Literacy Farm...

Happy Heart Day

2012-02-14T20:44:00.008-05:00

This morning, Aidan gave Leo the Valentine he made for him. Leo looked at it, then looked at Aidan and said,

"This card is so cute that my eyes turned into tears."

Aidan replied knowingly, "Yep, that happens sometimes."

My Valentines (3/4 of them):

Pax decided to help me out with decorating my Valentine packages. This was all his doing!

Chocolate covered strawberries; pretzels dipped in chocolate; homemade truffles; white chocolate raspberry creme brulee.

Aidan's Valentine's Cards - the one that made Leo's eyes turn to tears.

Channeling my inner Seventh Grade Girl:

A very wonderful day.

Lost Baby

2012-02-13T19:47:00.006-05:00

"Awareness born of love is the only force that can bring healing and renewal. Out of our love for another person, we become more willing to let our old identities wither and fall away, and enter a dark night of the soul, so that we may stand naked once more in the presence of the great mystery that lies at the core of our being. This is how love ripens us -by warming us from within, inspiring us to break out of our shell, and lighting our way through the dark passage to new birth." -John Welwood

I do not remember the original context of this quote. What I do remember is reading it, and hearing it speak directly to my heart, making sense of pain and loss and love and compassion - my pain, my loss, my love, my compassion. My story.

Six years ago on this day, Jeff and I found out the devastating news that the baby I was carrying had died. I was nearing the end of my first trimester: that is to say, I was loving that baby so much, already.

I've kept so private the grief I feel, each year, when February arrives. But when I read that quote by Welwood, I realized two important things: if we are to change the hush-hush stigma that surrounds the loss of a child through miscarriage, it begins with women who are willing to share their stories. Who are willing to stand vulnerable and be honest and open. Who acknowledge the grief and the loss and the suffering. Even when that grief is six years old.

And the second important thing I realized is that my baby deserves to be remembered.

And so I am sharing excerpts from the letter I wrote in 2006 to my Lost Baby, in the hopes that it will speak to the hearts of Lost Women.

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

Dear Baby,

When was the exact moment when your heart stopped beating? When did it beat for the last time – what was I doing? Was I kissing your Daddy? Hugging your brother? Was I laughing? Was I crying? Did your heart beat long enough to know how much I love you, how I will love you forever? Did my own heart skip a beat when yours stopped beating?

I will never know you, my tiny stranger. Your Daddy and I were so proud of you already, so happy that you would come into this world and make our lives even richer. We would hold you and kiss you and love you unconditionally and forever. Now, we will hold your memory in our hearts forever.

I need you to know a few things. I need you to know that I understand that there was something not healthy about you, and so you had to die. I need you to know that I love you just the same. I need you to know that I had a deep connection with you, that my “mother’s intuition” actually was working quite well. I knew deep in my heart that there was something not quite right about you. I worried about you so much…

I never imagined that this would happen to me, that I would belong to the horrible club of “Women Who Have Had Miscarriages.” I never imagined that losing a child through a miscarriage would be as heartbreaking and devastating as it is.

I want you to know how much we love you, how many people were deeply affected by your death, how many tears I have shed over you. You cannot imagine the love I have for you, your tiny being who I will never know but whom I love beyond measure. We had such plans for you!

Baby, we will always love you. We will never forget you. You were created out of a deep love that your Daddy and I share with each other. You were nurtured in my body and I was so good to you. I was eating well for you, I was exercising for you, I was loving you so completely. I know that we will have other children, and we will love them, but I need you to know that you will never be forgotten, that no child will ever replace you, that it was YOU that I wanted. I wanted you, I love you, I will always be your Mama, and I will see you one day.

Finally, baby, I am so sorry. I cannot help but feel that I have failed you as a mother. I love you, my child. I will meet you again one day. Until then, you will remain in my heart forever.

Love,

Mom

Proofs

2012-02-09T19:44:00.009-05:00

February is the cruelest month. In these endlessly dreary, chilly days, I love to have the photographic evidence that we actually *do* manage to have quite a bit of fun.....

For Christmas, Aidan, Leo, and Pax gave my parents the "adventure experience" gift of treating them to an afternoon of ice skating and drinks (cold beer for the grown-ups; hot cocoa for the kiddos). My parents both grew up in Michigan where ice skating was a regular winter activity; my father played ice hockey and still has some fierce moves on the ice. In November, we'd taken the kids skating, and they loved it - and in January, Leo started taking skate lessons once a week. So we knew it would be a fine time for everyone - and it was.
Aidan was so confident and cheerful, despite several falls!

