Free market musings

Now, that is a scintillating title, is it not? This post is going to be a touch random, so I will start with the most important thing.

1. My friend Jamie is now an ambassador for Noonday Collection. If you don't know about it, you should. Women in the third world are being taught a trade, are being fairly compensated for their beautiful and unique work, and we get to play a part WHILE looking cute. Winning, all around.

2. I was remembering a visit I made to my friend Yvonne of Great Britain circa 1996, and I saw several posters on a bulletin board at her church encouraging Christians to buy fairly traded products. This is the first time I had ever heard of this concept, and my comment at the time was something like, "I just don't think Americans, even American Christians, will ever pay more money for a product just because it's helping people. We are too obsessed with bargains." I think that now, a mere 16 years later, there might have been a small shift in our attitude. Or maybe it's just the people I hang around with. Anyway, England had it figured out first. So, cheers.

3. I am so disgusted with the money that's being raised and spent on this presidential campaign. If a candidate were actually doing a good job, maybe it would not cost one BILLION dollars to convince people otherwise.

4. The husband got home late last night and spent approximately 30 minutes of his life, that he will never get back, trying to explain to me the concept of ceilings and floors as they relate to some economic concept that was on a test he'd just given to his students. I warned him that I have never been able to get my head wrapped around the subtleties of economic theory, but bless him, he tried so hard.

5. Harper yanked out her very own tooth last night. The husband was away, and he is the resident tooth puller. I told her that I would try, but that the whole thing makes me a little queasy. She had mercy on me and did it herself. The tooth fairy rewarded her with two dollar coins, instead of the usual one, for her bravery and gumption. 

6. Hudson, after several weeks of practice, is now able to expertly coordinate his arms and feet in order to perform an excellent jumping jack. I realized he needed some help after his first Taekwondo class. He looked like a marionette being operated by someone being repeatedly stung by hornets. Now? He looks like a cadet, much to his great pleasure.

7. Helena, when she is needing a little alone time in the bathroom will say, "May I please have some piracy?"

8. Well, we just got home from Walmart, where we bought supplies to make play-doh because apparently, today is National Play-doh Day. Do I want to make play-doh? I emphatically do NOT. Maybe we'll read the Constitution aloud while we squish our play-doh, because we didn't duly celebrate yesterday.

9. There is an article in the Wall Street Journal (September 12--because "news" is a relative term) about how Lululemon is suing Calvin Klein for stealing their patented formula for yoga pants and having the audacity to pretend they only cost $19.99, instead of the $98 Lululemon insists they are worth. The title of the article is "Downward Docket: The Yoga Pants War," which I thought was clever. Also, dear husband, is this a floor or a ceiling??

That will be all. The play-doh awaits.

Into the great wide open

I'm having some adjustment issues with the "home" part of homeschooling. So, I pat myself on the back with how proud Charlotte Mason would be, and we head outside.

We fed the ducks and went to the zoo on Wednesday. The Hermann Park ducks and geese were all looking a little rough, as though they might be trying to fit in with the homeless guys napping on the picnic tables.

I paid the extra money to walk through the animatronic dinosaur exhibit, because we hadn't done it all summer. The dinosaurs move and make noises and the kids giggled nervously and kept reminding each other that "they aren't really REAL because everyone know dinosaurs are extinct. Right?"

I caught a little bit of a movie called "Creation" about Charles and Emma Darwin last night. There was a scene in which their daughter Anna had to kneel on rock salt as punishment because she insisted to their local vicar that dinosaurs had indeed existed. It was thought provoking, and I might watch the whole thing at some point.

We took a break from the Great Church Hunt of 2012 (we've visited six different churches since we moved in June and I am all ready to just pick a place to settle. It's been encouraging to see the depth and breadth of the body of Christ, but the thought of putting forth the energy to build meaningful relationships with a whole bunch of new people is almost debilitating. So Sunday morning we got up and didn't quite make it out the door in time to make it to the church we've gone to the past two Sundays, so we decided to drive out to Brazos Bend State Park instead. We went to the woods because we wished to live deliberately, and all that. We saw an alligator in the river, and there were lots of these blue dragonflies. Harper and Hudson were allowed to carry their real knives on their belts. There was lots of Spanish moss draped on the trees. Helena was draped in Mardi Gras beads.

