Ima Hogg, are you?

We joined our friends Dexter and Wilson for a home school day at Bayou Bend today. I had never been before, though I had heard of the estimable Miss Ima Hogg and her lovely, antigues-laden home. We toured the house, Mrs. W and I wanting to ask many questions about Greek revival furniture and the portraiture of Gilbert Stuart, while the kids wondered inwardly if they would get in VERY much trouble if they climbed the 18th century highboy and leapt off, and also how much longer they would be required to stand still and quiet while the docent pointed out interesting aspects of the handpainted wallpaper. We finally got outside and the real fun began. There were clothes to wash in the good, old-fashioned way:Helena was such an eager washerwoman that she put her whole self in the washtub at one point.

There were yokes to be borne:

Dirty vegetable to be scrubbed clean:

Whining and scowling because our paper boat got soggy and sank and also because we didn't have a snack at precisely 10am:

Wobbly suspension bridges to traverse the bayou:


And lovely gardens in which to frolic after snacks had been eaten and moods lifted:

It was a very good morning and we shall return.

I'll leave you with a picture of Helena after I attempted to brush out her hair before washing it tonight:

Unchained melody

Two posts in two days! Howdy do!

I picked up a cheap bag of carrots at Randalls a few days ago, which I've been meaning to do for several months, so we could go and feed the horses that live on a greenbelt about a mile from us. I would remember to buy carrots every time I was at Whole Foods, but I refuse to pay that much for carrots that are going to be fed to animals that do not belong to me and who do not care one bit whether or not their carrots are infested with pesticides or grown in the shade or whatever. So this morning we packed up the carrots and we headed out; Harper and Hudson on their bikes while I pushed Helena in the stroller. Just as we got to the field, Hudson's chain fell off his bike. I tried to fix it while Harper and Hudson took some pictures:
I think that one is pretty nifty, actually. How did Hudson get the whole blurry background thing? And why will Harper smile for him and not me?
Harper goes more for the conceptual shot. The inside of Hudson's bike helmet:
The side of the trash can in the driveway where I was failing miserably at getting the chain back on:
I finally gave up and we fed the horses. They liked their cheap carrots:
Actually, this paint was really the only horse who would eat them. Maybe the others shop at Whole Foods:
"Harrumph. Is that pesticide I smell?"

I didn't get any good pictures of Helena because I was too afraid the horse might confuse her tiny arm with a carrot. But she had fun all the same:

Then all the carrots were gone and I had to break the news to Hudson that he would be walking his bike home and no amount of army man/ Bear Grylls pep talking could convince him that this was not all very upsetting, so after a couple of blocks I managed to balance his bike on the stroller handles and he trudged and whined and complained pretty much the whole way home. Which definitely made the 99 degrees feel at least 30 degrees hotter. But we made it and we are better for it and the husband is going to spend a little time this weekend teaching me how to get that chain back on.

There is no point to Wednesday

1.Today we were listening to a nursery rhymes cd that Helena loves and which the other two conspire to turn off at every opportunity until I have to use a Stern Voice and make Rigid Guidelines About No One Touching The CD Player Except For Mommy, NO EXCEPTIONS PERIOD, when Harper mused, "Why did Humpty Dumpty even sit on that wall? He should have just walked up to the top of the castle and looked around up there."

2. I came in on this scene yesterday, or was it Monday?:Harper had clicked herself into Helena's booster seat and was making sweeping and very bossy proclamations including telling Hudson that his thumb-sucking, blanket cuddling behavior was not welcome in her kingdom, and that Helena was not allowed to push her puppy in the stroller whilst wearing a princess costume:
Which Helena thought was very devastating news indeed.

