Learning to fly

I think I mentioned we are reading E.B. White's The Trumpet of the Swan out loud at bedtime, and I am loving it. The father swan (called a 'cob' which was new information to me) is delightfully long-winded and very proud of his cygnets. He is given to long speeches about the How-tos of Flight and other things that are better shown and not told. I identify with him to an uncomfortable degree.

We had a small tragedy here a few nights ago. The husband had put on an episode of "Man vs. Wild" while he got dinner ready (I was on my way to my summer Bible study) and it was a highlights show in which Bear Grylls ate many, many disturbing things. As I came in to say my good-byes, I noticed that Hudson was waving his wooden knife in front of his face. I also noticed that he looked like he was fighting back tears. Then I looked at the t.v. and saw that Bear was putting a very adorable, very dead tortoise on a fire. To cook it. In order To EAT it. The reason Hudson was waving his wooden knife in front of his face is because he was trying to UNSEE the tragedy that was transpiring. His hero had killed and was about to eat his Very Favorite Animal in the Entire World. He ended up hiding under his covers while crying with all of this stuffed turtles (they are LEGION) under there with him, claiming that he wasn't crying about the turtles, but that he had sustained a very painful wound on his way up the stairs. I think it was officially the moment that Bear Grylls became Dead to Hudson (formerly Hudson Bear Grylls). I asked the husband if perhaps he had taken the opportunity to have a chat with him about how sometimes our heroes do things that we find disappointing, but he had not.

I forgot to mention that Harper got a Swiss Army knife for her birthday, and also some sort of utility knife. When she was around 5, we had seen a pink one at REI and she said she wanted it and I said something careless like, "Oh, maybe when you are seven," and of course she remembered the exact conversation for two entire years and brought it up every couple of months. I am just thankful that she did not remember that she also wanted a set of bagpipes when she turned seven. That might have been the final one of my nerves to go. Ping!

Today I was feeling a little sorry for myself because several of our dear friends are at VBS at our old church. I had decided not to go because of the drive (35 minutes without traffic, much more with) but then on Friday I decided that I really wanted to have the kids go, only it was too late to sign up. So, we got up and went to the library, and this happened for a couple of hours when we got home:

(Hudson would want me to note that he has his light saber, his sling shot, and his knife on his belt. And his watergun in hand. Because You Never Know when Danger Could Strike, perhaps even when one is reading a book about sparrows or hermit crabs.)

Also, we completely avoided television the entire day AND the computers were down at the library, which made me happy (I have a theory that the librarians secretly shut the internet down every so often just to make people realize that the library is FULL OF BOOKS FOR GOODNESS SAKES GET OFF THE COMPUTERS AND READ!!) (Also, there were four disappointed, but still cheery, Mormon missionaries hanging out in the lobby in their white shirts and ties.I saw them last time as well. In the computer lab. Should I report them??)

Helena played for a good hour with the Playmobil swimming pool:while Harper read the first five chapters of Charlotte's Web and the first three chapters of The Courage of Sarah Noble. She also read Stuart Little all by herself last week.

 Then, after dinner, I decided to say yes even though I really wanted to say no, and Helena sprayed the hose with abandon while Harper took some pictures with my camera. "I took some of the sunset, Mommy!" she told me. In your head, you should definitely hear Tevye singing "Swiftly fly the years.."

Having fun in the sun (with a gun) at Noah's Ark

I've been wanting to mention that every once in a while, when I go get Helena up from her nap or her night's sleep, she will have taken off her Raggedy Ann's pantaloons and apron and she will have put them on herself. It's funny, trust me. We finally moved her out of the crib into a toddler bed when we moved, and it is going fine, except for the fact that she wakes up significantly earlier, gets out of her bed, and comes to ours. Usually around 6:45, when she used to stay in the crib until around 8 :30.

