Made for something

In the last week, James has asked some pretty intense questions about life and the natural world: human reproduction, microscopic biomes, viral infection, and the ethics of eating animals. He's just as likely to ask how something works as he is to ask how you learned that. The last time we went to the library, he filled his own bag with books (First time ever! This kid has not enjoyed the library much in the past) and most of them were enormous, picture-filled nonfiction books about how things work, sunken ships, and the mythology of fairy tale creatures. I should have taken a picture of his selection. I never, never, never would have selected those books for him.

He asked for a chemistry set for Christmas so he could, "make my own mixtures and see what happens" (cue mischievous smile and twinkle in his eye). And that is exactly what he has done with it.

Saturday, as we got out of the car, James proudly proclaimed, "I was pretty much born to do science, draw, write, and read. But mostly do science."

Big smile for a chemistry set.

Christmas Day

This was a good year for Christmas at our house. The kids aren't too old, nor too young, to get excited and make it fun. My favorite part, though, was seeing what the kids gave each other and Erin. We let them shop for their siblings at the Crisis Nursery Holiday Shop* every year. This year, though, Alice and Robert both wanted to do more with their own time and money. Robert stewed and planned and researched and studied out gifts that would make each sibling happy. It came down to getting a small thing for each one, or a larger thing they could all enjoy together. He asked Bobby and me for advice. He finally decided to get the larger gift for the family: a set of MagnaTiles. And what a great choice! Those will be used and useful at our house for a long, long time. Even grandkids will probably play with them. For Erin, Robert spent a couple weeks constructing a life-size, 3-D replica of himself out of cardboard, complete with a cabinet in the chest that opens to reveal a book he made for her (a list of things he loves about Erin, a handmade comic strip featuring several inside jokes, and a picture of the two of them playing ball together). Dude.

Alice purchased full-size packages of Skittles and Starbursts and put together a note using the candy names to describe things she liked about each brother. They were extremely pleased. And for Erin, Alice spent hours planning, cutting, assembling, and finishing a Christmas-themed lap quilt. She used what she learned from her quilting class at school to do it. I only helped her find a sewing machine to borrow when ours went on the fritz. Holy moly! Her quilting class is working on pot holders. Pot holders! Not full-on quilts. Was Alice intimidated? No. Stressed? Yes. Thrilled with the outcome? Absolutely.

James wrote and illustrated a story for Erin. Amazing! He's started writing all kinds of stories since then, actually. He cleared off a shelf to put together his own "library".

And I want to tell you about this gift Erin gave me. I'm not usually a gift person, y'know? And this year, I finally figured out why when Erin gave me 2 of the most PERFECT gifts ever. I'm still dancing inside about them. The first: a handful of custom stickers to put on my guitar case. She selected things that totally hit all of my strong and eccentric bits. Here's a picture James took of my new guitar case look:

I love, love, love, love, LOVE it! Dark chocolate, Paris, minivan mom, C. elegans, triathlon, chicken farmer, supporting local food...*sigh* It couldn't have been better, except it DID get better. She also gave me a coupon book for favors/activities/tasks I often want, but can't easily do on my own, and rarely get the guts to ask other people to do for me: pick up groceries, shuttle kids somewhere, date night, attend a lecture/activity together, go to lunch. And that, my dear friends and family, makes the perfect gift for me: something I need/want/use that I can't give myself, or won't give myself. The guitar case stickers count in that category, too, because I had just decided I DID want to decorate my case, but they would have to be stickers that really defined me and my interests, and how on earth was I going to narrow the list down to just a few crucial aspects (I'm an overthinker, too, you realize) and then somehow search for and stumble upon cool-looking stickers that adequately represent each of these parts of my identity?! It seemed an impossible task, and I wanted it badly, but doubted I would ever get around to it or be satisfied with the end result. But Erin gave me that gift! And now I know you can order custom stickers!!

So many exclamation points!!

Gotta calm down.

Whew.

I think I played my guitar better today just because I love those stickers so much.

*gasp* I can also make one that says "Warning: I'm intense."...oh man...

Matthew, my one child who abhors kisses and will peel kisses off of his body and throw them back in your face, turned to me one morning and giggled, "Let's make a kissy picture!" This was our first, and only successful, attempt. He did not throw it back in my face. Huzzah!

*The Crisis Nursery is a non-profit organization in our community and the Holiday Shop is a big fundraiser for them. Businesses donate toys and small gifts to the shop where everything is priced $2-8. The best part is they have volunteers that will shop with your child and help wrap the gifts so his/her gift choices stay a secret from the rest of the family. All four kids can shop for each other in a safe place, all at once, and the money goes to a charity I want to support. What's not to love about this?!

Winter Break Part 1

The first half of winter break is over. Only the hardest half left :)

Here are some things we did in the first half! You saw our Christmas Eve Hike already.

Our first fire in 8 years of living with a wood-burning fireplace. James was the most insistent and excited about this adventure. We ended up with more smoke in the house than we wanted, though, so it's a bit of a learning curve.

Alice designed and put together this quilt for Erin for Christmas. She was thrilled and frustrated and excited and bored and everything in between. She swore off quilting for a little while, but she was awfully pleased with the end product.