3. Helena has a very teeny head. Not tiny enough, however to keep her from wedging it between her crib and the wall this afternoon while in pursuit of a puzzle. I have never heard such a cry. It was almost feral. Thankfully, release was quick and simple. I did not take a picture because I am not a monster, but here she is a little later feeling sad about something else:She then recovered from her great sadness and cleaned the floor with Harper's Cinderella dress which Harper refuses to wear because it is Very Scratchy:

4. I washed all the sheets on Monday and as I was putting them in the washer, I took note of the abomination of desolation that was Harper's room. If you are sensitive (or your name is My Husband) you might want to avert your gaze:


I like how Hudson and Helena are playing in there like it's no big deal that it is Absolute Squalor, and Harper was somewhere else entirely, denying the harsh reality that was the impending Pick It UP And NOW!

5. I have read several critically-lauded contemporary novels over the last couple of months and all of them (with the exception of Cutting for Stone, which I liked very, very much) have left me feeling like a tiny, forsaken Lego on the floor of Harper's room. Since when do hollow, aimless, often vile, self-absorbed humans make for compelling stories? They DON'T, that's what. I don't care if the critics really think that post-postmodernism (yep) is a laudable art form. Blech. I want a book to make me feel the way I felt the first time I read Pride and Prejudice or Gilead or Pilgrim at Tinker Creek or Watership Downor Cry, the Beloved Country. Dear Jonathan Franzen, I have given you two extremely long chances and I now bid you adieu. Freedom, my foot.

6. I am, however, considering giving the Harry Potter series another go. I started a few years ago and lost interest somewhere in the second book. Jamie is apparently reading them now (instead of blogging obviously) and she is generally my canary in the mine for those sorts of things. Would someone else like to make me care?

7. On the latest episode of "Man vs. Wild" Bear Grylls did something for which Harper may never forgive him. He ate a STINGRAY. I was folding clothes in the next room while they watched with the husband and she came in with her head down. "Did Bear just eat a stingray?" I asked. "He did. A blue spotted one," she answered quietly. I left her alone with her grief. Maybe I'll make some more cookies to cheer her:

8. We have entered Narnia at last. The husband has been reading The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe aloud at bedtime. They call the White Witch "WW" which I think is funny. I'm just glad they have another plot to discuss because I have heard more than any human ever really should about the antics of Lightning and Mater and Finn McMissile and Professor Z ad nauseum ad nauseum.

I am off to bed and really I hope to blog more this week and also to be cheerier.

What's the point of Wednesday

Experiencing much malaise, blog and otherwise. A few things to report, in no particular order:

1. I dropped Helena (bottom first, thankfully) into the toilet a couple of days ago. It turns out she really does need that little potty insert thing if she is going to sit on the big toilet. She didn't really seem to mind, other than repeating, "What happen to Laida Jane?" approximately 245 times while I rinsed her off in the shower. And no, there was nothing in the potty. And yes, we were at home. But STILL.

2. In other unsettling and unhygienic news, yesterday I was in the shower and I suddenly heard Harper and Hudson yelling louder than I thought was probably necessary to reenact the scene from "Cars 2" that they had been busy with when I had left them. Hudson came running in breathlessly to tell me that THERE WAS A ROACH IN THE RIDING ROOM (which is what we call our front room because it is largely devoid of furniture and there's room to ride scooters and tricycles and even, on occasion, bikes). Of course I had conditioner in my hair so I told him to go back and keep his eyes glued to the roach. He came wandering back in a couple of minutes later and I asked what part about eyes GLUED had he not understood and he said, as if he was thinking about something else of terrific import, "Oh, that roach? It's dead." So I came rushing out to find Harper standing in the front room with the spray bottle of 70% isopropyl alcohol (our insecticide of choice. It's like the Windex in "My Big Fat Greek Wedding"--the husband uses it for everything) and a rather smug expression. "Well, where is it?" I asked. And then I slipped in a large puddle of 70% isopropyl alcohol and almost fell to my death in my cheap flip-flops that I wear around the house. Harper said breezily, "I killed it, Mommy. I sprayed it and then I took a bunch of paper towels and smashed it and put it in the trash." Instead of thanking her or congratulating her on her (disgusting) achievement, I said, in a rather panicky voice, "Well, have you washed your HANDS?" and "Are you SURE it's dead??" She had, and she was. Well done, my intrepid girl. May it NEVER happen again.

