening.
Again, hand-sewn because I'm still not convinced I would use a sewing machine if I had one. The stitches on the pillow would make my home economics teacher from 9th grade weep. And not in a good way. Suffice it to say that my sampler would have won me nary a suitor if I had lived 150 years ago. The tooth fairy left behind a dollar coin in the heart-festooned pocket, and the tooth fairy now has a very tiny tooth residing in a ziploc bag which is stuffed in the side pocket of a tote bag next to her desk.

Today we got in the car to go meet the S's at the park and the song on Christian radio was about a guy smelling like a week-old hangover. So I switched to NPR and Diane Rehm was talking about Komen and Planned Parenthood. So I switched to the classic rock station and there was Billy Joel singing "Piano Man." So, the choice was alcoholism, abortion, or alcoholism. I went with the Billy Joel, believe it or not. Then on the highway alert signs was a message about a child kidnapped in Fort Worth. And this line from a poem went through my head: The world is too much with us; late and soon..and that was all I could remember. So I came home and looked it up. It's Wordsworth:

THE world is too much with us; late and soon,
Getting and spending, we lay waste our powers:
Little we see in Nature that is ours;
We have given our hearts away, a sordid boon!
The Sea that bares her bosom to the moon;
The winds that will be howling at all hours,
And are up-gathered now like sleeping flowers;
For this, for everything, we are out of tune;
It moves us not.--Great God! I'd rather be
A Pagan suckled in a creed outworn; 10
So might I, standing on this pleasant lea,
Have glimpses that would make me less forlorn;
Have sight of Proteus rising from the sea;
Or hear old Triton blow his wreathed horn.
1806.

For this, for everything, we are out of tune--isn't that something? And even when we are in tune (because the Piano Man has, as I've mentioned before, some lovely melodies) it's sad and it's sweet and we know it complete. And the microphone smells like a beer. Don't forget that detail.

The big kids, while I've been writing this post, have been out in the back yard exacting revenge on a flock of birds that are roosting in our tallow tree and pooping all over our deck and sandbox. And also Harper's jacket. They are fashioning "mud nuggets" which they are then tossing skyward. Of course the birds are not remotely bothered. So, now the deck is covered in copious amounts of liquidy dark purple bird poo and also mud nuggets. AND the piano it sounds like a carnival, and the microphone smells like a beer..

The golden one

Helena is three today on the 3rd, which apparently makes this her "golden birthday." We had blueberry cake for breakfast, because that is one of the two presents she asked for (even though we've never had blueberry cake before--I think she thought it sounded like a happy combination. And it is!) Of course, when I went to take some pictures, my memory card was full. I took a few yesterday, on her last day of two:

I plan to interview her later today at some point. Maybe I'll jot down a few things now, just in case it never happens. She got on my scale this morning and weighs 29 pounds. I don't know how tall she is, but people often comment that she seems tall. She learned this week to really pedal and steer the tricycle all by herself. Is this late? Early? Right on time? I haven't looked at one of those developmental milestones charts in a long time because I think it's kind of pointless. I noticed at church last Sunday that she's alternating feet on the stairs, going up and down. That's new. She's not much of a talker, but when she does, it comes out in sentences more and more. I think my favorite thing she says is "WHAT in the WHEELED?" instead of What in the WORLD. She loves playing dress up, but always wants the costume on top of her regular clothes. She calls head bands "head lamps." She loves to "do ballet" (which she pronounces "buw-WAY"):She is still a terrific sleeper--at least 12 hours at night and a 2-3 hour nap. She puts her index and middle fingers of her right hand in her mouth. She sleeps with around 20 stuffed animals and dolls in her crib. Still in the crib, still hasn't tried to climb out. She has a little brown birthmark on the right side of her torso which she calls her "spot." She enjoys having it tickled by the Daddy, just after her bath. She loves stories. Some favorites right now are Brown Bear, Brown Bear, What Do you See?, Harry, the Dirty Dog, Good Night, Texas, and Hug. She likes playing with dolls, big and small (she requested a Polly Pocket as her other birthday present. "Blueberry cake and a Polly." she said, firmly, when asked about her birthday wishes.) and swinging very high and changing her shoes a dozen times a day. She likes listening to our memory work cd and gets super excited, every single time, when the lady recites, "Helena, Montana!"

She loves her Daddy, her grandparents, her siblings, her dog, her friends--sometimes in that order, sometimes not. We all love her back. We are infinitely glad she joined us.

Interview with a five year old Hudson: The spy who loved me

For his birthday, Hudson chose to go on a camping trip with just the Daddy. I'm told they had a terrific time mastering the new slingshot with pine cones for ammo:
They also hiked and climbed and built a large fire and slept in a tent. Which, according to the husband, would have been much more pleasant had the temperature not dipped down to 30 degrees in the night (which is especially funny considering it is almost 90 degrees outside today). In spite of the cold, I'm pretty sure they both enjoyed themselves enormously.