I am realizing some things about myself as we try to find a church. I remember reading a couple of years ago that Francis Chan's church worships in this outdoor pavilion thing (in part to avoid the exorbitant cost of a big building), an idea which pleased me greatly. Of course, that makes much better sense when one lives in San Diego (is that where his church is? It is someplace with Edenic temperatures year around, I'm pretty sure) and not Houston. But I love when a sanctuary is lit with natural light; when I can look outside and remember that we are a separate peace, but that we are still in the midst of the world. We don't have to worship in a dark cave. We are free to be seen and to see. I was listening to Rick Steves' radio show on NPR a few weeks ago and he was talking to some Europeans and asking them their thoughts on traveling in America, and one of them said our national parks are like our cathedrals. I think that's pretty profound. I think it's easier to remember what the heavens are declaring when you can actually see the heavens. God made alligators and Great White Herons and blue dragonflies and gigantic Cross spiders that are six inches across! He gave you eyes that can see and ears that hear and legs that hike and lungs that breathe deep. Sing halleluia! (Or maybe complain that you are tired of walking and that you wish we could stop in the gift shop. For a minute there, I was Ann Voskampian. Then my kids started talking and interrupted my ode.)

Anyway, if anyone knows of a liturgical church, preferably within walking distance to our house, with music that is heavy on cello and violin and ancient hymns, teaching that is expository and utilizes only original metaphors, people who are genuine, windows that are large (metaphorically, but also literally), ministry that is focused on the least...that about does it. Maybe you'll let me know? We are willing to surrender our weapons, if need be. Excepting our swords, naturally.

First things

Hudson did the slide at the pool and got to the side all by himself last weekend. SANS flotation device. It isn't pretty, but he did not drown.

Harper had her first real haircut Saturday, and then we spent the morning together and she paid $17 of her own money on a book about the periodic table she had seen and fallen in love with a couple of weeks ago. It came with a free flashlight that projects 4 different constellations on the ceiling, including Casseopeia and Pegasus. I think it might have to be confiscated lest she and Hudson never get to sleep with all of the faux star gazing. Also, we've just started reading Mary Poppins out loud which invites giggling and other shenanigans. Because perhaps if there is sufficient giggling, we might all float up to the ceiling and have our tea.

We've been concentrating on the work of school a bit more, and we've had one good day and one not so great day. Helena is actually surprising me with her ability to play with math manipulatives in an appropriate way for a rather long period of time while I focus on the other two kids. She enjoyed sorting the counting bears by colors today. And she also practiced writing some very wiggly 'H''s in the dry erase book.  Hudson is doing great with his reading lessons. His handwriting is also improving. Harper is determined to learn cursive because her friends in our co-op learned over the summer. She started weeping today after lunch when she couldn't perfect the drawing of the oriole she was working on. Which, granted, is tragic. I gently removed the offending drawing, and suggested she might need to focus on something else for a few minutes. A little while later, Helena was weeping because she couldn't seem to get her ballet costume and tap shoes on fast enough in order to dance along with the Beatrix Potter ballet DVD. Also very tragic. Then the dog started barking at me for no reason. And now she is squished into this small chair next to me sleeping and pretending none of it ever happened.

We took a family bike ride yesterday morning. Helena rides facing forward on this little seat on the front of my bike and gives running commentary on everything she sees, while occasionally calling back to me to make sure I am still there, awkwardly pedaling with my knees at a bizarre angle.

A friend told me this weekend how much better she is feeling on a gluten-free, dairy-free diet. I'd be willing to try it, except that every single thing I ate today (with the exception of the not quite ripe cantaloupe we ate with lunch which perhaps would have tasted better with a little gluten and/or dairy) was loaded with gluten and/or dairy and I really can't imagine such a radical shift. Plus no ice cream. Or cheese! Or sandwiches! That really is tragic.

Errors of comedy

I wonder if anyone can tell me what to do with children when they are going through that rather spastic phase in which they find "comedy" in exaggerated pratfalls, extremely loud silly voices, strange facial expressions, and the telling of bizarre stories (usually told in the aforementioned loud silly voice) that have no decipherable plot, and in which the characters tend to be annoying, in a way that is eerily similar to the storyteller.

I do not enjoy this phase. I want this phase to end, and end quickly.

And yet, I understand that some (is it most? It isn't all, I don't think) kids need this phase, and that they are just learning independence and figuring out their personalities, and that this can be a little messy and noisy.  So I try to let them run and play outside, where they should be allowed to be as boisterous as they need to be, and I can sit at a distance and not be bothered. I try to give gentle reminders about self-control and appropriate behaviors in certain places, and being able to figure that out by themselves without needing a stern look or word from an adult.