3. Helena's multi-purpose phrase of choice these days is "What happened Mommy?" and she says it even when nothing has actually happened so I was saying, "Nothing happened, Mommy just put the spoon in the sink." I realized today that I need to leave off the "Nothing happened" part and just tell her what is going on. Even though it is exhausting beyond measure for an introvert like me to have to narrate my every move.

4. More great cousin time. More evidence that photographing groups of kids is a sisyphean task, not for the easily deterred:
Helena looks LONG, doesn't she? And I'm pretty sure that hand gesture Hudson is making is considered very rude in certain parts of southern Europe.

5. We had some fun at a new splash pad with the Browns this morning and it was funny because you know there is this horrible drought in Texas right now and it only rains about a milliliter every 6 months or so, but OF COURSE it came a deluge as we were trying to pack up and leave and as we were rushing to the car and I had far too many bags, I looked back to see that Helena had tripped and fallen in the dirt and was wailing because her shoe had fallen off. So I dumped the other kids and the bags into the car and ran back to get her, making the decision to run her back to the splash pad to rinse her off so as not to sully up the minivan. Only it was raining pretty hard and I couldn't really see because my sunglasses had fallen down awkwardly over my eyes and the orange towel I had draped over my head was also partially obscuring my sight so I stood directly over one of the jets of water, which then completely soaked my shorts and it's still pouring from the sky as well and yet somehow I can't manage to get the mud off of Helena and it was all pretty special. A very damp ride home during which Helena said, "WHAT HAPPENED MOMMY!!" about 68 times.

Hudson's heart

A couple of years ago, Hudson got to choose something from the gift shop at the Natural Science museum. I can't remember what he'd done to earn this special treat. I believe his maximum price point was a whopping $3. He chose this:
A red, polished stone, cut into a heart. He loved it and carried it in his pocket at all times, thus requiring that he always have pockets, which I remember caused a couple of petulant moments when, inevitably, all of his cargo shorts were in the hamper. I remember fearing that he would lose his heart and of course, after a couple of months, he did. Harper never loses anything because she is one of those kids who knows where every single tidbit is at all times. I will say, "I wonder where the tiny piece of Lego that connects the scoop to the backhoe is?" and she will chirp, "It's in the bottom of the striped bin, under the 'pig' rhyming card, next to the headless Polly Pocket in the back of my closet." It's eerie, but rather useful. She did not, sadly, have sufficient sonar to detect the heart because it did not belong to her. So, it remained lost. At first, Hudson would ask about it daily, and sometimes hourly: "Mommy, where is my heart?" and I would say, "I just don't know Hudson. Can't you remember?" No, he could not. We hunted for weeks and finally gave up. After many months, he finally stopped asking if I knew where his heart was.

Then LO, to celebrate our country's independence, guess what I found while digging for something behind the cushion of the big, red chair? I found Hudson's heart. There was tremendous celebrating and, but for the burn ban, we would have exploded some fireworks. His heart is now living on a shelf in Daddy's study, where he visits it and occasionally, gets it down for a pat, then puts it right back. Because it seems he has learned a lesson about losing his heart.

Today Hudson was being a little sillier than I thought appropriate whilst hashing through some complex theological ideas while he composed a new (and LOUD) song on his drums. He sang something that sounded like, "God is not the holy." So I gently told him that he needed to change his lyrics, because there are certain things that we don't act silly about. He then claimed that "It was Mr. Potato Head who was telling him that God was NOT the holy. But I told him that he was WRONG and that God IS the holy!" So, now, along with his other many transgressions, Mr. Potato Head is a heretic.

We went to a neighborhood parade yesterday. It was, frankly, pretty lame (lots of cars draped in streamers carrying political candidates and members of clubs I've never heard of) but I'm the only one who thought so and I did manage to take the requisite photos capturing the curb-side anticipation:

Harper's favorite was the orange beetle bug:

Hudson liked these cool motorcycle guys:
And Helena liked the firetrucks ("fow-wow tucks"), but also declared they were "Noisy."

