'sup

Overheard just now as the kids are sitting at the table playing with their play-doh (that we made over a month ago--I was astounded to find it was still soft):

Harper: Hudson, guess how Paddington spells soup? S-O-O-P!
Hudson: (fake laughing because he thinks this sounds fine, but senses from the derision in Harper's tone that it is not) HAH! Um. How do you spell soup really?
Harper: S-U-P.


Which explains why just this afternoon, we began a spelling program. I was hoping that Harper would be an intuitively good speller (I am. Is that bragging?) just by reading lots of good books. Alas, it doesn't seem to be working. It has something to do with her self confidence. She really feels like her spelling is better than the actual spelling, and that the rest of us should go along with her.

We went to a park with some friends this morning. It is lovely weather here in Houston for election day .I voted last week because one of the early polling places happened to be at our library. While we were waiting in line, Harper asked me who I was voting for. I told her that we have a secret ballot, and that as she gets older we can talk more about the issues and how that informs our choices, but that I wanted to keep my vote a secret. A lady about my mom's age turned around and said , "Good for you!" and told me her mom had never told her how she voted when she was young and that she had not told her own kids when they were young. Another mom, closer to my age, looked a little defensive, and added that she thought it was Important to tell her kids how she was voting and WHY. I suspect she doesn't have extended conversations with her kids about the nuance of the issues. It reminded me of my college roommate freshman year who told me she was a Democrat. When I asked her for specific reasons why, she got really defensive and said her parents were Democrats and that, by golly, that was good enough for her. At the time, I thought that was a really dumb answer. I still do. Although I probably vote in a way similar to my parents at this point, it has more to do with shared sensibilities than any loyalty to their particular party affiliation. Isn't that how it should be?

 Here's a picture of us doing some school this afternoon. Hudson was working on writing some zeroes, Harper was writing a story with her spelling words (and mostly spelling them correctly) and Helena was playing with her purple play-doh. Sasha likes to sit at the table while we are learning. I do not have a lesson plan for her.

Books of the week

The grandparents Pate were here this weekend and we went to the husband's campus to show them around on Saturday morning. We enjoyed the museums and the kids picked out these tiny Bible keychains from the gift counter. When Harper got home she got out her microscope and a printer's loop to try to read the minute print. She claims she was able to discern a few verses.

I'm going to start posting more often. It's part of my Resolutions Upon Turning 42. If you know me at all, you might know that I am long on resolve and short on actual follow-through. Which is actually one of the things I am trying to change.

I would also like to be more structured in all that I do, and it's going to be lots of work, and probably painful. Similar to the work involved in getting my wiry, enormous hair to look presentable. So basically I am going to employ an extremely hot Chi flat iron to my frizzy, out of control character. We'll see how it goes.

Harper went upstairs after breakfast and decided to craft an octopus Christmas ornament out of felt.  This was not on my morning agenda. I was quickly reminded that felt is very annoying when it comes to trying to glue anything on it. Then I got out my really cheap hot glue gun and it doesn't work either and then we decide there is going to need to be sewing involved. It went downhill from there. Because if anything will remind you of the lack of structure in your heart and soul, it is an unplanned craft project involving a felt octopus in need of stitching.

So, a list will make me feel better I think. Here are some books we have enjoyed this week:

1. Mary Engelbreit's Mother Goose: One Hundred Best-Loved Verses
--the B's gave us this when Helena was born and she LOVES it. The only drawback is that she feels I should read ALL 100 verses every time we read it.

2. Kate and Pippin: An Unlikely Love Story by Martin Springett, photographs by Isobel Springett
--This is the true story of a Great Dane named Kate who adopts an orphaned fawn. I love these stories of inter species affection, because I think it's a tiny glimpse of what heaven is going to be like with all the lambs and lions.

3. Owen and Mzee: The True Story of a Remarkable Friendship by Isabella and Craig Hatkoff, Paula Kahumbu, photographs by Peter Greste
--Another true story of animals taking care of one another. Owen is a baby hippo who lost his mom in  the tsunami in 2004. He meets an ancient Aldabra tortoise named Mzee and the two form a special bond.