Love this kid and his can-do spirit!!!!
....but THIS boy is the one who amazed us all. The first time we skated, Pax didn't much like the ice and was content to hang out on my hip while I skated us around the rink. (I've got some fierce moves of my own.) This time... no way. Pax was only happy if his feet were on the ice, no buckets, just him and the open rink. We skated this way as long as my back was willing to endure it when I finally passed him off to Jeff. Minutes later, nestled against Jeff's shoulder while Jeff slowly skated around the rink, Pax fell completely asleep. On the ice. While ice skating. Asleep!!!!! Only this boy would go from skate to sleep in sixty seconds. ...Grandma happily obliged Small Boy with a brief nap off the ice.

What a fun adventure we had - a very Merry Christmas for all.

I saw this genius idea in some magazine (Family Fun, perhaps?) and I couldn't believe how content these boys were to play with cornmeal and Matchbox cars... all afternoon. Literally, this resulted in hours' worth of play. Admittedly, the cornmeal made more of a mess than I thought it would - it is pretty dusty and made the floor a bit slippery - but the enjoyment factor far outweighed the mess factor. We'll do this again, soon, maybe trying rice instead. I love afternoons like these, when Aidan arrives home from school and seeks the company of his brothers, a bucket of markers, and a bowl of popcorn. I love how Leo is consulting Aidan on what to do next, and I love how Pax is showing off his finished product.

And speaking of Pax and product.... this is what happens when I step out for a bit and leave Jeff in charge. (High marks, Jeff, for snapping all the pictures. You knew I would want to see it all, didn't you?)

Pax finds my "off season" purse (right after making the huge and terrible mess in the background) and wonders what this marvelous crayon might do....

You've gotta hand it to him - he's got the technique down pat.....
Pucker up, baby!!
America's Next CoverBoy:

...and finally, the latest bit of Pax Mischief: today, inexplicably, Pax refused to nap. Really, really refused. He was squirmy and fidgety and really funny; he kept making his "naah naah naah" face (fingers splayed out, thumbs in cheeks, sticking tongue out while saying naah naah naah) at me and trying to make me laugh. But I wasn't in a laughing mood, and I needed some space away from this boy. Frustrated, I gave up and left him in his bed, knowing that there was no chance he'd a) sleep or b) stay there, but I had to escape. Thankfully, he c) gave me three minutes in which to take some deep breaths and get it together again. He came downstairs and played quietly with Leo while I hid in the corner and stealthily ate some Butterfinger heart candy. Half an hour later, I decided to try again. I took Pax back to his room, and discovered this in his bed:

He had carefully and lovingly found a surrogate napper; Agent P (from the infamous Phineas and Ferb television show) was dutifully napping, snuggled under the carefully-arranged blankets and nestled in with Pax's Flippo lovey (the flat, blue hippo - Flippo). This time, I did laugh. Because Pax is so endearing in his tender care of his loveys and dolls, and downright astute in his surrogate choice - anyone who's seen the show will recognize what a perfect substitute Perry the Platypus (aka Agent P) is for a boy who is supposed to be napping.

(I've contacted Dr. Doofinshmirtz, who is presently working on a nap-i-nator for tomorrow afternoon....)

"While we try to teach our children all about life, our children

teach us what life is all about."

-Angela Schwindt

The Way of Boys

2012-02-05T13:30:00.003-05:00

Naobi Way of New York University was a featured guest lecturer at my university on Friday. Her lecture, "Boys and the Crisis of Connection," was one I knew I could not miss. Way, author and/or co-author of 7 books, including Deep Secrets, has spent 22 years in language-based empirical research focused on boys' resistance to cultural conventions. Did this lecture have Anne Carter written all over it, or what?

Her 50 minute presentation focused on the shift that occurs when boys become men, leaving adolescence behind and entering manhood. It is a complicated affair, made ever so much harder by our culture's expectations of masculinity and what it means to be a man.

Way's work is eye-opening, a game-changer that the world has yet to recognize, embrace. And so I've included a recap of her most important discoveries, plus a link to an audio recording of her lecture. Because it's too important to keep to myself.

Through her collections of stories from thousands of teenage boys, (spending 5 years interviewing each boy) Way describes her findings, which have been scientifically validated, over and over again. In her words, boys' stories sound so much more like love stories - forming strong attachments to a same sex friend; "going crazy" without a close male friend - and sound nothing like what you might expect to hear - stories of independence, solitude, competition, a la Lord of the Flies. Adolescent boys are not "emotionally illiterate" as our culture has stereotyped them to be. Adolescent boys recognize and value the role that a close friendship has on their overall health and well-being. In their own words, these boys observe that "without my best friend, I would go crazy. I would be so depressed. I would not be happy. I would kill myself." Adolescent boys share secrets - deep secrets - with their closest male friends. Even in China, in a culture vastly different than our own, one boy interviewed in a parallel empirical study said, "[translated] nobody knows what my heart wants to say if I don't have a friend."