Matthew said, "Take a picture of me! I'm a cat!"

Our ninjabread men before...

...and after! Linda Hobson showed us and the Alveys how to do royal icing. Dude. I may never do it again, but it was pretty fun for this one afternoon ;) Pretty cookies!

A Christmas Day walk at Meadowbrook. The weather was fantastic for it! Matthew, of course, remains in PJ's and barefoot. He rode in the stroller. Such a fourth kid.

We also pulled out the synthesizer for some new-wave music fun. In this video, James is playing the music and Matthew is doing an interpretive dance. The first 35 seconds are my favorite. The rest of the time, Matthew pops in and out as James' music gets less and less melodic.

The kids and I really enjoy the music of They Might Be Giants. Some of their music we've listened to often enough for Matthew to lip sync it. Here he is in the car as we wait for Robert and James after school: I Haven't Seen You in Forever from their fifth album for kids entitled Why? (2015). I love this song for so many reasons. First of all, it captures the many different feelings that can accompany a reunion of two people who have been apart for a while. Second, the ENTIRE song is essentially a round where John Linnell starts it, then sings the second part identical to the first just a few measures after he starts. The resulting harmony and rhythm is brilliant, even as it travels through key changes and tempo changes to complement the lyrics. This song embodies everything I love best about They Might Be Giants. Enjoy!

Christmas Eve Hike!

This year is so, so, so very different from last year. Can I just put that down on the official record? I am utterly relieved. Yes, I've had to say no to lots of things that I would normally love to participate in, but the energy conserved by those choices has been channeled into patience, peace, and more "yes" answers to my kids' requests for time, attention, and family activities.

Today, we went for a hike. Crazy, huh? We're not normally the hiking type, but our holiday hiking time with the Garners over the years has shown us that we actually like that sort of thing. And maybe we can see ourselves as a hiking type family in the future? It was our first visit to Turkey Run State Park just inside the Indiana border, about an hour's drive from home. I selected a trail that promised lots of, um, exciting bits: narrow, rugged pathways on cliff faces, crossing over a stream several times, 140 stairs, 30 feet of ladders, and something called "The Narrows". The weather forecast said it would be sunny and warm (over 50 degrees!!). Perfect, right? Well...

...it was at first. Then we discovered that narrows and canyons and forests shade the snow, and lots of hikers smash that snow into ice. Even on rocks and stairs. Especially on rocks and stairs.

*sigh*

It was hilarious and scary and fun and lighthearted and intense all at once. One bit was pretty terrifying, I'll confess. Once we got past the terrifying bit, the kids said they never wanted to hike this trail ever again. We talked about the things that were really cool about the experience, though. I even got a really good groan from Alice when I joked about this being an analogy for our mortal experience. Robert decided to tuck it away for a future church talk.

So, to quote my friend Rachel, "I'm glad it was a good bad hike, not a bad bad hike."

Ice on the bridge. So slippery!

Perfect temp in the sun, freezy cold in the shadow.

So many photo opportunities!

"Is this the trail?" "I don't know. I don't think so." "It doesn't really look like a trail." "Wait. I think it is." "Look at those icicles!!"

These ladders were fun for everyone except Matthew. But he did it!

If you look in the back, you can see some of the 140+ icy stairs we managed both up and down along the trail.

Lots (most??) of the trail was along the stream bed.

Some bits were impossible for Matthew to traverse on his own. He got a little help from his dad.

Interesting Nut

Today was a special combined sacrament meeting for all three wards in our building. I had to come early to practice a choir piece one more time. Alice joined me. When we finished our practice and found where Bobby and the guys were sitting, I sat down next to James. He did the funniest thing. He begged to perform the choir number with me and Alice, even though he had never sung (nor heard!) the song before. I couldn't fathom his motivation...

"Do you want to stand up in front and have everyone look at you?"

"No."

"Then why?!"

"I just want to do it! I want to be with YOU."

"But you don't know the words or the tune."

"Look, I can read the words", pointing at the sheet music in my hand, "And I'll just sing with you. Trust me, Mom, I can do this!"

"Do you promise to sing? 'Cuz just standing there next to me will be a huge distraction from the music. I can't have that."

"Yes. I promise to sing."

"Mmmm. Gah! Ok."

I was completely befuddled that this boy, who shrinks at giving talks in Primary and won't make eye contact or speak English to any adult he doesn't already know well (and even then, it's more like 50/50 English and baby caveman) would propose such a thing!

But what kind of mom wouldn't be excited to see her child challenge his/her fears so willingly?

I couldn't think of a reason to make him stay on the pew. I let him come up with us, shaking my head all the way. 

And guess what? He really sang. Everything. No shyness, no wilting, no silliness or acting up. He behaved just like a choir member should.

Why?! WHY?!

Afterwards, his primary teacher (whom he's known for a whole year!) told him she was impressed to see him singing with the choir. James looked at his shoes and mumbled something unintelligible. It was hard to tell if he even recognized she was talking to him. Later, Bobby told James he did a good job. Again, no obvious response. If James was doing it for the attention, he sure doesn't show it like Alice and Robert do. Holy moly.