I dislike the phrase, "kids will be kids" and its variations. Because people seem to use it when kids are being the kinds of kids that are loud and rambunctious and shrill. When did that become acceptable kid behavior? Are we supposed to let it go as long as no one (or nothing) gets hurt?

I'm mostly trying redirection when I have reached the end of my ability to tolerate (which, because of our frequent togetherness, happens pretty quickly), but I do wonder if I'm stifling something that needs to be allowed. Feel free to tell me that your own kids outgrew this phase in 1-2 weeks, and emerged from it with a fully formed wit, with just the right touch of sophisticated irony, and perhaps even the ability to incorporate a delightful pun on occasion.

On a more positive note, we are just home for a trip to visit the grandparents to celebrate my dad's birthday. My kids delight in Grandfather Pate, and he delights in them. One thing I noticed in particular on this trip was how much fun he has reading to them. He seems to find something new to enjoy even in books he's probably read at least 50 times. He's extremely patient, he answers all of their (mostly Helena) detailed questions about each picture, and he giggles and chuckles and adds commentary, so that even the shortest book ends up taking about half an hour to get through. Here he is, our very own Seventy-Sixer:

Here we go marching rattley bang

Helena's favorite book this week has been A Baby Sister for Frances by Russell and Lillian Hoban. You probably know Frances. She is a sassy badger who is wont to make up clever little songs to express her feelings (about eggs, little sisters, and mothers who sometimes forget to buy raisins) and is the character in children's literature I probably most readily identify with. In A Baby Sister for Frances,  she is feeling a touch neglected after the arrival of her baby sister, Gloria. She is under the kitchen sink singing one of her little songs and realizes that her parents aren't responding in quite the way she thinks they should, so she tries a new tactic. She goes to her room and gets an empty metal coffee can, which she then fills with some gravel she was keeping for just such a time as this. Then she comes out of her room, rattling her can and singing, "Here we go marching, RATTLEY BANG!"

I feel like doing that sometimes.

We went to a back-to-school thing at the husband's school last week. This first one would have probably made it on the Christmas card this year, if only the sweet girl who offered to take the picture had actually focused the camera first. Ah, well. That pretty girl in the middle is Keza, the mascot:

This was also the night we realized the husband of a certain VERY FAMOUS gymnast from the 1984 Olympics (Carrie! I know you know) is going to be coaching football at HBU. Several of the other professors' wives and I are already creating elaborate scenarios through which we can "accidentally" meet our childhood heroine and make her our BFF, and also have her introduce us to Bela Karolyi.

We have our first day of Classical Conversations tomorrow, which means we have to wake up early and get dressed in presentable clothes and shoes and pack our lunches and our backpacks while maintaining happy hearts and gentle dispositions.The kids are going to be taking an art class in the afternoon, and then Hudson is going to have an hour of Taekwondo. He is very excited about this endeavor, and is pretty sure he will be breaking boards with his pinky on the very first day. He is also super fast on his bike these days, now that the weather is cool enough after dinner to go ride around the cul-de-sac.

Harper has decided she is going to be a scientist who develops droids when she grow up. Until then, she has "created" Hudson the Helpful Droid who, in spite of his inherent freedom, is often willing to do his sister's bidding while using a mechanical voice. When he is not in the mood to be a droid, I notice that she has started using flattery to get him to help her do things. She actually said, "Hudson! you are so big and strong I just know you can carry those blocks upstairs for me!" I fear there will be a real need to put her in some sort of locked tower when she is a teen-ager.

While they were riding bikes a couple of nights ago, Harper said to Hudson, "Let's play follow the leader!" and I knew with 100% certainty (a truism, if you will) what her next sentence would be:
"I will be the leader!" and he, in his infinite good-nature, always replies, "OKAY!"

We went to this restaurant called Ruggles Green last night and there is a big, rectangular grassy area for kids to play outside. It makes finishing one's dinner a little challenging. I showed Hudson how to hike (is this the right word?) a football through his legs and then run so I could throw him the ball. I've just begun watching "Friday Night Lights" on Netflix, and that definitely had something to do with it.I think I even directly quoted Coach Taylor at one point. I need to write an entire post about FNL. I have opinions. MANY. Clear eyes, full hearts, much weeping.

Helena looks really cute when she runs. She does this funny thing with her arms so that her fists end up curled under her armpits and her elbows kind of swing wildly like chicken wings.

I think that will be all for today.

RATTLEY BANG.