(Read that sentence again. Is that the sentence of an "emotionally illiterate" boy?)

But then, in late adolescence, our culture demands that boys "become mature" and "embrace manhood." When boys abandon their close friends in order to embrace manhood, they become men who are autonomous, emotionally stoic, and disconnected. Suicide rates drastically increase as boys lose their connection to the one "who knows what [their] heart wants to say."

As human beings, we are set apart from other animals by our ability to feel and express emotion. What makes us human is our ability to make deep connections to other humans. When we ask boys to suppress their emotions, we are effectively asking half the population to not be human.

Boys are so much more complex than the flat stereotypes we apply to them. And we owe it to our boys - we owe it to our humanity - to re-examine what it means to be male. "Survival of the fittest" does not apply to us; human beings survive - and thrive - from being empathetic, cooperative, collaborative, and social. Thus, instead of focusing on what makes us different - our gender, for one - instead let the focus be on what is the same: the deep emotions we each feel; the desire to build and maintain strong connections with our fellow human beings; the love and bond we share with a best friend.

One boy observed, "It might be nice to be a girl. Because then you wouldn't have to pretend to be emotionless."

This left me heartbroken, the idea that boys are pretending to be emotionless. I also felt ashamed, keenly aware of the stereotypes and criticisms women tend to heap upon men for appearing to be just that - emotionless. What have we done to these boys? I kept thinking.

Way's entire talk can be found here. Please note that I used direct quotes whenever possible, but much of my recap was in Way's words; all credit for the above ideas and discoveries belong to Naobi Way.

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

The implications of Way's research are significant. I'm positive that you will find some conflicting research out there, and I'll even give you a head start. Michael Gurian, who is somewhat of a "boy expert," would argue how important it is for boys to be able to compete with each other, how boys desire a "quest" to follow, how boys often seek to assert their independence quite apart from friends and family. Gurian would also argue that boys are not "hard wired" toward empathy as girls tend to be, yet Way refutes this idea, stating that girls are simply allowed to express their feelings more than boys are, resulting in the perception of being more empathetic. (One only has to watch how a baby offers comfort to another, crying baby to know that empathy is largely cultivated). But what Gurian also attests to is the importance of developing a "tribe" comprised of family and friends whom boys can lean on, emotionally and socially, during the most difficult times in their lives. Gurian recognizes the absolutely essential role that boys' friendships play in healthy and happy development. Way and Gurian come to the same conclusions, albeit through different contexts. (For more on Gurian, see The Wonder of Boys).

So where does this leave us? For me, Way's lecture opened my eyes in many ways. I had no idea - no idea that the stories of boys' friendships sound so much like the stories of girls' friendships, centered and built upon the sharing of secrets, the tight bond, the feeling of love shared. I was astonished, really, to learn how alike boys and girls are in their bonds of friendship. I am grateful to know how important these friendships are, how imperative they are to the overall health and well-being of my sons.

And yet simply knowing is not enough. I will continue to challenge the stereotypes I hear about boys. (Like here). I will remember how much we are the same, talk less about how we are different. I will encourage my boys to build close friendships, to value those friendships. I will make space and time for my boys to grow their friendships. I will seek the company of like-minded mothers and fathers. I will continue to teach my sons how to express their emotions in an open and honest way, and I will validate and support their expressions. I will fill their lives with men who embody what I want them to be: sensitive, caring, empathetic, compassionate, emotionally open, expressive, loving.

And I will offer them the same.

The Fighter, The Lover, The Lap Cat

2012-01-28T20:30:00.001-05:00

The Fighter

Friday morning at the bus stop, I asked Aidan if he wanted to go to kumite (karate sparring) that night. (Secretly, I always hope he'll say no. I took him, once, and it was hard for me to watch. I admire and respect his Shihan (essentially, translated to master teacher) so much -

and I respect the discipline that karate instills in my son and in so many other children. I understand that the kumite is kind of the point of karate, and yet... I hate seeing kids hit each

other. Even when they are highly skilled, very impressive, very careful and respectful and simply honing their craft, without a trace of maliciousness or malevolent intent.) Anyway. I asked Aidan if he wanted to go to kumite.

"Yes," he replied with conviction. "I have a plan," he said.

I love this about him. I love that he is such a strategist. He thinks about what he'll do, plans the move he wants to focus on during the sparring match, and works hard to execute (His plan? Any time the opponent tried to deliver a roundhouse kick, Aidan thought he'd sweep him to the ground. We practiced at the bus stop - once. Thank god I still outweigh him more than twice his weight. And that I was wearing cleats.) I love watching him play chess with Jeff,

watching him work out problems with his potential moves, anticipating what Jeff might do. I love playing checkers with him, seeing how he counts remaining checkers, defends his last row against crowning kings. I love that he is competitive, eager to see how he'll fare against a bigger, more aggressive, more experienced opponents. I love this about him, because it is so different than how I am, how Jeff is. The "nature" argument wins in this debate. Aidan's competitive spirit is definitely innate. This boy, he is a fighter - a thinker, a strategist. I learn so much from

him.