What else is going on here? A couple of boxes still stashed here and there, but for the most part, we are unpacked. We can get both cars in the garage, but it is TIGHT. To take the trash out, I have to empty my body of all air and do a Cirque du Soleil move to keep from amputating my lower leg on the minivan license plate, but we can get both cars in there. Anyway, I even have shower curtains now, including a new one I got at Target that has birds on it: We have found the best library (sadly, it is not the closest library) and, after some initial anxiety, I have realized how to request books online (though, after requesting about 30, I discovered the limit was 10. Which elicited a minor profanity from moi). I think I might do a book post this week because it has been awhile and we have read some good ones lately. The big kids and I have been reading E.B. White's Trumpet of the Swan aloud at bedtime and we are all enjoying it. We have walked down to the pool 3 times and it's only a little stressful with three kids who can't really swim (because of the aforementioned Lack of Lessons). I'm hoping they'll learn by the end of the summer. Harper is pretty close, though, as with most things, her confidence exceeds her actual ability.

 We want to a Sugar Land Skeeters game: Sometimes, the suburbs have their own minor league baseball teams! For my non-American readers, a 'skeeter' is Texan for 'mosquito' and Helena was ENAMORED with the fleecy mascot and could not focus on the game until she had give him a big hug (while the husband shuddered and wished he could bathe her in Purell).

 Today we went to a local church which, for a sizable fee, will let you play on their Noah's Ark splashpad/swimming pool. The kids had a fantastic time. At one point, my little man friends Tram and Dex were talking to me and we made up a little rap that celebrated all the fun they were having with their (water) guns at Noah's Ark. They stared at me with dazed expressions, which made me realize that if you don't have a gangsta for a mama maybe the raps are a little startling. I'm pretty sure Mrs. Noah probably made up a similar little something to sing with Shem, Ham and Japheth.

The husband has been spending MUY tiempo on the yard. We still have the motor-less mower, but he bought a pretty fancy weed-eater to prove we are Legit. The grass seems to be doing well, and the free trees are working hard to someday make shade in the backyard. I am OVERJOYED to report that we seem to have ZERO roaches. We have had to deal with two extremely robust spiders in the house (and many small ones), some fire ants,  and the neighbors have been warning us about the fact that legions of MICE seem to disregard the fact that we have paved their paradise and put up our houses. That freaks me out less than roaches, which I realize is WEIRD. I don't invite mice, mind you, but at least they are mammalian.

Okay then.

The $500 cartwheel and other random musings upon a Thursday

1. I have now walked to the grocery store two nights in a row. If I get the kids down in time, I get to experience the lovely pinks and indigoes of dusk, which is my favorite time of day. Tonight
I saw a rabbit (I whispered, "Hello Peter. I see you.") and also two large frogs.

2. I have been wearing the same clothes for 4 days. Perhaps if you have been in my presence during this time, you are saying to yourself, "AHA! That explains The Smell," but I have been showering daily and also changing the underthings. It's just a little experiment. Like Einstein.

3. I am making some oatmeal muffins. The oatmeal is presently soaking in some buttermilk for one hour. I like baking in my new kitchen because of the quantity of counter space and also the shiny stove that actually IS the temperature I set it on.

4. Today I had beef empanadas at Escalantes. What can I say? It is a tiny pie full of meat and cheese. Not kosher or vegan or even nutritionally VALID in any way. Except Delicious.

5. Speaking of kosher, a little boy arrived at gymnastics today with his little fringes hanging out from under his soccer shirt, a woven yarmulke, and the beginnings of earlocks. The boys in The Chosen never mentioned what it was like to be orthodox at gymnastics class.

6. And speaking of gymnastics, Harper had her last class at the Houston Gymnastics Academy (where, when you walk in you see a huge banner proclaiming, "HOME OF OLYMPIAN SEAN TOWNSEND") today, and I sat and pondered whether or not it has been worth the hefty investment (partly supplemented by a generous Christmas donation from the Grandparents Pate) for her to perfect her cartwheel (and it is, I must say, rather impressive). I have lots of ideas about this modern-day phenomenon of Many Classes for the Very Young Children. Mostly I think it's all hogwash. This kid came in last week wearing his karate gi, which meant either his mother/ nanny person (this gym is in a part of town where even the stay-at-home moms have nanny people. So that they can do important things like work out at the gym with a personal trainer for many hours so that they look awesome in their Lululemon yoga pants. Is that too harsh? Perhaps.I'm leaving it though.) had forgotten that Monday was Gymnastics Day and not Karate Day or, more likely, this 5 year old had  been in school all day, THEN had gone to karate, then had gone to gymnastics. Seriously. That is INSANE. Then today I noticed there was a three year old little boy waiting with his nanny person and he looked tired and his nanny person had given him a Kumon workbook (Kumon is one of those places where people pay to take their kids for the extra tutoring in math and reading that they think they aren't receiving in sufficient amounts during their 7 hours at school each day) that was titled UPPERCASE LETTERS and he was clutching it and staring at the big girls doing their round off back handspring layouts on the floor exercise. Do you know what that three year old probably wished he were doing? NOT learning a forward roll, or how to properly form Uppercase A. He probably wanted to be at home digging in the dirt in his own backyard while his parents talked to him about bugs. Which costs ZERO dollars.