On with the interview:

1. Hudson, at what age does a person become a grown up? "68." Why do you think so? "Because you get older and older."

2. IF you could be invisible for a day, what would you do? "Play my drums when it's not after 5." (I should note that Harper was intent on participating in the interview and feeding Hudson answers. She had suggested that he might partake in some naughtiness if he were invisible, for example, playing his drums after 5 pm, which is against the rules. He then responded that he would partake in NO naughtiness, even if he were invisible.)

3. What is something that makes our family special? "GOD."

4. Are you a good friend? "YES." Why do you think so? "Because I like Trammell. Almost one hundred and eighty people like me!"

5. How would the world be different if animals could talk? "In Arnia!" (by which he means "In Narnia.")

6. What's the best thing about being a kid? "Doing stuff I like to do and shoot guns and stuff." The worst thing? "Nothing."

7. Where is your favorite place in the world? "Hm. I like the zoo the LEAST. The best one is the zoo because I like the turtles. CAMPING!!" (he's of three minds about this one, obviously)

8. If you could give one gift to every child in the world, what would it be? "Everything that everyone likes."

9. What are five words that describe you? "I like guns, and knives, and bombs. I am an army man. I am a spy. I like holding knives and guns."

10. If you could invent something, what would it be? "Cars 2 things. Bullets."

11. If you could make one rule that everyone in the world had to follow, what would it be? "Not good. Not good. Follow GOD'S thing."

12.What's your favorite..
Color? Green
Smell? Muffins
Food? Red bell peppers
Book? Cars 2
Activity? Cut something with a knife, shoot something with a gun
Sound? Drums

13. What does Daddy like to do? "He likes to shoot guns and play cars and cut things with knives."

14. What does Mommy like to do? "Go to church!" (I should note that at this point Harper piped up, "No, Mommy likes to sit at her computer," and I politely told her she needed to go elsewhere.)

15. What makes you special? "God."

16. What do you MOST want to do? "Shoot guns and cut with a knife."

17. What would you like to write a book about? "Cars 2 and James Fond and Finn."

18. What's your favorite thing to wear? "A Cars 2 shirt and some Cars 2 pants." (I would like to state for the record that he does NOT own any Cars 2 pants, though he did get a t-shirt for his birthday that I have convinced him is ONLY for wearing at home) "Army man shirt and pants."

19. Describe what you look like. "A boy who looks like a spy because he has long hair, which is true."

20. What are you looking forward to this year? "I'm excited about getting all my presents, all my muffins." (Harper: "Why didn't you say karate?")

Hudson at five: Fond, James Fond

I just came from tucking the brand new five year old boy in. As he was nestling down into his sleeping bag, getting ready for his nightly back scratch, with his blue fleece blanket (the one with a puppy paw pattern that he's slept with since he came home from the hospital) cuddled up to his cheek, he popped his thumb in his mouth, as he has done every night since he was around 4 months old. Then he popped it out and said,in a small voice, "No." He has, apparently all by himself, decided that Five Year Old Boys Don't Need Thumbs For Sleeping. Which I'm sure will make his dentist very happy (if I ever decide to take him), but I teared up a little.

I did do the birthday interview with him today, but I'm too tired to transcribe it all tonight. Suffice it to say the dominant theme is Weapons and God and Spies. Kind of like the Crusades. My favorite was #17: What do you want to write a book about? He said, "Cars 2 and James Fond and Finn McMissile."

So, we are all so deeply FOND of our sweet funny Hudson Bear, Huts, Huffin, Huttin, Bud. My boy. I am filled with deep joy and deep grief at the thought of five years having passed in a blink.

The plot refuses to thicken

Hudson has gotten into the habit of asking really big, important questions when we are in the car. Today, after seeing the huge picture of a pregnant lady on the outside of the huge, almost finished maternity hospital we pass on our way to the museums, he asked, "But HOW does the baby GET inside the Mommy? Does God do it?" I told him yes, that in a sense he does. Then Helena said something about Mary, because anytime we are talking about God or Jesus, she mentions Mary. Yesterday, he asked what I thought was a pretty insightful question about the nature of the trinity (should that be capitalized?)and I gave him a pretty basic answer about the three-in-one (and Helena piped in "and MARY!" and I said "No, not really."), and then I added, "It's like our Latin: In principio erat verbum!" (handy, that) and told him that big, important questions deserved a Mommy who wasn't trying to navigate traffic. But really I am SCARED to answer all of these questions and I secretly hope he will forget that he asked.