4. Melvin and the Boy by Lauren Castillo
--The boy desperately wants a pet and his parents come up with lots of (very good) reasons why he can't have one. He finds a turtle at the park and brings him home and names him Melvin. The boy realizes Melvin really wants to be back in his pond and decides to return him. This book is timely because a certain girl in my family desperately wants a pet frog, so we went to Petsmart last weekend only to discover that pet frogs need things like a weekly supply of living crickets and there was Great Mourning when I told her I was not about to work a weekly cricket run into my schedule. Hudson really wants a pet turtle and they are slightly less work, but it probably won't happen until he is around 12 and can do all the work himself.

5. Hopper and Wilson by Maria van Lieshout
--Hopper is an elephant, Wilson is a mouse, and they launch a paper boat to sail to the end of the world.

6. A House in the Woods by Inga Moore
--Two pigs, a moose and a bear recruit a team of beavers to build them a big house where they can all live together. The beavers agree as long as they can be paid in peanut butter sandwiches. Cuteness abounds.

7. Ballerina Swan by Allegra Kent and Emily Arnold
--Sophie is a swan who longs to be a ballerina. Helena really likes this one.

8. Stars by Mary Lyn Ray and Marla Frazee --Simple and delightful:"White stars in June grass become strawberries in July. Yellow stars on pumpkin vines become October pumpkins." I love books that remind us to look closely and marvel.

 9. Stuck by Oliver Jeffers --Hudson in particular liked this silly story of a boy named Floyd who goes to extreme measures to get his kite unstuck from a tree.

 10. The Little Red Pen by Janet Stevens and Susan Stevens Crummel --The little red pen belongs to a teacher who has fallen behind with her grading. There are lots of other desk supplies who band together to get the papers graded and save the world. This one gave me a terrible flashback to my days as a teacher who was forever behind with my grading, but the kids thought it was hilarious.

 That will be all. I'm going to try to be back soon..

Since it is fall after all

We put together some costumes from the dress-up bin and headed to a church for their Reformation Day celebration. Okay, maybe that isn't exactly how they billed it. Anyway, the kids looked cute (Harper is a cowgirl, or maybe Annie Oakley, Hudson is Luke Skywalker, and Helena is a snow princess) and I didn't have to answer the door for any teenagers in inappropriate or terrifying costumes. I also didn't have to give away any of the naturally flavored, organic, fairly traded lollipops I bought at Whole Foods (after reading that article about where most of our chocolate comes from) which means more for us!

On Monday we made the yearly pilgrimage out to Dewberry Farm and the kids had their usual great time. I also continued my tradition of not managing to get a single good photo. Alas, I will post them anyway. During the hayride, some of the kids broke out into one of the songs from our history memory work. I don't know if the guy driving the tractor understood that they were singing, "TAXES, SLAVERY, UNEMPLOYMENT AND DISEASES ALL CONTRIBUTED TO THE FALL OF ROME!!" but if he did, I am certain he now has another priceless anecdote to file under Bizarre Behavior of Homeschooled Kids.

Red bell pepper universe

Today while the kids were eating lunch, Hudson said, "Mommy! What if the entire universe was full of only red bell peppers?? God would look down and say, "WOW.'" Indeed. He is, at this very moment, looking at a book about experimental organic chemistry that he pulled off the shelf. He claims he's reading it in his MIND. Perhaps he will find something to support his red bell pepper universe hypothesis. We dissected owl pellets at Classical Conversations on Friday, and while Harper thought it was terrific, Hudson found it a touch smelly, which doesn't bode well for a career in science for him. Or maybe by the time he's grown up, it will all be done by hologram or something, and there will be no smells.

Well, it is in the upper 80's here in the Houston suburbs today, so I cleaned out the sandbox (which hasn't had sand in it since we moved) let the kids put on their (getting too small) swimsuits, and play in the water. It was good (also loud) fun for an hour or so. Then Helena somehow fell and skinned  her elbow and her knee and that was cause for great (also loud) lamentation. Then she ate two entire kiwis with her lunch and that seemed to help.