Anyway, I guess I'm a hypocrite because I have decided that maybe the polished cartwheel has been worth the hefty investment. I do believe there are so many things that parents think (because everyone has told them so? Because it's just The Way it IS?) they can't teach their own children. The comment I probably get most often when people find out we homeschool is, "I could NEVER do that!" and I try to say, "Yes, you really could." Because it is true. If you know how to read or swim or do a cartwheel or pound a nail or sew a button or change the oil in the car or speak a different language or play the guitar or, or, or ad infinitum, you CAN teach your kids to do it too. That is really what they want. And if, on occasion, there is something special (like the real reason I ended up signing Harper up for the gymnastics class--I loved being in a real gym when I was her age. With bars and a beam and mats and a trampoline--all things I couldn't replicate at home) that your kid really seems to have an affinity for, (or even just unabashed enthusiasm with no particular affinity) it will be really special to be able to spring for those lessons.

The end of the rant.

7. I have decided whom I'm voting for for president. I'm going to write him in on my ballot. DONALD RUMSFELD. I have loved him for many years hence (the husband knows this and doesn't mind very much) and then I happened to catch an interview on Charlie Rose last night and I was smitten anew. The thing I've always admired about him is that he Does Not Suffer Fools Gladly. Which, of course, means that in this country, he could never actually be president. Because our president does very little BUT suffer fools gladly. During the interview, after a particularly asinine line of questioning, he actually said, firmly, "Charlie Rose! You KNOW.." and it was like a verbal spanking. Awesome. I even own a book that was published several years ago that took snippets of his various sparrings with the press (which made him sigh many deep and exasperated sighs) and put them in poem form. AWESOME. Donald Rumsfeld for president.You heard it here first.

Shall we end with a picture so I can go and finish my muffins? Helena asked if she could wear this tutu thing on her head to church on Sunday (she thinks it is Tres Elegante) and the husband and I looked at each other, shrugged, and said, "Sure." Maybe one day soon I'll write a post about the Douglas Wilson quote Mrs. S shared with me that I've been trying hard to live out: Have a single Tree of 'No' in your Garden of 'Yes.'

Make Way for Ducklings

I neglected to mention in my Moving Statistics what is, inarguably, the most impressive statistic of all.

** The number of different pieces of furniture the husband had to construct from boxes that seemed to be filled with nothing but large, heavy wooden jigsaw pieces, nuts, bolts, and instructions written entirely in Swedish: THIRTEEN!

 In case you've never experienced the marvels of Ikea furniture, even huge pieces of furniture come in tiny boxes that weigh approximately one THOUSAND pounds apiece, and you are expected to put them together with what, I am assuming, is the national tool of Sweden: that little silver L-shaped thingy. So, the husband did that. Even the couch came in many, pieces. I wish I had taken a picture of him putting it together but, needless to say, his mood at the time wasn't exactly amenable to posing, as you can possibly imagine.

Here are a few pictures of his handiwork:

We added the gray ottoman this weekend and I don't think it matches PLUS it makes for a very angular feng shui that I find jarring. There's going to be some adjustment there. Plus I think I'm going to make some pillows for the backs of those Ecktorp chairs, because they seem a touch naked. And they aren't super comfortable. Cute as it is, the little footstool (Homegoods--new discovery. I like.) is too low to make for a comfortable ottoman. Though Harper is using it as a school chair at this very moment while she Explodes the Code:

 You can't really see in this picture, but the beige couch is really more of a sage green/khaki color. The chaise still looks a little unkempt, and I think the slipcover just needs to be adjusted a little. I'm happy to report it is really comfortable. The khaki chair with the white pattern came from Target.com. It came fully assembled except for the legs needing to be screwed on. God bless Target. I've had that coffee table for 12 years and we're planning to stain it dark or maybe paint it, because it really clashes with the other colors.

