My kingdom for a piece of chalk!

I don't suppose I have ever expressed it specifically, but this blog is generally a "best of" compilation when it comes to what I choose to write about. I think blogs (or single posts) that focus on the funny (usually self-effacing)  worst-mom-ever, most-mud-encrusted, free-range-kids-ever moments ARE funny, but I don't necessarily enjoy reading them. I do want to remember that these years are not always funny and delightful and meaningful, but I don't necessarily want to remember it in a public written forum. There now. Expectations adjusted.

So, welcome to Good Times Central. Or, as Helena said at the end of the day on Friday, when my parents were here, "Today was the loveliest day I have ever seen!"

Tonight she also made up a song, which she sang over and over: "God you are my savior. My very cute savior!"

Today I decided to start Hudson's handwriting lessons and I had what I thought were all of my materials. I had my tiny sponge. I had my tiny chalkboard. I had my teacher's book and my student book. Then I realized I needed a piece of chalk. I looked everywhere. I dug and sifted and shuffled. I found three identical sets of addition flashcards all bought at the Target dollar spot. Meanwhile, Hudson was downstairs at the table flipping through the workbook declaring it WAY too easy and also he already KNOWS everything in it. At which point I gave up the chalk quest and settled on a piece of much too fat sidewalk chalk I found in the garage. It did not go well from there. I took a picture of a very brief moment when everything seemed to be fairly steady, just so I will remember that even on days when homeschooling is not fun, there are still moments when things are fine.

We have been doing school for three weeks and already most of our pencils (or "pencles" as Harper prefers to spell it) have no erasers.

For my Dad's birthday, Hudson gave him three of his favorite (used) Matchbox cars (including a Cougar like Grandfather's, only a different color) and a (used) pencil that had Hudson's full name printed on it. He wrapped them by himself. I thought it was all very cute. You know, like God our
savior is very cute.

Without any segue, here is my second Tip For Being Thinner at 42 Than I Was at 25. You'll remember that:

Rule 1: Eat real ice cream instead of self-serve frozen yogurt.

Now,

Rule 2: Eat real sour cream, butter, yogurt, and cheese. Avoid nonfat and low fat substitutes. 

My exception here is milk. I don't really drink much milk, but when I do buy it, I buy 2%. But, interestingly, when I weighed more, I always drank skim. And I bought fat-free or low-fat  EVERYTHING. It just does not taste as good. I would  use this spray "butter" that supposedly had 5 calories a serving or somesuch nonsense. You can imagine the list of chemicals involved in making something taste "buttery" while having only 5 calories.

That's it for today's installation. May tomorrow be the loveliest day you have ever seen

Monday.

I had several titles swirling around in my head and none of them seemed quite right. So, Monday it is. Let's make up for that with a picture of Helena and Baby Gus. She loves him. She looks a little smug about how much she loves him.

Well, I was in such a good groove for the more frequent blogging and then I went and let a whole week go by. Remember that odd song, "Groove is in the Heart"? Obviously, the groove was not in my heart. I've been thinking about something I read about that book Outliers by Malcom Gladwell (I haven't read it, but it has been on My List for a very long time). Apparently he posits that it takes around 10,000 hours to achieve excellence in a given something. So I was thinking that if I blogged more frequently, maybe at some point my cumulative hours of writing would get to 10,000 hours and then I might be an excellent writer. It just seems very tiring. Maybe if I just do, say, 500 hours and become a slightly above average writer?

When something like Syria is going on I get very gloomy and inside-my-brain-y, and instead of doing productive things to overcome the gloom, I get stuck on random questions of great significance like Why Is It That I No Longer Like Frozen Yogurt. Because I just don't. I used to love TCBY white chocolate mousse. I don't know that TCBY even exists anymore, but there are at least 5 other frozen yogurt places near our house, and I am never interested in partaking. I am especially affronted by those places where you pump your own frozen yogurt in the gigantic cup and then they weigh it and you pay around $8.45 for something that would have been $2 back at TCBY circa 1993. I think the sweet flavors are too sweet (and I would rather use those calories for real ice cream with real butter fat. Hi Ben! Hello Jerry!) and the tart flavors don't seem desserty enough. I'd rather eat Greek yogurt and pat myself on the back for all that protein. Then have a nice bowl of  Haagen Daaz chocolate peanut butter.

