Rounds and finery and feasting

The past three nights Hudson has wedged himself into the chair and joined Helena and me for our evening rock. We have sung "Row, row, row your boat" and Hudson is determined to sing it round-style so I have him start and Helena usually chimes in with him, but inevitably when I start in, they lose their words and join mine. It's cute. Harper does not like to feel crowded so she retires to her room and probably wishes she didn't mind being crowded quite so much. Tonight Sasha even joined us. She does not mind being crowded ever. Based on the feral howl she emits when we leave her home alone (the one a neighbor overheard a few weeks ago which caused him to come over, and with great concern, ask after her. I assured him that though one might think from the sound of it that she was caught in a bear trap, her anguish is purely emotional) I think she might have a nice singing voice if she ever decides to join in.

On the subject of rounds, Helena has learned to catch a ball. She enjoys this activity heartily and would do it for many many hours at a time if she had a willing partner. Since there is only one partner who is willing to toss the ball very lightly directly into her outstretched arms, and then not mind at all if it takes her a minute or two to finally get around to tossing it back, and since that partner is generally needing to unload the dishwasher or get dinner started, she gets about 10 minutes a day, if she is lucky.

We went to the magical indoor playscape this morning, and Harper at one point had 5 other kids following her around and she said, in a very authoritative voice, "NOW, we will Have School." and they all sat very politely in a little circle around her and turned their faces upward. I was VERY curious as to what might come out next--would she teach them the Greek alphabet? Would she explain the meaning of 'soporific' as it is used in the opening lines of "The Flopsy Bunnies"? She paused, rather dramatically, and said, "WELL, then, it is TIME for recess!" I realize this is not a direct indictment against our rather laid-back approach to schooling at this point, but it felt a little like that. I am finally reading Susan Wise Bauer's book on the classical education at home. It's inspiring, but rather daunting. TIME for recess, indeed.

'Tis the season for kids to refuse to pose for photographs while dressed in cute clothes:


I wore my wedding dress to church. I think it's the third time I've worn it on Easter since we got married. I like the symbolism.

And as for the feasting, we three moms of our Wednesday play group had a lovely evening out, sponsored by Mrs. B's father-in-law as a going away gift. We dined at a restaurant called Feast and shared delicious food, delightfully uninterrupted conversation, and later, an enormous piece of chocolate cake. Sweet times.

What's your point? Wednesday

My friend Jamie wants to be famous (unlike Ross King, who wanted to make GOD famous. No judgment.) So, in honor of not having a point, here are some completely unrelated things that have happened in the past 24 hours. Hudson got down his little handwriting workbook (purchased at that venerable curriculum source also known as the Dollar Spot at Target) this morning, put on these fake headphones that I think came with one of those extremely cheap plastic sets of Policeman Gear, and made a loud (actually, it was a little rude) announcement that we all needed to Quiet Down Because He Needed To Concentrate. Which was funny considering Harper was doing something very quiet in her room and I was changing Helena's diaper which, THANKFULLY, is not usually a noisy undertaking. Senses are assaulted for sure, but not usually anyone's hearing. Anyway, he did consent to a very quiet photo session:

Helena was a little bit of a rascal today. She is very fast and likes nothing better than stealing, for example, sippy cups and snacks that do not belong to her. So sorry to you Adelaide, Aiken, little girl at the park with the Happy Meal, and other little girl at the other park with the Dora sippy cup. However, when I go get her in the morning (at 8:30, mind you!) she is usually doing this:
I noticed the other day that sometimes if she's feeling a little sleepy when she is playing in her room, she will go over and stick her right hand through the slats of her crib, pinch a bit of gingham sheet and pop her fingers in her mouth for a minute. It's a good thing she does extremely adorable things like that or I might not be so forgiving with all of the theft issues and general mischief. But really:


This girl is reading up a storm. She is recently very taken with the Mr. Putter and Tabby series by Cynthia Rylant. I actually enjoy them too. We also discovered two new books for me to read to her in which a stuffed stingray plays a major role, and there was great gnashing of teeth when we had to return them to the library today. Frankly, I was ready. We have had them for the maximum six weeks and have read them through multiple times. They are very cleverly written though, and who would have ever imagined another little girl who dearly loves a plush stingray?? King Solomon, that's who. Nothing new under the sun etc. The titles are Toys Go Out: Being the Adventures of a Knowledgeable Stingray, a Toughy Little Buffalo, and Someone Called Plastic, and Toy Dance Party: Being the Further Adventures of a Bossyboots Stingray, a Courageous Buffalo, and a Hopeful Round Someone Called Plastic. I had to edit out a few things because they are geared toward slightly older kids. Also, the StingRay in the books is a girl, and Harper insisted that I change all of the female pronouns to male, because her stingray, Stingray-ee, is a boy (even if he does wear red pajamas with tiny hearts on them that are a touch too snug) That got pretty confusing, and she would correct me every single time if I slipped up and said "she" or "her" accidentally. Harper also brought Stingray-ee to church last Sunday morning and she dressed him up by putting a tiny little argyle sock on his tail, and tying on a bow-tie, which I thought was very reverent. She's a funny kid. She got the camera and took this picture at the park awhile back:

And, with a photo, taken by a 5 year old, of a stuffed stingray basking in the sun on a boulder at the park, I bring What's Your Point? Wednesday to a close.