Harper has been reading Alice in Wonderland by herself, and she, Hudson and I have been reading The Tale of Despereaux together before bed. It's a bit thematically intense compared to our usual stories, but I am really liking it. Next in line is a story about a little donkey named Brighty who lived in the Grand Canyon. I think a solid 90% of the books we read are about animals. Is that weird?

Do you know about Philip and Erin Stead? Their first book, titled A Sick Day for Amos McGee,  won all of the important awards for children's picture books a couple of years ago, because of its perfection and awesomeness. They have a new book, Bear Has a Story to Tell, and I just picked it up from the library on Saturday. The story is simple and delightful, and again, the illustrations are PERFECTION. I love watercolors, and Erin (Phillip is an illustrator as well, but has a different style) uses all of these very cool wood blocking techniques to get this cozy, warm, amazing effect that suits the simple stories sublimely. I looked them up on the internet and discovered they are a married couple and they live in a barn in Michigan. And they are very young, which means they have many years to keep making these books for us to love. They also have a blog on which they recommend other great books. So, if you haven't already, read these RIGHT NOW. I INSIST:

1. A Sick Day for Amos McGee and
2. Bear Has a Story to Tell by Phillip Stead, illustrated by Erin Stead
3. And Then It's Spring by Julie Fogliano, illustrated by Erin Stead

Now, I need to go do a reading lesson with Hudson so he won't have to read only in his MIND, but will actually know how to read in REALITY.

Patchy, at best

I have opened up the comments. I didn't actually know what my setting was, but I had three different people tell me that they would like to leave comments, but couldn't because they didn't have a google account, or couldn't remember their password. I like comments, and I hope I don't get any mean anonymous ones, or ones in different languages trying to get me and my LEGION of readers to sign up for some sort of Chinese ponzi scheme.

Further evidence of my shocking lack of technology acumen: a couple of weekends ago I had this very unpleasant sinus/allergy thing, during which I was confined to the bed for an entire day with only my trusty iPad and a doting chihuahua to grant me solace, and it somehow popped up on the Facebook that I had "liked" an article that I had not even read, and had CERTAINLY not "liked." It happened to be an article (I did go and peruse the first paragraph, while quivering with indignation) about Michelle Duggar's uterus writing a letter of protest. I would never read or "like" such an article, because I actually have the utmost respect for Mrs. Duggar and her family. Also, everyone knows that a uterus can't write a letter. Anyway, I had been on the site where the article was listed, in order to, and this is a twist, read an article about how Facebook was posting supposedly private messages on public walls, and how to fix it. I don't know if Sasha the dog managed to hit the like button in her zeal to get just a little bit closer to me in my infirmity, or if one of the kids did it in their eagerness to help me feel better so I would get up and go outside so they could ride their bikes. Anyway, it made me even more scared of Facebook.

Helena has been waking up at around 6 am and she will get up and get herself dressed and then play in her room until she hears the Daddy rustling around. Some of the outfits she puts together are less than matching, but I do not comment, because I love that she is getting herself up independently. She also will wander into the kitchen and get everyone a spoon and their vitamin, and place them neatly on the table. Of course, the other two find reasons to be displeased with her spoon choices, which makes me sigh.

I turned 42 on Saturday. Which means I am a little more than halfway through my life, statistically. The husband got me mini bundt cakes, we ate out TWICE, and I bought a very ugly pair of slippers for 75% off at the mall. AND my parents came on Friday, which is always a delight. They always give me money on my birthday and I bought a new shirt and a cardigan and also a Noonday bracelet. Harper also made me three bracelets all by herself. Here's a picture: (L-R: Harper Designs, Noonday, Harper Designs, the ugly slippers in the background. I had to kick while posing)

One of the churches we've been visiting has a huge pumpkin patch every October. The kids were all very excited to go to church this morning. Because they love to worship God in community with other believers (where there just happen to be hundreds of pumpkins):