Did he really just want to be with me? Or to see if he could do it? Was that really enough motivation to overcome his fear of public performance and the post-performance accolades? I just can't believe it. There must be more. I'll ask him again in a while. See if his answer changes.

This James is an interesting nut. 

[Later: It turns out, James was a little upset that he couldn't go to the last practice with Alice and me. We were a little late, so the two of us had split off without telling the other kids about it. When James realized I wasn't there, he wanted to find me, but Bobby wouldn't let him sneak into the rehearsal uninvited. That's why James asked me about the performance. He did just truly want to be with me. Dude. This kid values my physical presence above and beyond my comprehension. I need to remember that about him. It's apparently a very important love language to him.]

Peaceful

Alice having a flute lesson in the front room.

Boys out back playing in the new snow.

Pizza dough rising for dinner.

Dishwasher running.

I am happy.

Satisfied.

This is the kind of contentment I think I will miss when my kids are all grown up: knowing at this moment that they're all busy and happy and learning. Watching them do it. Knowing that I am actively doing things to care for those I love (dishes, dinner).

Recitals aplenty!

This was a week of music performance: 4 events to attend, 5 people in our family performing.

First was James' piano recital, which I blogged about previously. Yay, James!

Then came Alice's school Winter Arts Festival. Also documented in detail previously. Way to go, Alice!

And then, on Saturday, we attended Alice and Robert's piano recital. Bobby recorded their performances (see below), but the kids requested that we not move over to get them in the shot. They like hiding behind a big piano.

Alice's Ring Silver Bells (with Matthew's heavy breathing):

Robert's Jingle Bell Rock (with Matthew's swaying to the beat):

I would have enjoyed the recital much more if I weren't totally stressing out about another recital happening right after this one. Erin and I have been taking guitar lessons together and we decided to perform in the winter recital. Agh! It's the craziest thing preparing for something like that again. I remember them as a child. I remember preparing myself for other public performances, too, like talks/speeches and lessons at church and Cub Scouts and such. But somehow, this felt different. I was totally psyching myself out!

In fact, in the last few minutes before our recital, Erin and I were running through our performance pieces and I literally hit every note wrong. Like I was making stuff up on the spot. Dude. Not a comforting feeling at that point. *SIGH*

We did it, though, and I'm glad we did. I felt like our performance was actually pretty good. Not my favorite run-through ever, but decent. Passing. Not hideously embarrassing :) The video Bobby took of our performance, though, is really, really quiet and hard to hear. We weren't playing very loud, for one, and the acoustic guitar isn't exactly a bold, blaring sound. That's okay. A mutual friend of ours, Aubrey, attended with her husband and took a couple snapshots.

Here we are intensely focused on the music:

And here we are intensely relieved that the first piece is over, and worried about the next piece which is significantly more difficult and troublesome...so. much. tension!:

Coming up this week, we'll have Matthew's preschool Christmas Program. After that, Bobby will have to come up with some sort of public performance something so we have a complete set ;)

Anxiety Revisited

Last year, the week before Christmas, I went crazy. Or you can call it a nervous breakdown. Or maybe an anxious episode? For just about a month, I wasn't a fully-functional person. I remember that darkness and uncertainty. I remember so much fear. And love. There were people who loved me. I could feel that love in my best moments. But it was hard. And scary. And it felt like it would never, ever get better.

A year later, things are a whole lot better. A few small relapses, but nothing nearly as incapacitating as last Christmas! I'm still on a low dose of anti-anxiety/depression meds, and I'm seeing a therapist once a month or so to address triggers as they pop up. My body has done a good job letting me know when it's time to slow down...my forehead flushes, my gut gets overactive, appetite loss, nausea, and immediate nervousness upon waking. Usually, I can get the symptoms to disappear by catching up on sleep, eating more/better, and taking my meds regularly. I have been really, really lucky so far.

Christmas is a crazy busy time of the year anyway, so I anticipated some increased stress. What I didn't anticipate, though, was the sick feeling I got seeing the Christmas tree back up. The stockings. The advent singing. Christmas carols. All of it is tainted with memories of dark, irrational feelings from someone not exactly in control of herself. It's not bad enough to make me hate Christmas, but I'm on edge. On guard. There's an emotional weight there that wasn't there in years past.

Alice doesn't like to talk about last Christmas. At all. She doesn't even like me to mention it. I figure the more openly and frankly we can talk about it, the sooner we can accept it for what it was and move on. Alice is afraid that talking about it will make it happen again. And I will confess that something inside me feels very much the same. But that's superstition, right? Here are the facts:

I've had slightly elevated but still low-grade symptoms for a couple weeks. My body wakes up about 5am and starts to whir through the day: thinking about relationships and schedules and to-do lists and sticky bits. I replay previous conversations in my head. I plan what to say in anticipated future conversations. My blood pressure rises. My heart rate goes up. Getting out of bed is harder than it was last month, but the good news is that once I'm out, I'm good. That anxiety stuff melts away. I'm pretty tired, but completely functional.