Maybe I need to do an entire series on my Eating Philosophy. It is bizarre and yet effective: I eat whatever I want and yet I weigh significantly less than I did when I was 25. Rule 1: Don't eat frozen yogurt that you pump yourself. Eat real ice cream.

The grandparents P were here this weekend to babysit while I went to the dentist (not great) and then celebrated Mrs. S turning 40 with fondue and some other delightful couples at Mr. and Mrs. W's house (splendid, just splendid). I tried to cram lots of dentistry into one appointment and that ended up being a bad idea. Though I was reminded of C.S. Lewis' observation that it is right to give frequent thanks that we live in the Age of Anesthesia. They even put topical stuff on so you don't feel the shots in your mouth anymore. That is something, isn't it? Then on Saturday night, Mr. and Mrs. W outdid themselves with the fondue. O warm, wine-infused cheese! How I love thee on a bread cube!

That will have to be all. The 5:30 am Bible study with the church ladies is back in full swing, which means my alarm will sound in 7 hours.

Swim, swam, swum.

Yesterday was the last day our neighborhood pool will be open. And thank goodness, because the temperature dipped down to 101 degrees Farenheit today, which is, of course, much too chilly to think about going swimming.

 Helena decided, on Saturday, to start swimming without her beloved floatie. She just stuck her head under the water and started kicking and swimming like it was no big deal. Hopefully she will remember this newfound confidence when the pool opens again in eight months.

This means that all three of my kids have learned to swim (or maybe "not drown" is more accurate) in their own time without swim lessons or swim team or any other swim activity which costs us lots of money and also necessitates waking up at some crazy early hour every morning in the summertime. Nope, none of that. Unless you count the two weeks Harper and Hudson had of 30 minutes a day swim classes at the Houston Swim Club back in the spring of 2011, after which neither of them could actually swim at all, and during which both of them became addicted to goggles (an addiction which is still entrenched today).

We started a homeschool gymnastics class today and it was terrific, mostly because all 3 kids will be meaningfully engaged in physical fitness for FOUR hours a week while I get to sit there and talk to friends or maybe read a book. The gym is 35 minutes from our house and I don't even mind. Because ALL THREE KIDS sweating and somersaulting and trampolining and having fun with other sweet kids for many hours under the same roof and I am not in charge. WINNING. Hudson's coach reminds me of Marta Karolyi. He is going to be doing a nice cartwheel within a couple of weeks out of sheer terror. Helena even gets to take a ballet class during the first hour. You can imagine that she put a great amount of thought and planning into which of her costumes she was going to wear. I was pleased that she chose an actual ballet practice leotard so that I did not have to crush her dreams before they even began to take flight.

The husband made a delicious tuna casserole for dinner last night. With actual tuna. Because we are nothing if not always surprising. And with that, good evening.

Messily bobbed.

Three posts in three days!

Here is a picture of my hair in its natural state:

Here is the new arrangement:
 

Some thoughts:

1. I have no idea how people get such cute pictures of themselves in their bathrooms. The light is weird and I could NOT figure out how to hold the camera. I am sure it is an art that takes many hours to perfect.

2. About 10 minutes before I left for my appointment, I decided to look on the computer and find a new haircut. I am not on Pinterest, but I went to the main page, typed in 'haircuts,' and found something on the first page called a Messy Bob. The girl in the photo seemed to have hair with a similar texture to mine, so when I got to the salon, I said to the stylist who, along with everyone else in the salon, spoke Vietnamese, "I will take a messy bob, please! And feel free to chop and chop."

I went to a salon my friend Araceli told me about where a haircut is $12. I wasn't especially nervous about this because I've had bad cheap haircuts before and they do, indeed, grow out. I do actually like this one, but I am not sure I will be able to break out of my twice a year haircut routine in order to keep it maintained. My favorite thing about it is that my hair is no longer on my neck making me feel like my neck is wrapped in a scratchy wool blanket in the 100 degree heat.