Observant

I realized, when I saw many, many yarmulkes at Target today, that tomorrow is Passover. Our Target is in what I suppose is the epicenter of Judaism in Houston. The family behind us in line had 4 extremely adorable, modestly dressed,well-behaved kids, and the mom had on the cutest, most natural looking wig I've ever seen. I felt dumb buying the egg dyeing kits and 2 dozen eggs that were the purpose of our trip (we are having some friends over tomorrow for Easter Fun). I wanted to say something like, "I really do hate how Easter and Christmas have been hijacked by Commercialism and Schmaltz and Candy and bunnies and Santa. I really wish we in Christendom did a better job of combating it and instead truly observed Lent and Advent and truly and joyfully and abundantly celebrated the birth and death and resurrection. I believe Jesus was who he said he was! I believe he died and rose again! I believe it has nothing to do with baskets or chocolate or fancy clothes! And yet, yes, if you look in my basket you will see that I let my son choose a dye kit and it is "Star Wars" themed, even though he has never actually seen "Star Wars." So, while you ponder anew the matzoh and the bitter herbs, we'll be putting Luke Skywalker stickers on these cheap eggs which I can guarantee you at $1.19 are NOT kosher."

Remember how loud it is in my head? Loud.

Speaking of resurrection, we looked at some houses this weekend. We drove out to the suburbs and found new houses we can almost afford. The siren song is strong. The model homes were so sparkling clean and well-planned. The insulation! The space! No Strange Smells! The shiny appliances! The mold-free grout! The huge windows, perfectly placed! One of the models even had a shared play area outside of the kids' bedrooms that was set up as a school room! Perfection! But, then you walk outside and it's identical houses and sidewalks for millions of miles in every direction. The trees are tiny and won't offer shade for another 20 years. We are in the car for a very long time to get back to the city. Many miles to go. So then on Sunday, the pastor at Ecclesia reminded me that he and his family bought a house in a rather blighted area of Houston that got left behind when everyone decided to cut their losses and head for the shiny new houses in the suburbs. These are big houses, and well-built. With beautiful shade trees! And cheap! We saw a 4 bedroom, 3,500 square foot house for $115,000!! It backs up to the abandoned golf course and its abandoned country club which has recently, after much lobbying by the steadfast residents, been purchased by the city to turn into green space and retention ponds. Hope! Alas, there is not a single recognizable grocery store or any other familiar franchise for many miles around. Crime, I suspect, is near and unavoidable. Do we dare? To reclaim the blighted? It is so much easier to start new. I just realized you can make the metaphor spiritual either way. Blast it.

Plus our dear friends the B's are moving to Dallas and the change might do me in. It's inevitable but that doesn't mean I have to like it. Bah.

Be thou my...no

I'm going to try to start posting more tid-bitty things about the kids that I will forget otherwise. Like just now when I was putting Helena to bed, we read our three books and she then commanded me to "rock and songs." And she will nestle in and I will ask her what song she wants to sing and she will say, "pum pum pum pum," because she loves The Little Drummer Boy as illustrated by Ezra Jack Keats lately. So I will begin, in my not lovely not quite soprano not quite alto not quite on key voice, "Come, they told me, pah-rum-pah-pum-pum, the newborn king to.." and she will interrupt with a quiet, "no." So I will say, "Which song next?" and she will give me no guidance so I will begin:

"All creatures of our God and.." Helena interrupts quietly: "no."

"Rock-a-by bay.." Helena: "no."

"How deep the Father's love for.." Helena: "no"

"Come thou fount of every.." "no."

"Supercalifragilisticexspialla.." "no."

"The sun'll come out tomor.." "no."

"O the deep, deep love of Jes.." "no."

"Behold what manner of love the Fath.." "no."

"Here we go round the mulberry.." "no."

"Crown Him with many Crown.." "no."

"Maybe far away, or maybe real near.." "no."

"It's a hard knock life, for.." "no."

"All around the cathedral the saints and apost.." "no."

"Polly put the kettle.." "no."

"Row, row, row your.." "no."

"Seek ye first the kingdom of.." "no."

"O lord, you are beautiful, your face is.." "no."

"There is a redeemer, Jesus.." "no."

"The wheels on the bus go round and round, round and round, round and round, the wheels on the bus go round and round, all through the town. The door on the bus goes open and shut, open and shut, open and shut, the door on the bus goes open and shut, all through the town. The windows on the bus go up and down, up and down, up and down, the windows on the bus go up and down, all through the town. The people on the bus go bumpity bump.." (and finally, finally, finally) "no."