I have tried to trim everything out of this season that I don't absolutely adore or need. Delegation goes a long way, too. I just don't have the emotional strength to carry everything that I have in the past. Our friends/neighbors/family won't get treats or letters. No caroling. The only Christmas traditions we'll do this year are the ones the kids specially request. Which, so far, have been gifts ;) and a family party Christmas Eve, a Christmas countdown with treats (I linked it to Light the World, though, so they have to work for it--mwah ha ha haaaaaaa), and at least one advent sing with friends. I can do that.

Winter Arts Festival

Alice's school had a Winter Arts Festival tonight. All three grades performed what they have been working on in Drama, Music, and after school Ensemble classes all semester. What a fun evening! I did not expect to enjoy myself that much. But now I have some cool ideas for things to do at home with our family.

Hanging around before the show, waiting for friends to arrive.

I love seeing Alice with her peers. These girls are loud and confident and so supportive of each other, despite all of their differences. And they are all very different.

I got to see a couple modern-day Greek tragedies, written by the girls. Complete with chorus. Here is Alice in Fiona's Tragic Airplane Ride (her drama teacher is filling in for one student who couldn't be there tonight).

The 6th graders showed us a fantastic drama exercise called ad lib mannequins...or something like that...the drama teacher called out a theme like "A day at the dog park" or "Snowball fight" and one by one, the girls would go on stage, strike a pose, and stay there. Each actor building on what the previous actor had done. In the end, their poses created a full scene, often hilarious. The drama teacher asked for a theme from the audience and settled on "Riding reindeer". This is a game I totally want to play with family and/or friends.

Then we heard recordings of new commercials and public service announcements the 8th graders invented. 

6th graders sang and acted out a group-written parody of Johnny Cash's Ghost Riders in the Sky called Ghost Chickens in the Sky--so clever, so well-written, and absolutely hilarious. I did not know children this age were capable of this! [12/12/19 CORRECTION: Alice told me this morning that the 6th graders actually found this brilliant parody online, memorized it, and created only the dance portion of the performance. *SIGH* I guess they're regular 6th graders after all ;) and my expectations are back to normal.]

Then there were choral numbers by each grade, some with live accompaniment by other students. They made mistakes. They weren't always in tune. Or on rhythm. It was still a middle school band concert. And yet, the energy was palpable.

I've said it before, but I'll say it again. Alice coming to this school was the right decision. I am astonished at the difference a small, supportive, cohesive, and inclusive environment makes. I wish I could guarantee this for every child! These girls are free to spend their energy inventing, taking risks, and getting comfortable in their own skin. *sigh* 

It didn't hurt, either, that several of the girls reminded me of good friends who have moved on from here. I love my friends. I miss them. I just wanted to give those girls hugs! But, of course, I didn't.I came home and blogged about it instead ;)

Thanksgiving Pictures!

A double rainbow we saw while traffic added an extra hour to our 6.5 hour drive :)

He loved the chocolate fondue. I loved his chocolate mustache and goatee. He did not like getting the chocolate mustache and goatee photographed.

Matthew loves Joshua! In fact, he and James have both asked if maybe the Garners could come visit us at our house sometime. Especially Daniel and Joshua. Every member of my household has a favorite Garner or two they'd love to have stay here for a bit. Summer exchange program?

I think this is why James wants the big boys to visit...they have fantastic games on their school-issued Chrome books and they don't care if you look over their shoulder!

I loved this hike!

No views like this one in Chambana.

Thanksgiving dinner! So. Many. Kids.

We played some Minute-to-Win-it games, too. This is Matthew trying to roll marbles across the counter and get them to stick to a strip of 2-sided tape at the end. Gideon's head is in the way because it was his turn to catch all the marbles that flew off the end (a highly coveted and contested position, I might add).

The hike again! This time, you can see Rachel :)

Bobby set up an ice cream tasting for us. These were all the flavors we tried. The third column is how many people "didn't taste" that flavor. And our names went next to our overall favorites. The Graeter's ice cream flavors (mango sorbet, mint choc chip, and Black Rasp Chip) were the clear winners. The other ice cream flavors came from our favorite Mexican ice cream shop in Chambana: El Oasis.

Rachel always has stuff on-hand for awesome crafts. Here, Alice and I are melting crayon shavings in a glass ball ornament. You can see the ornaments finished by the other kids in that box. Cool, huh?!

I'm going to say it again: I loved the hike. This part of Ohio knows how to do hikes and biking trails and such. Kinda jealous.

First Piano Recital

James is his own man: he had memorized his recital pieces, but didn't ever play them the same way twice. He would change the dynamics, the number of repeats, his hand positioning, and the octaves he used every. single. time. he. practiced. Even when asked/prompted/begged to "play it the way you're going to play it at the recital." So, when he stepped up to the piano, there was no telling what this boy was going to do:

Shaking off his upset in the highest octave.

Stumbling in the lower octaves, then recovering, and finishing the piece all slow, strong, and then surprisingly gentle.

Did you see that stifled little smile at the end when he hears the people clapping for him?

James, James, James. Who are you? Not a performer, per se, craving the limelight, but somehow confident enough in yourself to play it the way YOU want to hear it, and easy going enough to be flexible when you get stuck. Pleased in the praise, but you don't let them know it. Heaven forbid you encourage them! Then glowing all evening, proud of yourself.

You're fascinating, James. Absolutely fascinating.