Today is my dad's 77th birthday! We love him. The kids are on the phone with him right now giggling like crazy. They think he is a comedian extraordinaire. Also, an excellent Giver of Hugs and an Exemplary Reader of Stories.
 

Begin again.

Technically, we started school last Monday. However, it was a rather ill-fated attempt because I was recovering from bronchitis, and under the influence of Many Pharmaceuticals. The bronchitis had been going on for weeks and I kept not going to the doctor because every morning I would wake up convinced that was the day I was better. Then night would come and the hacking hacking hacking wheezing hacking never sleeping. So I finally went to an urgent care clinic and they gave me an albuterol breathing treatment, a steroid shot, a round of antibiotics, some steroid nasal spray, and, for good measure, a week's worth of prednisone (another steroid). Down with thee, inflammation!! There were several days during which the 'roid jitters were way worse than the bronchitis ever was, but I think I am, at last, all better.

So, in hindsight, it was probably not the optimal environment in which to review grammar and also borrowing and carrying. There was a blank expression regarding "6+8" during which I lost all grace and decorum (did I also lose consciousness? perhaps.) and the poor pupil in question might never love math again.

We started back with Classical Conversations. I documented it.
 In which I attempted to follow the first rule of photography, even though our house faces due east and it was 8:15 am:

In which I decided to ignore the first rule of photography and got a much better shot.

Helena is in a class this year and the first day was a little wobbly. She does this thing where she pretends she is really shy and it involves trying to hide her entire body behind/underneath my body. It might appear to be cute. It is really not.It is especially disastrous if I am wearing a skirt or dress. I think she is just not quite ready for Charlemagne and the seven kinds of biomes and the eight parts of speech. Alas, she is along for the ride regardless. Maybe she will do better this week when I am not in there with her. Thankfully, her tutor is a very sweet mom of five who will, no doubt, know just how to handle her.

And  that is two days in a row!! What will the future bring?? Will I post selfies of my new (short!) hairdo? Will I finally post to the book blog? The suspense!!

Law enforcement

We were in the car and Hudson spotted a traffic infraction (one of his favorite pastimes), I believe it was a lane change without signaling, and this conversation happened:

Hudson: Oh HO. Look at that law breaker! People need to LEARN how to DRIVE properly.

Helena: YEAH. That BAD person should go to prison and JAIL!

Hudson: Well, you don't necessarily HAVE to go to jail for not using your signal. Jail is for really bad things.

Helena: what bad fings?

Hudson: (long pause) Things like...THEFT. Or destruction of PROPERTY.

I love that those are the two most heinous crimes he could think of. The bubble is intact!! Also, Peter Rabbit should totally be in prison.

We went to the zoo Friday.  It was HOT. Probably 99 degrees.  So hot that we were wilty before we even really started. So we ended up in the bird house fairly quickly because it is air-conditioned. My kids really love the bird house, not surprisingly. We were with the R's and I was enjoying some conversation with Mrs. R when I heard Asher say, rather off-handedy, "I don't like birds." It was like an atom bomb had gone off in the bird house, as far as my kids were concerned. They each handled his statement differently. For a moment, they all stared at him and made various exclamations of disbelief. Harper scowled, crossed her arms, and walked away from him. Turned her back on his heresy, if you will. I went over and whispered in her ear that it is not an actual CRIME to dislike birds. She went over and demanded to know WHAT animals he does like? "I like serpents!" he replied, cheerfully. Harper's face was a storm cloud. I went over for another whisper. "WELL," she barked, "I don't think you should like serpents better than birds because a serpent is what made people BAD." Rather than get into it with her, I said, "That wasn't really a serpent, but we can talk about that later." She then continued to make barbed comments about how "Some large water birds EAT serpents and so HAH." to which the ever patient Asher responded, appropriately, I might add, "So what?" Hudson, once he recovered from his initial shock at Asher's proclamation, followed him eagerly around the bird house trying to change his mind in a winsome manner: "what about the pretty birds Asher? Like scarlet tanagers! And manakins! You have to like those!" Helena kept saying, "What about parrots? They are pretty AND they TALK. You HAVE to like parrots!" Asher did finally concede (probably just to stop the berating) that he liked birds that were the colors of the Ninjago ninjas, but that was it. This answer was satisfactory to both Hudson and Helena, but I fear Harper is still holding a grudge.