Now, on to the ducklings. The week we moved in, Harper and I had to drive in to the big city for her gymnastics class, and we noticed a police car going very slowly with its lights flashing up ahead on the tollway. When we got closer, we saw that there was a family of DUCKS ("Family of WHAT?? DUCKS!! yelled Michael. Send a police car, quick!") strolling along the cement wall inside the tollway, where cars whiz along at 70 mph. I'm sorry to report that they weren't mallards, but the Mr. and Mrs. DID seem to be holding their heads quite proudly (and obliviously) as their 5 little ducklings marched behind them. It was very sweet to see that police officer creeping along beside them. I totally meant to write some sort of letter to the editor of the Houston Chronicle noting that for all the bad publicity our department has gotten lately, isn't it wonderful to know that there are officers who will drive for miles to ensure that a family of ducks makes it safely to the next off ramp? Then I couldn't stop singing that song about paving paradise and putting up a parking lot. Or a tollway.

Mrs. S loaned me the book Seven: an experimental mutiny against excess (by Jen Hatmaker) which several friends had recommended. It's ironic that I would mention that at the end of a post in which I showed a bunch of pictures of all our new furniture in our new house. The moving has, as usual, reminded me of all the unnecessary accumulation (physical, spiritual, and emotional) I partake in on a daily basis. We'll see if I can actually DO something about it and not just feel morose about not doing anything about it. Harper and I did walk to the grocery store yesterday. It was over 90 degrees. I stopped short of vocalizing that we were just like Ma and Mary and Laura when I realized we had walked to the grocery store. Where we had bought olive oil and wine and bread made my someone else (made from grain grown by someone else etc. etc) and paper plates and a plastic bin of prewashed organic hearts of romaine and also some cereal and pancake mix. So, nothing like the Ingalls family. But we walked! In the suburbs! Where people get in their SUVs to drive to the neighborhood pool even if it's a block from their house. Teeny, tiny baby steps in the hot, hot sun. Right?

Look at this picture I just took of Hudson, who takes books into bed for quiet time, and ends up napping more often than not:

Seven.

This girl turned seven today.
I realized, after referencing last year's post to get my interview questions, that I really need to interview her BEFORE we do whatever exciting birthday activity she has chosen. Because just as last year's post was VERY Stingray Intensive, I'll let you take a wild stab at what exciting activity Harper got to enjoy for the very first time this morning (with her dear friend Miss J):

1. Harper, at what age is a person a grown-up? "20. I think, is that about right?"

2. If you could be invisible for one day, what would you do? "Sneak up on people?" (me: That's the same thing you said last year!) AND take toys that are on the ground. To make THEM invisible."

3. What is something that makes our family special? "Getting to go ice skating with you."

4. Are you a good friend? (nods) Why? "Because I'm funny and I like to play."

5. How would the world be different if animals could talk?  "They could tell you what they wanted."

6. What is the best thing about being a kid? "Getting to ice skate."

7. The worst thing? "Schoolwork."

8. Where is your favorite place in the world?  "Kemah AND the ice skating rink."

9. If you could give one gift to every child in the world, what would it be? "a unicorn for the girls, and a baseball bat and baseball for the boys."

10. What are five adjectives that describe you? "Funny. She has curly hair, hazel eyes, lost 4 teeth, likes to play with horses. She likes to ice skate, roller skate, and do gymnastics. Is that five?"

11. If you could invent something, what would it be? "A horse park."

12. If you could make one rule that everyone in the world had to follow, what would it be? "DON'T LITTER."

13. What is your favorite:
--color? pink
--smell? "Candles. Good smelling ones. And flowers. Roses and magnolias."
--food? "For breakfast, oatmeal muffins. For lunch, Amy's burritoes. For dinner, dumplings from PF Chang's. Also chocolate chip cookies."
--book? "Probably Magic Treehouse. And Pooh!"
--activity? "Ice Skating! And drawing."
--sound? "The sound of dragonflies buzzing. And Mr. and Mrs. Cardinal chipping."
--animal? "Stingray, octopus, horses, cows, cardinals, and robins."