I like to try to think like a novelist (because I would someday like very much to write like a novelist) and a series of events this week fell nicely into a little cause and effect plot:

1. Last Tuesday, I decided to take all three kids to the post office at 4:45 pm. I would NEVER do this under normal circumstances, but I had some clothes to send to a growing baby, and I realized any further delay might mean the baby was matriculating from high school before I got the size 6 months onesies in the mail.

2. The line was LONG, the postal workers methodical. It took 35 minutes.

3. The kids did fairly well. Harper noticed that one of the ladies who was waiting in line in front of us had Cafe Express on her shirt. She pointed and said, loudly, "LOOK MOMMY! CAFE EXPRESS!" because there is a Cafe Express nearby and the husband will, on occasion, pick up food from there on his way home. The lady smiled at her and left.

4. About a minute later, she was back. She had gone out to her car and gotten four coupons for free meals at Cafe Express. She gave them to Harper.

5. Saturday afternoon we went to a birthday party. On the way home we decided we would go eat at PF Changs, then we got there and it was going to be a 45 minute wait. We left and I remembered the coupons.

6. So we went to Cafe Express and made a big deal about Harper buying our entire dinner ($38 dollars worth!!) She was very pleased.

7. When we came out and got in the van, the husband noticed something in the rearview mirror. "Did you draw a picture on the back window?" I said I had not. He got out to investigate what I could see was a rather cute little animated boy someone had used their finger to draw. He got in, a grim expression on his face. "Does it say something bad?" I whispered. YES, he said emphatically, "It says WASH ME." Now, you should understand that WASH ME written on his car is probably worse for the husband than profanity. Until he married me, his car was always immaculate. So, we had a chat about how I might work a car wash into my weekly errands. I was resistant.

8. But I realized that I complain that certain things just aren't POSSIBLE WITH THREE SMALL CHILDREN way more than I actually just problem solve and get things done. So, after yet another trip to the post office (to buy a few more 20 cent stamps for my square Christmas cards, which is a whole entire different and frustrating tale) with three kids, we went to the $4 car wash that includes a free vacuum token. Then it started to sprinkle. Then Helena really wanted to lose all control of her emotions when the big brushes started buffeting the van, but we all worked together to reassure her that we weren't being assaulted by a maniac Sesame Street character. Just as we pulled around to the vacuums, it started to rain a little harder. Then, just as I put the token in for the vacuum, Hudson told me he needed to urinate. I ignored him and vacuumed. Helena said, "It's VERY LOUD. VERY VERY LOUD." repeatedly. Hudson got out of his car seat and began to do a little dance with a tortured look on his face. I hung the vacuum up and dug around until I found a gallon ziploc bag. He almost filled the thing up, which made me concerned for the health of his excretory system. Then I took the bag. Then, as little boys sometimes do, he wasn't quite finished with the marathon pee, and sprinkled some on my just-vacuumed carpet. Then he said, "THAT was a LOT of t.t. for a boy who's very small!" and I smiled and we drove to the library to turn in some books.

I'll be back on Friday in order to commemorate a certain very small boy who is turning FIVE.

Ladybug, ladybug, what do you see?

Helena has been taking more pictures than I have. If she sees me with my camera, she runs inside to get the old one and clicks away. She has no idea it doesn't have a memory card.

I was reading on the couch with Harper and Hudson a couple of days ago (the James Herriot treasury we got for Christmas which we all LOVE) and Hudson noticed a ladybug on the window. I captured him in a paper cup and we took him outside and set him free, after a minute or so of excited observation, which I am 100% certain we enjoyed WAY more than the poor ladybug. He (because my kids are convinced that all insects and animals, stuffed or otherwise, are male. I don't know why) flew very high when we released him, hopefully to a land rich in aphids and not inquisitive children.

Harper still has a bit of a lisp (and her first loose tooth is not helping at all) and one day she said the dooziest sentence EVER to exploit a lisp. Sasha was barking like an insane feral rabid beast at the mail lady and Harper said, "Oh Sasha. She is not a solicitor." Go ahead and say it with a lisp and giggle to yourself.

We were on our way to meet the Rives at the zoo this morning and Harper asked if everyone in America has a computer. I said that the percentage was probably pretty high. She then said, "Not in the WORLD though." and I agreed and reminded her how rich we are here in America. How most of us have what we need and lots of things we want, at which point she started making a list, "like computers and t.v.s and TOYS," and Helena piped in, "And pinky toes!" We all giggled. Who doesn't want a pinky toe after all?

My stack of Albert Schweitzer books still sits on my shelf, untouched. Does anyone know David McCullough or Eric Metaxas personally? Because if you do, I'd appreciate it if you'd ask them to write a Schweitzer biography for me that doesn't have sentences like, "Whereas in its investigation of the sources critical theology tended more and more to place the onus of historical proof on each pericope, Schweitzer reversed the process." T'aint no way my addled brain can consume that at the end of a long day.