What they draw

I meant to mention that we went to a pool with a diving board last Wednesday (a first) and, inspired by the platform and springboard events she'd watched the night before, Harper dove (which was much more of a belly flop, even though she was convinced she was diving perfection) and did front flips off of it again and again. I can't believe that at the start of the summer she couldn't really swim independently, and now she is so fearless (if slightly dependent on her nose clip). The other two weren't allowed to go off the board with their flotation devices, but maybe next summer. Speaking of Olympic inspiration, I asked Harper this morning which sport she thinks she would like to get really good at and she said rhythmic gymnastics. She has been pouncing and stalking rather dramatically around the house with her hula hoop and also her long ribbon, given to us many years ago by the B's (the original stick is missing, but Harper has tied it to one of Hudson's drumsticks). Hudson thinks maybe he might want to be a modern pentathalete, what with all of his fencing, shooting, running, swimming and horse jumping skills. It's rather Mr. Darcy, as sports go, so I would support him in that endeavor.

This summer is slipping by so quickly, and I was trying to think about what we've done when we have been at home. The kids have drawn for many happy, quiet hours. Here is a sample of what Hudson spends most of his time on. You'll notice that, similar to Rembrandt in his childhood drawings, the theme is consistently STAR WARS. The bad guys have the "V" eyebrows on their forehead, just like in real life:

 This one came from Sunday school. It reads, "Draw a picture of yourself thanking God for his help," and so Hudson, just as Daniel or Moses might have done during Old Testament times, chose to draw himself with his light saber raised high in praise.

.

 

Harper spent an hour upstairs drawing this amazing Great Blue Heron. She used  one of our Draw Write Now books (do you know about these? They are neat.) to guide her:

Helena still isn't very interested in drawing. She'll scribble or paint for about 10-15 minutes, and then she'll go about some other business. Being very cute is a talent in and of itself, I hear.

What we read before bed last night

Song of the Swallows by Leo Politi

I love everything about this old book, which describes the yearly nesting of the swallows at the Mission of San Juan Capistrano, and of the boy named Juan and his friend, the elderly gardener and bell-ringer Julian (which, YES, you must pronounce WHO lee ahn) who so eagerly await their return each year. There are two songs to sing (which you might remember vexes me) but they do have the notes to help out, which would help me much more if I had actually been paying attention back in1979 when Mrs. Gail Storey tried to teach me piano theory, or even in 1981-1983 when my choir teacher (a Miss Kay Doucet) and also band director (Mr. Todd, who never truly forgave me for needing braces and messing up my embouchure on my French horn mouthpiece. Yes, I had to look up how to spell embouchure. And yes, it was a terribly aggravating word for the auto correct function on the iPad) who both tried their best to teach me how to sight read. Anyway, the book is terrific. Read it and make up your own melody if you must. I especially love how the male protagonist engages with the natural world with such gentleness and wonder. Great role model.

Dodsworth in New York by Tim Egan

I'm not sure if Dodsworth is as dog or a mole, but I am sure that my kids think he and his crazy duck sidekick are hilarious. This is the first in a trilogy--they also travel to Paris and London, and see all the major landmarks, which means you can count them as an informal geography lesson.

Wind Says Good Night by Katy Rydell, illustrated by David Jorgensen

This is such a sweet, sleepy story, sublimely illustrated. It tells of a little girl who simply can't fall asleep because there is a mockingbird singing outside her window. It turns out that Mockingbird simply can't stop singing until Cricket stops playing, and Cricket can't stop playing until Frog stops strumming, and there is an entire contagion of delightful things that must end before all the creatures can finally sleep.

I had written this entire post last night, including what I felt to be some pretty entertaining commentary on the Olympics in general, and the hammer throw in particular (the kids fell into insuppressible giggles when they saw this for the first time, and I just think it's funny how hammer throw sounds so much like 'hammer toe') and I clicked over to my Olympics app to check a couple of things and when I returned, my entire treatise was ERASED. Which is debilitating. Maybe I'll try to replicate the commentary soon, but I can't promise it will be quite as inspired as the first draft.

Some friends came over to swim, and Mrs. J made medals so we could have our own junior Olympics in the pool. It was fun, but I can't say that all the members of my family did very well with the whole competition thing. There was a considerable amount of giving up before the competition was over, a general flouting of the (very liberal) rules, loud reminders that it really wasn't ENTIRELY fair that some of the competitors needed flotation devices and should PROBABLY have their own separate junior Olympics, and even an incident of impeding the progress of an opponent. As you see, everyone ended up with at least two medals, and it was a great opportunity for discussion about good sportsmanship etc.

This morning Helena wore this dress that is really a touch too short (it's size 24 months and she is now 42 months) to church because I thought it looked a little Shirley Temple-esque.