Congrats on your first public performance!

Garner Fun

We love our friends the Garners. Their home is like visiting Grandma's house: familiar and comfortable, but totally different from home, and so much fun. I laugh so much harder at her house than I do at mine ;) I'm waiting for a couple more pictures from our Thanksgiving trip, then I'll fill in the details. Suffice it to say, I'm feeling grateful for Rachel and her family in my life.

Little Concert Video

Little Concert

James was SUCH a wiggle-wart at piano lessons today, I was sure it would be a beastly week for practice. He has his first piano recital in 6 days! His teacher made me laugh out loud today. James' recital pieces are a little above his sight-reading level. In fact, he learned them by ear (and visually memorizing the key sequence), not by reading the notes on the page, so he hasn't looked at the music on the page for a couple weeks. So, when his teacher opened the book to the right page and asked him to play his pieces, he started with the second one. She pointed to the first, a little confused. James was a little out of practice and had forgotten a few notes of the first one. She pointed to them on the page, but he wasn't even looking. He has no idea what those notes on the page mean in the context of what he has memorized for his fingers. She leaned over to him and said, "Okay, if you're not going to use your eyes, I'll just poke them out." James let out a little squeak and his eyes got as big as his smile. He looked at the page a lot better for the rest of the lesson.

Then his teacher pulled out some simple Christmas duets. She had him sight read through them, even after one episode of him going boneless on the piano bench and moaning, "But that one looks so HARD." He played it through once, smiled, and his teacher nudged him on the shoulder with a wink, "See? There was once a kid who thought this looked too hard." James got a little smily-er. His assignment this week is to practice his recital pieces and play from the Christmas duets book. That news resulted in more boneless drooping on the piano bench. My spirit wilted a little, too...how hard would it be to get him to play the Christmas ones?! His teacher took him through the book, every song, and showed him that he already knew all the notes to all the songs. She told him he was fully capable of playing everything in it. No response from James.

As soon as James got home from his lesson, he rediscovered a string of rainbow Christmas lights that I had said earlier he could put anywhere in the house. I didn't hear from him for a while. Then he announced that there would be a concert in the front room starting shortly. He had strung the lights all around the piano and intended to play Christmas songs from the very book his teacher had just shown him! He made an arena and audience seats and everything. He was SO stinking proud of himself performing for us, mistakes and all. We clapped and clapped and clapped after each piece, calling for an encore. He decided to favor us with his recital pieces, too. What a surprise!

A little while later, he walked up to me with that big, beaming grin of his...the one that squints his eyes...and he gave me a big hug around my waist, "Wasn't that great?" he said. I knew he meant the concert. And his budding piano skills. And a newfound confidence in himself. The applause. He was so, so happy.

Selfie #1 when he should be going to bed.

Selfie #2 even later in the night.

And Selfie #3. Yup, he's totally on vacation. Late nights all around.

Hiking in Ohio, "The Ledges" trail. He's thrilled to be outside again, even if it's barely 35F.

James-y: my big man in the middle.

Primary Program

Every year, the children in our church put on a Sacrament Meeting program for the whole congregation. They sing the songs they've been learning, they share scriptures, and some of them are asked to give talks. Alice got to sit in the pews with Bobby this year (she aged out of Primary last January, after participating in 9 years of programs!) while the boys and I sat up in the choir seats. Matthew did great. James did great. Robert did great. I was SO relieved that the loudness of the microphone and the congregation staring at them the whole time didn't intimidate any of my kids very long.

Robert was all tied up in knots about his speaking part, though.

He was asked to summarize a story from the scriptures where Jesus showed his love to someone.

I wasn't part of the writing session this time. Bobby kept Robert company in his room and asked him questions to help him figure out what he wanted to say. Robert didn't WANT to say anything. Especially something he wrote himself. He would MUCH rather have been handed a script or a scripture to read. I heard much wailing and moaning through the shut door. It took probably 30 minutes to write it start to finish. In the end, he came out with this, and this was his contribution to the Primary Program this year:

I love that boy.

Right after Robert spoke his part, he turned to go back to his seat. As he passed my seat, he gave me a quick expression: furrowed brow, frown, tongue stuck out in disgust, head shaking side to side. I interpreted it as, "Whew, I hated that." And then he thrust his hand towards me, containing his folded and scrunched up paper, and spoke with a raspy whisper, "Burn this when we get home!"

I received several comments afterwards from people appreciating Robert's honesty.

Both of Matthew's preschool teachers came to see the program. There are three kids from our congregation who attend Wee Disciples Preschool and Matthew is one of them. It didn't occur to me to invite his teachers to the program, but I'm glad someone else thought of it :) One of Matthew's teachers has been at the school long enough to remember Robert as a preschooler there. She especially appreciated Robert's post-talk expression, noting that it was very, very Robert to respond that way. She loved it.

Can I just tell you now that I LOVE that there are people outside my immediate family who know and love my kids? That's special to me.

We got home and I let Robert burn his talk in the outside grill. He was utterly relieved that the whole thing was over. Me too. Those programs are so, so stressful for the kids and the teachers and the leaders. Whew!