14. What does Daddy like to do? "Watch t.v. I told you he was going to watch LOTS of t.v. all summer long!"

15. What does Mommy like to do? "Watch me ice skate and roller skate and do gymnastics. She likes to watch ME."

16. What makes you special? "I'm good at LOTS of things on my first time."

17. What do you most want to do? "Ice skate EVERY day!"

18. What would you write a book about? "Horses and unicorns."

19. What is your favorite thing to wear? "Shirts with flowers and pink ones. All my clothes. And shorts. Pretty clothes and dresses."

20. Describe what you look like: "Tall, curly hair, hazel eyes, lost 4 teeth. SEVEN."

21. What are you looking forward to this year? "Ice skating MORE and gymnastics and USING my birthday presents."

22. What is your favorite song? "Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star."

23. What are some things you accomplished as a 6 year old? "Cartwheel. Handstand. I liked playing with my friends and doing presentations (with our Classical Conversations group)."

24. What do you hope this year brings? "ICE SKATING. Telling time, being flexible (which she means literally and not personality-wise), having fun, doing art."

So, I guess you have ascertained that Harper chose to go ice skating for the first time this morning. I wasn't sure how it was going to go, and was so pleasantly surprised that she LOVED it. She was fearless and tenacious, not minding at all the few rather painful-looking spills she took. The skating instructor was very sweet, several times sweeping her up into dramatic lifts:
This has been a year of growing confidence. A year in which the cartwheel has been mastered, and upside down has become more common than right-side up: You've become an independent reader, and a lover of books, which is, naturally, to my great delight. You and Hudson are true and abiding play-mates, and your disagreements have been few, your joys in shared adventure manifold. You are learning to be more and more patient with Helena, and I predict this is the year she will enter in as an almost-equal. You are navigating the oft-confusing world of peer relationships with equal parts enthusiasm and caution, which I think is as it should be. You like to be Alpha, and are learning, with some resistance, that it is sometimes acceptable to be Beta, or Gamma, or even Omega. You are eager to learn about birds and music and stars and horses and volcanoes and tarantulas and the physics of the hula hoop. You are insatiably curious about every detail of every single living thing. And also minerals. You wonder what other people are doing when you aren't there. You aren't keen on my going places without you, because of what you might be missing.

You are around 46 inches tall, and you weigh around 44 pounds. You wanted me to bake oatmeal muffins for breakfast, and you requested chocolate (Pioneer Woman) cupcakes, with white (Pioneer Woman) frosting, sprinkles, and pink jelly beans as your special birthday treat. You wanted to read House at Pooh Corner (which was a present from the Grandparents Pate) before bed. The one where Pooh falls into a pit and lands on poor Piglet. You giggled about poor squashed Piglet and Pooh not realizing he himself was the one doing the squashing.And then they find Small on Pooh's back.

You asked for, and received, a charm bracelet with three charms (plus a gift card for another), a tiny Peter Rabbit china tea-set, a hula hoop, some real watercolors, a red velvet pillow, a Playmobile swimming pool set, some tiny overalls for your stuffed frog Frog E. Doo, a tiny leotard for your stuffed dog Sasha, and a wonderful morning of skating with a dear friend.

Aren't we full, my sweet, sweet, dear daughter? Brimming. And thankful.

It was all very moving

I'm going to summarize the move to the new place with some statistics. Because statistics are tidy and quick and there are, unfortunately, still boxes I need to tend to.

 **Number of days in the new house (which has stairs, about which the kids had been almost overcome with GLEE and JOYFUL ANTICIPATION) before Harper proclaimed, "We need an ELEVATOR!": ONE.

 **Number of emotional breakdowns (completely without merit) the kids had while I was trying to unpack boxes: SIX.

 **Number of days the kids spent in Port Neches with my parents (the first time they've ever been away without me) so that I could pack UP boxes without any emotional breakdowns (other than my own): FOUR.

 **Number of trips up and down the stairs while moving in and unpacking: INFINITY.

**Number of times I used my handy pocket box cutter while moving in and unpacking: INFINITY. (I love this thing so much that I am even using it now when there is no box tape to cut.)

