regression

My father reminded me that I am overdue for a family update (or any kind of new post, I guess). I am afraid that I don't have much to share with you, but here is where we're at:

My dear friend Mylissa just flew in from Memphis for a visit, which was lovely. It struck me that although we've been friends since our oldest were toddlers, this is only the second time that one of us has stayed the night at the other's house--the first was this past summer as our family stayed with hers on our way out here. We had an enjoyable, pretty low key visit, and Mylissa is right back in the thick of things back home... check out her doings at Habitat for Hope's site.

Michael now understands the rudiments of the four basic math operations (addition, subtraction, multiplication, division). He really enjoyed the new concepts of "greater than" and "less than" which we hit last week. The concept of alligators is thanks to my fourth grade math teacher, whose name I unfortunately cannot remember. He has been introduced to the characters of The Lord of the Rings and has developed an intense interest in the same. He's been begging us to read it to him but we resisted, saying he needed to read The Hobbit first, thinking that would delay him for quite a while--until he was emotionally ready to confront the Black Riders. Well, it delayed him about two days. He spent those days hunched over The Hobbit, following Bilbo There and Back Again, and then demanded that we start on the series. He really read it, too--I asked pointed questions about what happened and he knew. The child amazes me. What's next?

Caroline has moved on from teaching herself addition to teaching herself subtraction. If you have preschool children who are interested in math, or who are not interested in math, or elementary children struggling with math, whatever, I highly recommend a set (or two) of Cuisenaire rods. These things rock. Michael was already doing some mental math when we started with them so he doesn't seem to need them very much, but Caroline started out playing with these, just playing, then moved on to building "trains" ("What do you put with a purple rod to make an orange rod?"), then asked for worksheets, and has never looked back. I taught her nothing about addition and very little about subtraction--and she just gets it. She rarely if ever needs the rods for addition at this point. Did I mention that these things rock?

By the way, for those of you who knew we were on the fence about schooling for next year, we have decided to keep Michael and Caroline at home for another year instead of trying to run the school choice gauntlet long distance. It would have been doable, but Michael insists that he wants to continue homeschooling and I think we'd like to go another round.

Elanor has had an interesting couple of weeks and bears the dubious honor of having this entry named for her. She potty trained quickly at the end of October/beginning of November last year. It was truly an effortless experience. I've trained two children, each with their own little quirks (Michael's: needing constant coaching and encouragement to stay on the toilet long enough to make a real "deposit", hence the need for "poo poo stories"; Caroline's: several months of losing bladder control every time she lost her temper, which if you knew her back then, you know was about four times each day), and, until last week, Elanor had none. She was perfect. Last week, however, Elanor apparently forgot that she was potty trained. She started having accidents everywhere. At the kitchen table. On a chair in the playroom. In the bathroom. Hanging off a gate outside of church. In her bed. Several each day. Total regression. Thankfully she seems to be over it. But she is sleeping on a towel.

It made me think of a blog post I read last fall--look here. I thought then, and think now, that the author has a really good point. We do love to think of God as "Daddy" and "Father" and he has encouraged that. But I know from watching Andy that any good father spends quite a lot of time coaxing his children, humiliating himself, and cleaning up their messes. And doing all those things with patience, love, and consistency. Elanor may have backslid on her potty training... and I confess I rolled my eyes more than once... but how often do I backslide in my own faith? Does God roll his eyes over my accidents and mistakes? I doubt it. Like Andy with Elanor, he cleans me up, loves on me, and sends me on my way, hoping that this time I will make it.

a fun way to spend time

Note, I didn't say waste. Nothing involving books could ever be considered "wasting time". Thanks to Angie for telling me about Library Thing, this fun little site. It is like flickr, but for books. You sign up for an account (get this, they never even ask for your email address or name or anything, so you can't get spam from them!) and then you start entering in your personal library. I discovered that entering ISBN numbers is easiest because there are hundreds, I mean hundreds, of different editions of Pride and Prejudice out there. I own two. For each book, it tells you how many other users also own that book. There are also groups (not explored) and forums and if your book (or author) is mentioned in a forum (or topic or conversation or whatever), then it provides a link to that conversation!

I entered my worn out copy of The Complete Father Brown by GK Chesterton (I really need a hardcover copy of this one) and discovered that it had been mentioned in a conversation with a title something like "must read British/Irish detective fiction?". Wow. A quick glance through the conversation reaped me a nice little handful authors to explore. How exciting!

Unfortunately most of my library is in boxes back home, so an extensive listing will have to wait until this summer. I got a bit of a start, though. This is a fun little site and worth exploring--check it out. And when you do, let me know so we can connect over there and check out each other's libraries!

the patience of a saint

I'm going to take a minute to brag upon myself (because generally I don't have a great reason to). Last week, I had a day--a day which was eminently blogworthy, a day of trials and stress, and a day in which I was patient. Truly, like a saint. I felt great. Then I moved on to this week and just like that, it was over. Sainthood is once again out of my reach.