I am going to try to write a little something every day this week, so stay tuned.

It's kind of a LOT of pressure

We decided to go to the pool at 4:45 today. We had been inside all day because we've had something every other day this week, and I needed to clean the bathroom and also plan out our schedule for the fall. "Mary Poppins" was watched. Pajamas were still on. At 4:45 in the afternoon. So, we walked to the pool. We got Hudson some flip-flops a month or so ago, and he still isn't used to walking in them. He kind of marches and picks up his entire foot and smacks it down flat. It amuses me.

We did not apply sunscreen. I sat on the side of the pool, in the shade, with a book. I read a few sentences, then put it down so I could watch the kids. Harper is really independent in the water now. I don't know that her form is especially conventional, but she is quick and sure. She loves her goggles that cover her nose. Hudson is independent too, but he still has moments that look a little too much like drowning. He also loves his goggles that cover his nose. Helena does not like to go underwater, so she wears a floatie unless I am in the pool with her. It is almost too small, so next summer she will have to learn to go underwater. She will be ready then.

Helena enjoys making friends at the pool. Today she was drawn to a large group of kids who were having a great time with a large ball. "They are very NOISY!" she complained. Then she sidled over (can you sidle in the water?) and started splashing them and shooting her water gun at them. They were old enough to be delighted instead of annoyed. I tried to figure out what language they were speaking. It was English, then it wasn't. One of the girls, who wasn't swimming, came and sat near me. I asked her if they were all brothers and sisters. She said four of them were her brothers and sisters, and the others were her cousins. "We just arrived from Nigeria," she told me. I asked about the language. "It's slang--Nigerian slang," she said. I asked if it has a name. "Pidgin, I guess," she responded. Then she asked why English here sounds so different than the English spoken in her country. I said I guessed it was because they learned to speak British English, and we speak American English. Then I corrected myself and confessed that we actually speak Texas English, which is an entirely different thing. She thought that was funny. She told me she was 14. She looked at me shyly and said she has never really talked to a white person before. She said, "I have never had a white friend." Well then, I replied, now you do. We will be friends. She smiled and clapped a little. I asked her name, and told her mine. "Party!" she exclaimed, and I did not correct her. Then she asked me what books I like to read ("I saw you reading your book and I knew then that you must love to read!") and if my kids like to watch Nickelodean. She told me there is a character on a show whose name is Harper. She said she liked my kids' hair, and that if they were in Nigeria everyone would want to touch it. She asked why my girls ears weren't pierced. She asked if we had air-conditioning in our house. She told me about the bribes they had to pay at the airport when they left Nigeria. She said everyone in Nigeria wishes they could come to America. She told me that at her school, the nuns whip the black kids but not the white kids because the white kids' parents complain when their kids get whipped. I asked where the white kids were from. She said, "I think Japan." She wants to be a doctor when she grows up. She said her brain does not work as well when she wears her glasses. "Do people wear their lenses in the pool here in America? I saw a man with his lenses on in the pool!" I told her my husband does not wear his glasses in the pool. She wondered why I didn't name either of my daughters after me. She said it is done very often in her country. She said her mother is pregnant with her sixth baby. She hopes it is a boy because her sisters talk too much. She asked me if I like snow or heat better. I told her it rarely snows in Houston, but that we enjoy it when it does. She lamented that it has never, not even once, snowed in Nigeria. Then it was time for them to go. She stood up very formally and stuck out her hand to shake mine. I shook her hand, then I gave her a hug. Even though I am not technically a hugger.

It's funny because on Saturday, we had a birthday party at a large church where there happened to be a Nigerian wedding happening at the same time. The ladies were finely arrayed. Helena was very intrigued by their finery. She noted that all of the wedding guests seemed to be fancy and also "brown." I reminded her that we are all sort of brownish, just in various shades. She wished she had worn one of her costumes and could go to the wedding. I told her maybe someday she would.

That is all. Now I won't forget my new friend.