My own heart was gladdened indeed on Thursday when two dear friends from college came to visit with their families in tow:Stacie and Kim (and their lovely spouses) are the best sort of friend--where conversations begun 20 years ago pick right back up with each sweet reunion.

(I just spent several minutes trying to fix the freaky eyes, to no avail. We'll just conclude that we had such a great time our eyes were shining and shooting out sparks.)

Also noteworthy this weekend: the husband took Harper and Hudson to see their very first movie in a theatre. It probably deserves a post of its own because, as with most things that most people think are no big deal at all, I have (and this will be SHOCKING NEWS) complicated feelings about it. But they had a dandy time.

May the fort be with you

A few months ago, Hudson got a Star Wars Lego book from the library and so began what is, apparently, an inevitable obsession. We're still several years from viewing the movies (though I believe they watched a few minutes with the Daddy when he happened upon one on cable a few days ago. Harper ran and hid, because she is extremely wary of potentially Scary Images) but that has deterred him not at ALL. He asks me questions for which I have no answers, since I haven't seen most of the movies, and the ones I have seen were not very interesting to me when I saw them in the late 1970's. So he'll ask many, many specific questions about Who Are the Bad Guys and Who Has a Knife and What Planet and How Many Guns and How Tall is Chewbacca and I just shrug and say I don't really know but that when he gets older he can watch the movies and find out all for himself. He says he'll watch when he is "around 17" and I say that sounds fine. Here's how he pronounced the characters he knows about so far (until Harper corrected him, and not very kindly):
1. Everyone Kenobi
2. Dark Vader (was Dark Mater, which, incidentally, I think would make a great sub-plot in the next "Cars" installment. I call trademark.)
3. Lute Stywalter
4. And of course, they all use their Life Savers to fight.

Actual interchange that occurred yesterday:

(LOUD YELLING.)
me: Harper, do you remember what I said about yelling?
Harper: You said no screaming.

If law schools offered early acceptance to 6 year olds, I'd enroll her right now.

While she was yelling, but not screaming, Hudson was playing his drums and singing a charming little ditty he calls the "I Smell Poo-poo Song!"

Also on yesterday's Best Things List was the fact that we went to the Children's Museum and we ended up downstairs because the whole place was pretty crowded and noisy. The kids played with the Legos and did a few experiments with the wind tunnels then we went into this obstacle course area, which I generally avoid because there is a Power Tower that is only for kids 5 and older, which means disappointing 2/3rds of my kids. I was lifting Helena over into this little obstacle course area when I realized that what I thought was a closed gate was actually quite open and it proceeded to swing open with me on top of it and I lost my balance completely and ended up folded over in a downward dog sort of pose (still dangling poor Helena) with my feet lifted off the ground and apparently I am top heavy because once I managed to get Helena on her feet I still couldn't get myself back upright. A nice lady came to help me and I was mortified and also felt as if I had sustained, at the least, a liver laceration, and also possibly some sort of aortic tear and maybe an aneurysm. My left arm is still tingling a little. And my pride is damaged beyond all repair.

Then today we stayed home and I tried doing math with Harper in the morning instead of when the other two are napping, which is when we usually do our reading and school time. It went okay but not great. Helena played nicely with the counting bears for about 10 minutes, then she spread the transportation counters all over the floor, and got very intent on knocking down the counting blocks Harper was using for her lesson.

Then Harper and Hudson built a fort and Harper used this pink embroidery thread to create a spider web for "trapping naughty Helena Janes":Which, incidentally, might make a slightly less heartwarming sequel to Charlotte's Web.

Then, while I made dinner, Harper practiced skating in the kitchen WHILE playing a never-ending loop of "The Ants Go Marching" on her kazoo, WHILE ALSO keeping time by banging a hammer on a metal coffee can, while Hudson drummed and then did a little soft shoe and then practiced dribbling his basketball then played a twangy little something on the one string left on his guitar:


Enormous thanks to the Grandparents Pate who spent the weekend braving this madness so the husband and I could go to a wedding in Dallas. The homecoming is always sweet. So very, very loud, but sweet all the same.