 **Number of times I really needed to wash my hands on the day we moved in, but couldn't because I had forgotten to bring soap of any kind. Or paper towels. Or even Purell: INFINITY.

 **Number of really disgusting things that hasn't happened to any of the kids even EVER that happened while I didn't have any soap or paper towels or even wipes: ONE.

**Percentage of our garage (we have one! A garage! We didn't at the old place) taken up with boxes filled with things that may or may not have never been unpacked when we last moved almost 3 years ago: One-third. (this is actually closer to one-fourth after the husband spent some time out there today)

**Number of severe thunder storms, including hail, we experienced the night we moved in, during which it would have been super awesome to park our cars in the garage (which YES, we fully intend to do): ONE.

**Number of trips I took to Ikea while deciding on and ordering our furniture: SEVEN possibly EIGHT.

 **Number of pairs of shoes I bought at Ikea while deciding on and ordering our furniture: TWO.

**Total price of two pairs of Ikea shoes: $5.

**Number of pairs of shoes I bought at Ikea that, the husband duly noted, make me look as though I am shuffling down the courthouse hallway, while shackled, on the way to my arraignment: ONE.

 **Number of pairs of Ikea shoes that the husband duly noted could not POSSIBLY be any uglier:  ONE.

**Number of $1 ice cream cones I bought at Ikea while deciding on and ordering our furniture: TWO possibly THREE.

That is going to have to be it for now because I just spent an inordinate amount of time trying to figure out how to load pictures on the ipad, after which I finally gave up. After which I had to find the power cord for the laptop and wait for it to clickety clack its way into the internet. I'll close with before and after shots:

Dear house on Kinglet,

You vastly improved our life almost 3 years ago when you provided us with a wonderful, shaded back yard, and rooms for all of us to sleep without anyone needing to be in a closet.  We will miss you and your wonderful foliage.

Dear new house,

We like you and you are pretty and you smell terrific and we believe that those trees have real potential.

Hudson at five and a third

I should be packing, so instead I'm going to sit here and write some things about Hudson. Because if I don't do it now, I might not ever. Unlike packing, which is an unfortunate inevitability.

 I'm doing this on my laptop to see if the spacing issues are the ipad's fault.

 We ran into the grocery store Tuesday night (after dinner at Berryhill, where kids eat FREE on Tuesday) and on our way out, the receipt came out of one of the bags and began to blow away. I charged Hudson with catching it, and he did. "Hudson! You saved the day!" I enthused. "Well," he demurred, "not the ENTIRE day." Endearingly modest, that boy.

 He's been a little scowly and growly lately, and I'm not sure why. He likes to retort, "It doesn't make SENSE!" when I've asked him to do something incredibly difficult and offensive, like empty the bathroom trashcan. On the bright side, he is getting along pretty well with his sisters most of the time. And at the zoo on Wednesday, I happened to overhear this conversation with his friend T:

 T: Let's play "Cars"! I'll be Finn McMissile!(interestingly, to my knowledge, T has never seen "Cars" but is willing to embrace the characters with Hudson, in the same way our princess-loving friend Izzy used to indulge Harper in all of her Lightning needs)

Hudson: I want to be Finn!

 T: I know! We can BOTH be Finn!

Hudson: YEAH!

 And off they drove with their fingers pointed like missiles. It has been my experience that if a little girl had been involved in that negotiation, it would not have resolved so quickly and joyfully. A certain girl in my family would definitely have pointed out the IMPOSSIBILITY of there being more than one Finn.

 Another curl crop has occurred. Will this be the one from which the curls won't return?

He has been playing lots of basketball (in the house mostly, though we've promised a goal at the new house) and he is really good at dribbling. He can pass between his legs and everything. It's only slightly less noisy than the drumming. Hudson is just drawn to all things percussive. Also, when we were at the ranch on Saturday, several people who observed him throwing a football with the Daddy noted that he has an impressive spiral. At his size, he'll definitely need to be super scrappy if he's going to play sports. Like John Stockton (or wait, is that the really old guy that ran for vice-president that time?) or Doug Flutie.

 That will be all, I think. Maybe I'll be back later. Because the albatross about my neck is lighter when I sit at the computer.