Doing Some Math

I was fast-walking the track at the gym this morning, thinking to myself. On my mind this morning was the farm and my exercise goals and my schedule this summer. This is my last school year with a preschooler. That's been on my mind a lot. It's been 13 years or so since I regularly spent most of a weekday on my own. I'm curious about the change. A little excited. But also pretty sure that there's a lot I don't know that I don't know about this new chapter. Oddly enough, thinking about Matthew going into full-day kindergarten also has me thinking about Matthew leaving the house entirely. An empty nest. I'm curious about how that will feel and what all of us will be doing and learning at that point in our lives.

I did some math.

Alice born in 2007, Matthew turning 19 in 2033. That means the "kids at home" chapter of my life is roughly 26 years. When Alice turns 13 in March, we'll be halfway through it.

Astounding!

And I have the unsettling feeling that the first half was the easy part ;)

And that the third and fourth "halves" of motherhood will hold plenty of learning opportunities, too.

I used to think that change was hard for me. I don't think that's always true anymore. Change is sometimes refreshing and inspiring. It's inspiring me to love the now and be patient with its frustrations, at least. For now. Ask me again in 13 years ;)

When I sit on the couch

This is what happens when I sit on the couch to listen to music:

And, moments later, when Robert was done doing his thing on the computer (putting 40+ graphic novels on hold at the library on MY card!!!) he came over looking for a piece of me to claim as well. This particular evening, I enjoyed the attention and physical closeness. My kids have no problem these days demonstrating (and fighting over) how important I am in their lives. It won't be like this forever. So many things won't last forever. I'm not sad about it, though. Just recognizing it. Trying to appreciate it right now when it's too easy to take it for granted.

Why Poetry?

Why do I have a hankering for poetry? What am I craving?

It's not Walt Whitman.

I scoured my bookshelves for other kinds and found some Shel Silverstein. That was fun to read out loud with the kids. Robert took it with him to bed. But it didn't scratch my poetry itch.

I rediscovered some poetry by Bobby's maternal grandmother, Celia the Great. That was more what I was looking for:

Singing Silence

Yes, all the world 
Has gone to bed,
And so should I
And yet, 
There was magic silence singing,
And I would sing in silence, too.

(Published Helen Reese, ed., An Anthology of Fraternity and Sorority Verse, The Greek Letter, (New York: Henry Harrison, 1940), 123.)

And this one from a book of poetry she gave her future husband on Valentine's Day 1940:

I love you when laughter
Sparkles in your eyes,
And tinkles round us
And even the wind laughs.
But I love you best
When we stand, gravely,
Side by side,
Finding beauty too deep for words.

And I revisited the Dictionary of Obscure Sorrows for a couple of my favorites. Here's one:


midding

v. intr. feeling the tranquil pleasure of being near a gathering but not quite in it—hovering on the perimeter of a campfire, chatting outside a party while others dance inside, resting your head in the backseat of a car listening to your friends chatting up front—feeling blissfully invisible yet still fully included, safe in the knowledge that everyone is together and everyone is okay, with all the thrill of being there without the burden of having to be.

The creator of the Dictionary of Obscure Sorrows said this, "I think the act of naming something implies, very simply, that you’re not alone. We give names to things so we can talk about them. Once there’s a word for an experience, it feels contained somehow—and the container has a handle, which makes it much easier to pick up and pass around. Kinda comforting."

And I think that's what I'm looking for in this poetry hunt: 1) proof that others have felt the things I feel and 2) beautiful containers with handles.

Comfort, empathy, feeling understood...that's poetry.

Poetry and Live Jazz

I have recently had a hankering for poetry. But I don't even really know what kind I like. Robert was unbearably bored this evening waiting for Bobby to make dinner, so I suggested he read me poetry from Walt Whitman's Leaves of Grass (it's one of only a handful of poetry options currently in our house). He humored me, slightly amused, and read the first one. After a few more, he said, "This is like reading random words in a line. No rhyming. No sentences. I don't understand ANY of it. It's even worse than reading the scriptures!" Well, I had a hard time understanding it, too, the way he was reading it.

*sigh*

Maybe Walt Whitman isn't the best start. I'll give him another go on my own and see.

Bobby, Erin, and I went to see a friend sing jazz tonight. She was great! On my way out, I saw the venue's performance schedule for the rest of the month...there's a poetry night! Dare. I. Try?

Make a list

Driving away after a lunch date with a friend, Matthew started rattling off everything he wanted to do once we were home: do a chore and a worksheet to earn a computer turn, have a computer turn, and play Duplo with me. I mentioned I had some things I needed to do, too. Then he got all excited and announced, "Let's make a list! Then we can see what we want to do in the order we want to do them!"

I didn't have a way to do that safely as I drove, so he patiently reviewed the list out loud over and over and debated to himself about which order was ideal.

We dashed into the house and got it down:

1. Play Duplo
2. Do chore and a worksheet
3. Computer turn while Mom does all her chores

We did just that.

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Matthew surprised me the other day. He's got a precocious sense of humor, thanks to his older siblings exposing him to all sorts of things. And maybe he gets more screen time than his siblings did at this age...I'm really trying to remember. Anyway, when the kids are chatting and laughing together, 99% of the time it's about a play on words or something that was misheard. They keep adding layers to the story and more and more twists to make it so, so silly.