Started out with Caroline. I was trying to get everyone corralled and out the door so we could go buy groceries (once again being out of food because no one goes to the store when one has company). We'd done about an hour of school and then everyone headed downstairs to put on shoes, use the facilities, and get ready to go. For some of us this is a five minute task. For others, it is an hour long ordeal. I kid you not. I even delayed my going back upstairs by taking the time to make my bed. With clean sheets. I reminded Miss "Others" (OK, it was Caroline, like you wouldn't guess it anyway) that she was supposed to be acquiring footwear. Dawdle. Dawdle. Dawdle. It is amazing to me how slowly that child can move. And let me tell you, she doesn't get it from me. So I finished my bed-making and headed upstairs, at which point the storm broke loose. I must point out that for some reason, all of the children consider the lower level of our apartment to be a very scary place in which to be alone. An adult escort is generally necessary. She was still barefoot and still moving at a glacial pace, until she heard me headed upstairs. The tempest followed me in hot pursuit, screeching for me to return. I refused, calmly pointing out that she had ten minutes to get on her shoes and the closest I'm coming to going back downstairs is sitting on the steps. I have good reasons for holding firm on this and so we spent quite a bit of time battling. I was ready to cash in the grocery trip (who knows what we will have for lunch) and let her spend the rest of her morning on her bed. Finally she conceded, put on her shoes, and we went to the store.

She is a ray of sunshine for the entire shopping trip.

I am not.

The morning is not the part of the day during which I exhibited my saintly patience. I snarled.

Did I mention that the day got even better?

Michael had woken up that morning complaining of a sore ear. Then said nothing more about it. He has had one ear infection in his entire life. I had kind of wondered off and on during the morning if I should try to do something about it, but it really didn't seem like it was bothering him at all. Plus, doctors don't want to prescribe antibiotics unless they really need to. Also, our beloved family practice doctor is 3000 miles away. Incidentally, I have no interest in beginning a doctor/patient relationship 3000 miles away from my home. Added to that, I wasn't thrilled with the idea of taking three children to an urgent care clinic because those places are not known for being speedy. And it was a Thursday, which meant that Andy was in class and inaccessible for the entire day (I would call if someone was actively spurting blood or dying, but it is a weighty matter to interrupt the Hebrew class). Michael came upstairs from quiet time, complaining about his ear, but more focused on getting to play a video game with me (go Nintendo 64). That lasted about five minutes and he was obviously in a lot of pain.

At this point, you know it is too late. I will attempt to be brief. Thankfully, Elanor woke up early from her nap. Not so thankfully, the nurse at the clinic informed us that they were looking at a three hour wait. Thankfully, random pediatrician's name that popped up (as an emergency provider) in my internet search before leaving the house was right around the corner. Not so thankfully, the office does not actually see emergency cases. Thankfully, they had an opening in less than an hour and were willing to see Michael. Not so thankfully, he was moaning in full gear at that point. Thankfully, they called us back in twenty minutes. Thankfully, he fell asleep waiting for the doctor. Thankfully, they had electronic medical records and she faxed his prescription right to Target. Not so thankfully, it didn't do any good because they wouldn't start counting pills until they had our health insurance card. Thankfully, it was right up the road. Thankfully, the pharmacist was really nice. Not so thankfully, we still had to wait 15 minutes to pick up the prescription because of the aforementioned card. Thankfully, Target is a store in which I can shop anytime. Not so thankfully, when I returned after 10 minutes because Michael had moved from moaning to wailing, I was stuck behind some man who wanted to flirt with the pharmacist. Thankfully, she rang up everything for me there. Thankfully, the prescription included numbing drops for his ear. Not so thankfully, I forgot to pay for the bottle of water we'd all been drinking as we walked around the store (I paid for it yesterday, thanks for asking). Not so thankfully, Michael had been hurting for so long that he vomited in the parking lot next to the van. Thankfully we were in the back corner of the parking garage (I did tell someone who hopefully ordered a cleanup but you'd better believe I didn't stick around to do it). Thankfully Target is three blocks from our apartment. Thankfully Michael fell asleep on the way home. Thankfully Andy was home when we got there. Thankfully Michael spent most of the rest of the evening asleep. Not so thankfully, he vomited three more times (once in my cupped hands and all over my bed, the one I'd put clean sheets on that very morning). Thankfully, he slept most of the night and felt much better by lunchtime the next day (and is now fighting fit).

Throughout the entire afternoon, I was calm, cool, and collected. Soothing Michael. Singing to the children. Talking to everyone. Friendly. I was SuperMom. For one afternoon, I was great. Like I said, I had the patience of a saint.

This week has been an entirely different story. Some ups and downs. The sad part is that much of the downs have been self inflicted. I would like to go back into last week and try to collect some of that patience to have on hand for future needs. Unfortunately, I am not sure it works like that. I just hope that Michael remembers the snuggles from when he was sick and not the snarls from math. Thankfully, he is well again. Thankfully, I think he will remember my snuggles more than my snarls.