Mood swing

We are just back from a few days with the Grandparents Pate. The two huge pecan trees in their backyard (which were mere twigs when they moved into the house when I was Hudson's age) had a bountiful harvest this year, and they needed all the little helpers they could get to gather them up, shell them, and eat them. Thekids all like pecans (which I never did until I grew up and got some sense) though Helena does tend to chew each one for about 20 minutes and then decide she might want to spit it out instead of actually swallowing it. We went to the Tugboat Island park (and saw a real tugboat pushing a barge down the Neches River! The kids barely glanced at it because they were in such a hurry to get to the faux tugboat on the playground.) Then Helena really wanted to swing on the tire swing and thought it important that at least one of the other two join her. They declined, and this was very sad news indeed. She then decided that I was not being very sympathetic to her plight, and she progressed through the five stages of grief. While I showed great sensitivity by taking many pictures:

 

Intersection

This year Classical Conversations (our once-a-week homeschool co-op) was kind enough to put our history timeline to music. I have some issues with their musical choices at times (things can get a touch trilly, which is trying for me) though it is beyond dispute that putting words to music makes memorizing so much easier. Exhibit A: Harper was playing with the Scrabble tiles, and I came in to discover this. Romulus got shorted a bit with the two blank tiles.

At the end of the timeline song (September 11, 2001 is the last peg--when will there be something to add, I wonder?) the singer sings, "Timeline, timeline, I'm part of my timeline," and it gets me every time to hear the kids singing that. I don't think they get the whole "intersecting time and space" idea just yet (in spite of all the Francis Schaeffer bedtime stories) and I wonder at what age that happens. Maybe when they grasp the passing of time? I was thinking about how Helena refers to any sleeping she does as "my nap"--she thinks the 12 hours she sleeps at night is basically the same as the two hours she sleeps in the afternoon. I think Harper might be beginning to grasp it a little, now that she can tell time. But when you are seven, the passing of time is strictly reason for anticipation and excitement. For our safe, well-fed little people, there is no dread, no real tedium, no physical labor to speak of. I read this article in the Wall Street Journal a couple of weeks ago about how kids today (the safe, well-fed sort) aren't being allowed to experience adversity in any real way, and that it is leading to a lack of character. The author of the article called them a generation without grit. I'll confess that my kids are gritless. But I'm also not sure what real adversity is supposed to look like for them. Is losing every soccer game or not having a friend to sit by at lunch the same thing as some 9 year old boy during the Civil War having to keep the family farm running after his dad died on the battlefield, or a girl having to take in sewing instead of going to school during the Depression so that her family could afford flour?  How do we put our kids in authentic situations in which they can experience adversity? Let me know, would you, so I can again sleep like a normal person? When I have these little existential crises, I get a touch of insomnia.

On that note, and I think I have mentioned this once or twice, I love coffee. Perhaps to the point of idolatry. The good news is, I am content to drink the kind we make at home, and only in the morning. But the thought of that going away, ever, is so dire I can't ponder it.

 I just started reading a biography of Jonathan Edwards, trying to figure out what goals we need to have for the  kids. He started at Yale when he was 13. I'm still pretty sure I don't care if my kids even go to college, so we'll see if this changes my mind.

Harper painted a cardinal on this tiny canvas for Grandmother M's birthday. She has been nurturing a bit of an inflated ego lately. As she was putting the finishing touches on her cardinal, she queried aloud, "I wonder who is the best painter in the family now?" and I assured her that it was certainly still me, because I've had so many more years of practice. She conceded, but I think she secretly still thinks she's better. She also told me yesterday that she could definitely ride her bike fast enough to beat a car. Sometimes I pop her balloon of self-delusion, sometimes I say things like, "With lots of perseverance and hard work, who knows?!!" Her biking confidence is mostly stemming from a camping trip last weekend with the Daddy, during which there was trail riding on their bikes that apparently involved steep ravines and other dangerous endeavors. They were both pretty puffed up that they had done it without falling. Maybe because they were super stylish in their Keens WITH socks. 

Last night when we were reading the Jesus Storybook Bible, Helena asked me what Jesus' last name was. I told her 'of Nazareth' and also 'Christ' and sometimes, 'The Messiah." Then she asked how old God is. I told her infinity, and she seemed pleased. Then she went to bed and called it her nap. And dreamed, perhaps, of ballerina bears.