Alice was programming a Mad Lib-style word game for computer science. At one point, the example sentence read: "You're so scared, that you clean your glasses." Matthew immediately acted it out sarcastically:

"Aaaagh!", reaching for imaginary glasses on his face and rubbing the imaginary lens with his hand, "Ee, ee, ee, ee!" He had made the sound effects! We all burst out laughing. That was so unexpected. It floored me. This kid. Sheesh.

*********************************

During dinner tonight, Robert was in the kitchen and yelled into the dining room where I was sitting, "Moooom, one of these tomatoes on the counter has a bad spot."

I replied, "Ok, thanks, I'll have a look at it later."

Robert walked over to me at the dining room table and said, "That sounded like your 'I already knew that but I'm saying thanks just to make you feel good' voice."

My eyes widened.

He was totally right, of course. I use that same tone to mean exactly that, even though that's not what I was thinking in this particular case. I'm not surprised that he notices my different tones, but I am agog that he 1) had the maturity and verbal skills to express his perception like that and 2) that it mattered to him if his perception was accurate and 3) he was actually asking me about it.

What I was ACTUALLY thinking when I responded to him was, "Aw, man, I completely forgot about those tomatoes. They were green when I brought them in from the garden. Do they even taste good? And if one is getting rotten I should check them all and decide what to do with them. Maybe put them into tomato sauce where their flavor matters a little less."

*********************************

James had a fantastic thought on the way home from piano lessons this week. He said, "Do you ever imagine what it's like to be in another person's body? I mean, I like my body. But I'm sitting in this seat and Matthew's seat is in front of me and I can imagine what it's like to sit there and look out that window. And wouldn't it be cool to go into other people's bodies and see if they see the same way you do and move their arms and legs like "whoa whoa whoa" (he's wibbling his arms and legs every which way).

*********************************

Alice can tell when I'm in a dark type of mood. She calls me out on it, too, with a tentative sort of suggestive sentence, "You seem quiet." That's my cue to be perfectly honest with her. She's a perceptive, intuitive sort of person, and will pick up on emotions and reflect them. The only way to ease her worry is to tell her the whole truth, "Yeah, I've got a few things on my mind: Matthew's asthma attack this morning, a friendship that is going through a rough patch, sadness that I didn't get to spend as much attention on Grandma and Grandpa as I would have liked during their visit, and I haven't eaten in 16 hours. I'm kinda spread thin right now." That's when she breathes a sigh of relief and smiles and asks, "What can I do to make any of that better for you?"

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Out of Sorts

I'm feeling a bit out of sorts. Like my life is moving too fast for me. More and more, I'm showing up to events and appointments not fully prepared. Not completely present. Always in a rush.

I don't like this.

I feel the urge to sit quietly and figure it all out. To blog and blog and blog until it all makes sense again. Then maybe I'll start living my life again instead of just surviving it. Where do I start?

My kids? The farm? My responsibilities at church? My relationship with my spouse? Building new friendships nearby? Maintaining friendships that have become long-distance? Keeping my house orderly and clean? Developing my constantly evolving personal identity? Working through my mental/emotional hangups?

I'm all over the place. But that's a good list to start with.

I've got to warn you: the following will be a bit of a brain/heart dump, so you might not find it as entertaining as some of my other blog posts.

My kids. I think about them a lot. Each one so unique with very specific needs and me with a finite set of resources. I am proud of their thought processes and skills. Tonight, Robert and James worked together on carving James' pumpkin...knives, pointy sticks, gut scrapers...they asked permission, got together everything they needed, and got to work. They didn't make a huge mess. They didn't fight. They didn't get hurt. It actually worked remarkably well with minimal supervision (i.e. I was in the next room reading to James and Matthew). These are capable kids. I'm proud of their choices. I love to see them analyze and choose. And yet, and yet, and yet, I can't be there for all of it. I can't see all of it. I can't snuggle Robert as often as he would like me to. I can't play Matthew's imaginary games as long as he wants me to. I can't give James all the big physical touch (hugs, squeezes, wrestles, pushes, races) and eye contact and quiet conversations that he craves to know that he's loved every. single. minute. of his glorious life. And Alice. Oh, Alice. I can't begin to give this complex and warm and sensitive person the dedicated attention she thrives on. I am a mom of four siblings, and I want to be a mom of four single children. Each one on his/her own could fill my life to the brim and I would be completely satisfied.

The farm. I love it. I love to feel strong and useful. I get to learn new things. I get to meet people with totally different strengths and perspectives from my own. And it's ending. I'm not as sad about it this year as I was last year at this time, though. This morning, Gaye called me "analytical" as a compliment. It made me smile. She called me a "beast" last year (also a compliment). It means a lot to me that these people notice what I do.

My responsibilities at church. I've been working as a leader in the children's organization at church for a year now. I'm still struggling to feel useful. I'm still reluctant to take on the work. I've got a real mind block here and it's been a tough nut to crack.

My relationship with my spouse. Don't worry. We're good. I feel like Bobby is more my friend and partner than I've ever allowed him to be since we started having kids. We share the kid load better now. I often forget to tell him our plans, though, and that can be a source of frustration for him. Sorry, Bobby.