So, she rejected several great hymns, "Mary Poppins," "Annie," "My Fair Lady," AND KEITH GREEN! and "The Wheels on the Bus" merits THREE and a HALF verses?? I cut her off at that point and put her little self right to bed, because there are many things I will tolerate as a parent, but poor taste in music is not one of them.

She is the third kid in this family to wear these Converse high tops.

We also paid $5 and fed giraffes at the zoo today. And the weather is sublime.

And this is the face Harper makes when I try to take a picture these days:


And this is Hudson doing some karate:

bespectacled, besmirched

Helena became very attached to Mister Potato Head's glasses this weekend.


She was actually enjoying a book whilst sitting on the potty in that one. She has made deposits both primary and secondary in the potty, but I'm not quite ready to ditch the diapers just yet. The good news is, she doesn't seem to have a strong opinion about it one way or the other. Maybe next month we'll commit to a few days at home to finish the deed.

My favorite mispronunciation of hers right now is "bubbin" for "button." And she does this very cute little hand motion when asking where something is. She cups her right hand and gently places it in her cupped left hand while asking, "Where Daddy? Where Sashi? Where Ah-poo? Where Hutsen?" She has changed her pronunciation of her name too. It was "Yah-yeh" and now it's "Laida-jane."

The big kids have decided that the source of all mischief and maladjusted behavior in our home is the fault of Mister Potato Head, incidentally. I do not think it has any thing to do with him losing his glasses. In fact, I haven't actually seen the real Mister Potato Head for a couple of months. The spirit of Mister Potato Head, however, is the subject of much blame and admonition. He prompts otherwise well-behaved children to whine, take things from their siblings, and forget to put their clothes in the hamper. He is the subject of ridicule ("Mister Potato head is a BABY who can't even RIDE a tricycle or eat without a BIB! Also he doesn't get lollipops!") and, if I didn't know better, I might think that Mister Potato Head has become something of a proxy for a certain small sister who used to bear an unfair amount of negative commentary until a certain mother issued a cease and desist.

In the spirit of full disclosure, the kids watched an entire hour of "Little Bear" this morning while I got the sheets washed and the toilets and sinks cleaned. And even though I had that hour of relative quiet, I still found myself yelling, "SHUT UP, SHUT UP, SHUT UP!!" in my head (thankfully, I do seem to be able to keep it in my head, which is good for them, but equally destructive to my soul) on several occasions as the morning progressed and there was bickering and whining and drumming without end. But at least the toilets and sheets and sinks are clean, right?

Balanced

Notice anything missing in this picture?


It's certainly not a single piece of safety equipment. No! It's training wheels. Look at her go:


She's pretty steady on the straights, and can stop with confidence. Starting is still a touch shaky, so we won't be trying any group bike rides just yet, but it won't be long. I didn't cry when I saw her doing it, but I wanted to a little. It's a big deal.

The husband found that cowboy hat in the "Thelma and Louise" prop room apparently, and when he walked out with it on, the dog barked at him like she'd gone rabid until he started talking to her and she finally realized that even though there was a crazy hat stranger in her house, the Daddy person was IN there somewhere. It was fairly hilarious.

Roly, Poly, Mashy, Mooshy, Table, Metal, Hook, Stump, Grass, Weed, Rock, Stick, Mud and Tiny are the names of the roly-polies and snails Harper and Hudson collected in our back yard yesterday. They are housed in a plastic container with lots of grass and dead leaves and their every move is narrated in breathless detail. Frankly, after spending all day at home today listening to said narration, I am ready to dump them out after everyone goes to bed just so the neverending story will end. I am mean in my heart.

Super heroic

When Grandmother Pate came to see us a few weeks ago, she brought some surprises. Chief among them:



My favorite thing is when he imagines scenarios in which he is wearing the costume and happens to run into someone he hasn't seen in awhile. It goes like this:

Hudson: I walk in and see Grandfather Pate and he says (voice full of wonderment, amazement, awe) "Is THAT BATMAN???" And then I say. "YES, I AM Batman!" and then Grandfather Pate says, "I didn't know Batman WAS here and can I see his Batman Motorcycle?" and then I say, "Sure!" and I show it to him. Does Batman have knives?

me: I don't know for sure, but probably. I know he has lots of gear and cool stuff.

Hudson: Does Batman have lots of guns?

me: Oh, probably. I know he has a nifty car and there's probably a gun on there somewhere.

Hudson: Does he SHOOT the bats?

me: Well, no. He kind of ACTS like a bat, I guess. (I see him pondering this because the only bats he knows about are the tiny ones at the zoo that hang upside down and occasionally fly over to nibble on bits of cantaloupe that hang from a rope in their habitat.)

Hudson: Here's what Batman does: he shoots his gun and cuts things down with his knife.

Ok, then. If anyone needs any of that done around their house, you should definitely let Batman know.