Thankful. I am thankful. For my husband, for my children. For our health. For our home. For our insurance. For Target. For amoxil. And for the blessing of having multiple pairs of shoes for my daughter to ponder every morning. Really.

this is for you, angie

I remember this commercial, which was referenced in a recent article about past Superbowl ads, and I wanted to post it for you to enjoy as well. Part of my personal giggle is that my friend Angie is fond of comparing mothering to "herding stray cats". I couldn't agree with her more and was proud to see that EDS made a commercial for us. Enjoy!

more self revelation

The real truth of the matter does not actually lie in the fact that I am not a fun person. I guess I have to moderate that observation and say that I am not very fun. Mylissa should still come visit. Jenny should still come, too.

I have been pondering more and have concluded that possibly the main reason guests can be a stress for me is that I am not a good housekeeper. I accumulate clutter. I fight back. Sometimes quite successfully. Now is not one of those times. I am not consistent in cleaning (although the kitchen and the bathroom get the most attention, I promise you are never going to sit on a dirty toilet. Everything else may be dirty, but your food and your body will be clean.). Although I vacuum quite a lot nowadays and you can be thankful for that!

The other issue is that when one has company (let me transition into third person for a moment please), one does not care to waste valuable visiting time with frivolous matters such as cleaning or paying bills.

Which is why I have a significant backlog of both to address. So if you have been feeling guilty for your visit (past, pending, or future), feel guilt no more. The fault lies entirely with me.

a courtesy reminder

Last July, on our old blog, I asked you if you had given blood recently. There's been a good bit of water under my personal bridge since then; I'm sure the same is true for you. I mentioned my aunt in that entry. She passed away in August, which I mentioned at the time, but thought I would make note again if you missed it then. I just had a wonderful visit with my cousin (her daughter) and we naturally spent quite a bit of time talking about our mothers. It's funny, her loss is so recent and mine is not (comparatively), but our feelings are still very much the same. Does anyone ever have enough time with her mother? I am thankful to have the gift of letting mine go without regrets, but boy, do I miss her. Very thankful to have a reunion to anticipate.

Yet I digress. I would like to take this moment to issue a public service announcement: Please Give Blood. Someone's mother needs it. Most of us can donate with little or no inconvenience. Those of you who pass out from donating or are anemic or have issues, I am not talking to you. This is not a guilt trip for those with real issues (like my poor husband), but for those without. I'm not asking for martyrdom. If you have not given blood because you have better things to do with your time or you have just forgotten about it and don't actually have a good reason for not donating, I am talking to you. It is not that much time and you always get a free snack out of the deal. You may also get a free shirt (see my father's wardrobe). I know your time is valuable, but your blood is more valuable to someone whose life may depend on it.

So drop off a pint today. You will make a difference in someone's life!

one thing i have learned about myself

I am not sure how exactly this happened, but it is a curious item: we moved 3000 miles away from most of the people we know and suddenly have had a real stream of visitors. Do you like us better from a distance and just want to come out for a quick "fix" for a few days? We really thought we couldn't get much farther away from people than we did when we moved to Florida, but we've done it now. And you didn't come visit us there (some of you did, no, I'm not ignoring you). Of course, some of you actually live there so a visit was pointless, and now it's not.

Seriously, we love having the company. The kids love it because they get extra attention (my favorite person in the house is not the computer, but the kids sure need to be careful about interrupting me while I'm using it) and get to play with a different person every time they turn around. We also get to eat out more and do more fun things, like go hiking or spend an afternoon at the beach.

Which brings me to this self revelation. I am not a fun person. Really, I am not. Many of you are probably wondering why it took me this long to figure that out, since you've known it as long as you've known me, and actually it was not a huge surprise to me. It is just different to have finally verbalized it to myself. What brings it out is this: company expects me to be more fun than my kids do. Don't get me wrong, I love going to the beach, spending a day hiking, riding things at Disney, rooting for the winning team at the Rose Bowl, and all of the other things we have done in the past month. It has been a lot of fun and we are certainly doing well on our goal to enjoy California as much as possible in the short time we are here.

However. I am actually more introverted than otherwise and really enjoy time by myself. With kids, that is really hard to come by. With kids and company.... well, just kiss it goodbye. My laptop misses me. Andy and my father think that I don't use it much anymore, but it's kind of a combination of factors. I miss my laptop. I'm thinking about selling my laptop but have a real anxiety about living without one for an extended period of time because I want to be using it. I really do! And I want to be using it for more enjoyable things than paying bills and balancing the checkbook. I know those days will return. Probably not when the company leaves, more like when the kids leave. Ouch.

Gotta go finish cleaning the bathroom for the next guest. Reservations are requested at least 48 hours in advance. We'll leave the light on for you!