Building new friendships nearby. I live in a university town. People don't tend to stay very long. And the ones that move in every year look less and less like me and my family...they're younger, fewer kids (if any), and not interested in growing roots here. That's okay, of course. I don't expect people to move here to be my friends :) but it's a constant source of stress for me.

Maintaining long-distance friendships. I love my friends. They have seen me through some critical moments in my life. We've shared deep, meaningful discussions. That closeness sustains me in so many ways. And that closeness requires regular time and effort to maintain it. I give it gladly. Quality time with good friends recharges my batteries and strengthens me to do what needs to be done. Even when I don't want to do it. Genuine empathy and knowing that I am loved are the keys to my happiness. Friends are a major source of these critical ingredients in my life.

Keeping my house orderly and clean. I organize and clean things when the chaos and filth start to bother me. I am not often bothered. Enough said.

Developing my constantly evolving identity. I wear many hats. I am not the same Susan I was 20 years ago, or even 1 year ago. I have a terrible memory and I am not very sentimental, so my past carries less weight than my present and future. Sure, there are experiences in my past that continue to shape me now, but they might not always do that. Or I'll forget that they did/do. I feel like this point in my life is a hefty transition: living with an anxiety disorder, shifting into a new gear of parenthood, coming to rediscover who I really want to become. My therapist gently used the word "intense" to describe my temperament and approach to relationships. I raised an eyebrow at first, but as I thought about it later, I came to see that she's right. If I could somehow let everyone who ever interacted with me know that I'm a pretty intense person, then I wouldn't be so afraid of interacting with them. Guess what, world?! I'm intense. I think too hard about things. I analyze and process and internalize things to a degree that makes most people roll their eyes. I love that part about me. And I hate it. It makes it so difficult to have a light, surface conversation. It makes some people uncomfortable. Whatever my task, whoever you are, wherever I find myself, that is how I live in this world: intensely. I need a button to wear on my chest that says as much: "I am an intense person. You may find this awkward. I can't turn it off. You've been warned." So, when it comes to figuring out me and what I want to do with the next chapter of my life, there's no easy answer.

Working through my mental/emotional hangups. Therapy is a beautiful thing. It works for me.

Ok, that helped. I'm getting a grip again. Just in time for bed. I should leave you with one picture, though, as a reward for scrolling to the end of this long, wordy blog post. Maybe two pictures.

Mom and Dad helped all day to make and can 48 quarts of applesauce. That's 12 gallons. Or about 100# of sauce. Thank you!

My carrot harvest this year. Aren't they PRETTY?! Most of them are about 8 inches long. Woo hoo!

Matthew is 5!

What can I tell you about this gem of a darling? My mom is right: he's clearly someone we all dote on. He's growing up in a home where everything he does is darling, cute, and so, so loved by all.

Poor kid.

The real world can be a little bit harsher than that. Sorry, Matthew. I can help pay for therapy later...

I love it when my kids decorate their own birthday cakes!

Matthew is Alice's baby kitty and ninja school pupil and all-around-good-buddy. He LOVES her attention.

General Conference can be exhausting.

A photo shoot with Alice.

More photos with Alice. Notice how dirty their feet are? That's from outdoor ninja school.

Big blue eyes.

Excellent with a pair of scissors.

90% of the time, you'll find Matthew in pajamas or a swimsuit. They're just plain comfier than play clothes and he'll change into them the moment he's allowed to.

Matthew's perpetual stuffy nose and various speech quirks make everything he says sound cuter. Even when he's steaming mad at you, ya just want to cuddle him close and kiss that shaggy head.

But don't kiss Matthew these days. He'll peel any kiss off and throw it back in your face. I'm not sure where he picked up this behavior, but it's sticking for now.

He can't stand to be alone. He'll play on his own pretty well, but only if other people are around and making noise.

The other day, I watched him play with his siblings in Erin's backyard, and he seemed taller. Stronger. More capable. Agile. Verbal. He acted like a kindergartner. He's five now, but it's so hard to imagine that because he's still my youngest child, no matter how we cut it. I felt a pang of something emotional as I watched him be the big kid he is. I can't quite decide which emotion it was. It was probably several of them, actually. It was the first time I couldn't deny the pace of his growth. I have wanted him to catch up, catch up, catch up his whole life...somehow, for that breath, I wanted him to pause. I wanted to take in everything that he was right then before anything more could change.

Matthew is apparently a model student. His teachers at school tell me over and over that they want to bottle him up and keep him there forever.

He is patient most of the time. Easy-going often. And pretty easy to get along with. I can see James' influence on him. I can see a little of Alice in him. Alice and Matthew are alike in many, many ways. Like book ends.

He rolls his eyes when asked to write anything...doesn't enjoy that activity in the slightest...but he did manage to sound out how to spell "bam" and "poop" during his birthday dinner. His complete disinterest in writing/recognizing letters makes me wonder if he might have a little dyslexia like his dad and grandpa. I'll keep an eye on that, I think.

A sweet a generous addition to our family, this one. We're so stinkin' glad to have you with us, Matthew! Happy Birthday!