What's your point? Wednesday

I skipped last week. We took a short trip to Port Neches and I didn't take my computer because I decided a little technology hiatus might do me good. And aside from an annoyingly full email inbox when I got home, I see no drawbacks. I finished my book, I went to bed at a fairly respectable hour, and I rode the old bike. I did watch about one too many episodes of "House Hunters International" but a girl can only surrender so much at once.

It is raining here in Houston today. Which is really good news for the poor, parched earth, but really scary news for me, because the last rain 6 weeks or so ago seemed to be some sort of Special Roach Invitation to Come On Inside. There are many things about roaches I don't understand: where do they GO during the day? where do they go when I don't see them for weeks on end? why do they come inside when it rains even though there is a DROUGHT and they have to be thirsty? why do those enormous ones have The Gift of Flight when humans do not?

Speaking of entomology, Harper and Hudson have also of late decided they are very interested in the confusingly similar ETymology. "Mommy, why are cars called cars? Mommy, why are chairs called chairs? Mommy, why are croissants called croissants? Mommy, why is water called water? Mommy why are bugs called bugs? Mommy why is cereal called cereal?" It is never-ending. If I happen to know the etymology, I'll tell them, but usually I don't, so I just say, in as bright a voice as I can manage, "I don't know! Someday you can study that and FIND OUT!"

Hudson has become quite a theologian. This morning in the car he asked, "What is a miracle?" So I said it was something that happens even though we think it is impossible. I told him that Jesus performed many miracles. I gave a few examples. He thought for a moment then said, "God is invisible." Yes, I said. "And he lives forever." That is correct, I affirmed. "But we can SEE the things he DOES." Correct. "And Jesus could walk through walls." Yes, that was a miracle, I said. "He can also walk on water. I think Jesus was...nice." I assured him that indeed Jesus was the nicest man who ever lived. Then he said, "Look! An armored truck! The driver has a gun." A few days ago we had a big conversation about WHY armored truck drivers need guns and I told them it's because some people are too lazy to work for money and instead decide to steal it, and that they are sometimes willing to hurt people to get what they want. We then had a really good conversation about how bad guys can also, on occasion, make good choices, and that, conversely, good guys, on occasion, can make bad choices. Except Jesus. All good choices. Hudson, it should be noted, took all of his nice catechism answers and acted like a character in Lord of the Flies (and not Ralph or Piggy) for the next two hours at the museum with our friends. So.

Harper, meanwhile, is learning to skate, and is also learning to blame everyone and everything except herself whenever she commits any transgression at all. It is sadly familiar. But the skating is great. Unless she falls, then she blames it on someone or something else. She fell this morning and blamed it on the dog hair on the kitchen floor that I had neglected to mop.

Harper and Hudson have been getting along really well these days. I look back at old blog posts and realize I need to be thankful. Now, if they could manage to include Helena in their goodwill, I would have nothing else to vex me. Except the Smell in our house right now. And presidential politics. And this whole sunblock debate. And lower case letters and how Harper can't be bothered to write them correctly. And potty training. And the fact that we eat the same things over and over. And, and, and.

The dog no longer JUST sleeps on the bed with us. She burrows UNDER the covers and either drapes herself on whomever is willing (hint: it is NOT me) or she curls into a tight ball right between us, not caring one bit if she is smashed. I have decided she will not be completely content until we either INGEST her or perhaps make her into one of those fox stoles that the ladies used to wear draped around their necks.

We had great cousin time this weekend. My oldest niece turned 8 and she is becoming such a gracious and kind young lady. She savored the opening of each gift, and was visibly delighted and grateful with every one, large and small. She even read the cards!! The kids were given free reign of Aunt Cynthia's tomato garden and they ate and ate and ate, including Helena, who discovered quickly that green tomatoes are not grapes, as she had suspected.

Grandfather Pate + a good book + some fingers and a thumb = pure contentment:


That will be all.