This morning Hudson issued this actual complaint: "WHY did you MAKE me eat PANCAKES first when I wanted cereal???" Do anyone else's children traffic in such ingratitude? It makes me want to feed him rocks and mud. While smiling.

I suppose that needs to be all for today. The kitchen is a disaster, etc. Here's a cute picture to close (notice Hudson's slight lean away):

Eyeore begat

I like coming up with titles for my posts. It's actually my favorite part. In high school I was on the newspaper staff (I also co-edited the yearbook with my friend Kathy, but if you could see the finished product you would understand why I don't boast about this rather dubious accomplishment. Our yearbook was called The War Whoop, incidentally.) and I think it was my junior year that I made it to UIL regionals in the headline writing competition. You had to read a short article and come up with a catchy headline that fit into a particular number of spaces on the newspaper page. Back then in the 1900's, we used a system of hash marks above and below the letters to count the spaces. I'm sure there is an app for it now.

I wrote a newsletter (very, very infrequently) when I was teaching in Hungary, and I really wanted to title it "Serving the Lard With Gladness" but then thought better of it. It's ironic that Hungarians eat as much lard as they do and still manage to be a very slender people as a whole. Also, did you know they don't even call it 'Hungary'? It's Magyarorszag. So, practically the same.

Yesterday Hudson got frustrated with Harper at lunch and this happened:

Hudson: I'm going to frow a bomb in your EYE!

Harper: (smugly) Daddy will not let you do that. Because bombs are very EXPENSIVE.

Um hm, yes, the expense is what would keep Daddy from letting Hudson throw a bomb in your eye.

Both the big kids have been pretty surly and disagreeable lately. There are lots of factors involved, but I'm beginning to see that being the offspring of two melancholy parents might be a bit tricky to overcome, genetically speaking.

Last night I read an article in the Wall Street Journal about a French painter named Jean-Baptiste Simeon Chardin (that is quite a name to live up to, n'est pas?) and his famous still life of a disemboweled stingray hanging on a hook behind an inquisitive kitten. It is very pitiful to see, and I made a note that when we go to the Louvre some day (when, not if. One of my students, Tibor, taught me that. It is a non-Eyeore way of thinking.) I will need to direct Harper away from that particular gallery.

We just did a math lesson and I'm beginning to feel that first grade Singapore Math is already over my head. Bah.

I got myself this yoga (or 'faux-ga' as my friend Jamie calls it) mat and a dvd for Christmas and this is pretty much the extent of use thus far:
I did attempt to do it one day during nap time, then Harper and Hudson wandered out and sat on the couch behind me making very sweet comments like, "That's really good yoga you are doing Mommy!" and "Your legs are bent but that lady has hers straight Mommy!" and I realized that faux-ga is NOT a spectator sport. Plus it hurt a little, which means I'm probably not posing right or something.

Our Christmas tree is still up. And yes, it's real. And no, I haven't watered it since somewhere around December 21.

Here are some cute books we've enjoyed this month:

1. Henry Hikes to Fitchburg by D.B. Johnson
Henry (as in David Thoreau) is a bear who tells his friend he can walk the 30 miles to Fitchburg in the time it takes his friend to earn the 90 cents and take the train. His friend does chores for the Alcotts, Hawthornes, and Emersons to earn his money, which I thought was clever. **SPOILER ALERT**Henry's friend beats him to Fitchburg, but only because Henry stops to pick some blackberries.

2. Snowflake Bentley by Jacqueline Briggs Martin,ill. Mary Azarian
The true story of Wilson Bentley, born in Vermont in 1865, who, because he was so enthralled with the beauty of snowflakes, discovered a way to photograph them and share them with the world. I cry at the end of this one. Because I am a sucker for this kind of devotion to the pursuit of the sublime.

3. A Sick Day for Amos McGee by Philip C. Stead, ill. Erin E. Stead
Amos McGee works at the zoo and loves his animal friends in practical, thoughtful ways every day. Until he gets sick. Then, they reciprocate. I LOVE the illustrations. LOVE.

4. Me...Jane by Patrick McDonnell
This adorably illustrated biography of Jane Goodall as a little girl is a delight. Jane Goodall has much in common with a certain little girl who lives in my house and loves stingrays and horses with the same ardor that Jane loved chimpanzees.

5. The Year at Maple Hill Farm by Alice and Martin Provensen
Simple, whimsical illustrations and text detailing what happens on a farm each month of the year.

6. The Milly-Molly-Mandy Storybook by Joyce Lankester Brisley
"Once upon a time there was a little girl. She had a Father, and a Mother, and a Grandpa, and a Grandma, and an Uncle, and an Aunty; and they all lived together in a nice white cottage with a thatched roof."
Harper and I are reading these stories, written in the 1920's and 30's, and they are delightful. Sometimes I have to look up words. Did you know a 'farthing' is one-fourth pence?