The Lover

Leo loves to go and watch Aidan do karate and kumite. He's occasionally expressed interest in joining his brother, but ultimately opts to stick to his own pursuits - right now, ice skating and soccer. Still - he begs to accompany whomever is taking Aidan to the dojo, and sits quietly, taking it all in. I couldn't help but grin at the irony of Friday night, however, after they had all

returned home from kumite. Aidan headed straight for the shower; Leo, having bathed earlier, went straight for his sketch pad and markers. And proceeded to draw 8 of the most perfectly formed red hearts I've ever seen. Straight from watching 45 minutes of intense fighting (for there were some kicks to the head, blows to the jaw, tears, and struggle - ) he sat down at his table and colored eight red hearts. He is such a tender-hearted love.

The Lap Cat

If I'm sitting, chances are, my lap is full of a boy. A Pax boy. I affectionately call him my lap cat, alternately, my shadow - because if I'm sitting, it's with him. If I'm walking, he's behind me. I realized, quite suddenly, how much I will miss having a Lap Cat when this boy grows to be as big as either brother. The intimacy of the first years - of having a newborn who fits snug into one arm; an infant who nestles perfectly into your chest; a baby who drapes across your shoulder; a toddler who molds effortlessly into the jut of your hip - is something that cannot be replaced, only remembered. I will miss these lap cat days - mealtime, story time, play time, bed time, every time - these days of having laps and hips and arms full of a small, affectionate, delicious little person. Pax - my lap cat.

Resident Artists

2012-01-23T21:10:00.001-05:00

Aidan is one of those kids who prefers "process" over "product," and I'm one of those moms who encourages it. As a result, many of his crafts and paintings and art projects look amazing as he's working on them, but when he's finished experimenting, the end result not exactly refrigerator-worthy. But occasionally, he creates something really awesome, and this is my most recent favorite. It's quite timely for the Chinese New Year, which happens to be the Year of the Dragon:

Leo is an expressive artist, capturing his emotions, thoughts, and feelings through his frequent drawings and paintings. He draws stick figures who are crying when he is upset or angry; colors huge hearts to give to whomever is feeling sad; illustrates cards of himself holding hands with friends from his class; carefully constructs family portraits, labeling each character (cats; snowpeople; monsters) with our names. Recently, he drew this snowman:

"You know who that is by the snowman's heart?" he asked. "Who is it, Leo?" I replied. "That's God. Because God is always in your heart."

Yes, Leo, God is always in our hearts.

But you - and all those whom I love - are in my heart.

By e.e. cummings:

i carry your heart with me (i carry it in

my heart) i am never without it (anywhere

i go you go, my dear and whatever is done

by only me is your doing, my darling)

i fear

no fate (for you are my fate, my sweet) i want

no world (for beautiful you are my world, my true)

and it's you are whatever a moon has always meant

and whatever a sun will always sing is you

here is the deepest secret nobody knows

(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud

and the sky of the sky of a tree called life; which grows

higher than the soul can hope or mind can hide)

and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart

i carry your heart (i carry it in my heart)

The Ox

2012-01-17T14:21:00.003-05:00

According to the Chinese Zodiac, an Ox is someone who exhibits strength and determination. Our ox, Pax, certainly embodies those characteristics, most obviously in his determination to communicate - silently - and in his stubborn refusal, his strength - in trying to speak new words. I vacillate between admiring him for his downright beautiful miming skills, and feeling so frustrated and desperate for him to speak to us.

On this morning, however, no words could have made this scene more beautiful, tender, heartening. Largely unaware of my presence, Pax went about his caretaking in a most gentle and loving manner:

Pax climbed carefully on a step stool to reach diapers, a changing cloth, and wipes. Baby laid so still and so sweetly, ready to be freshened up:

I love the look of determination, tongue tucked between his teeth as he pulls out the wipe from the pouch...

Evidently deciding that Baby is happier unclothed, Pax gently trimmed each of Baby's toenails......then decided to trim his own.

Knowing how much Baby enjoys books, Pax chose a favorite - Snuggle Me, Snuggly - and nestled in for a quiet show of pictures.

I love you, my strong, determined Ox.

A Pirate's Life for Me!

2012-01-12T20:25:00.010-05:00

One month ago, I didn't even own a 2012 calendar. That was so... next year. I'd scribble in the random appointment, here or there, on the extra pages that followed December, pushing out any thought unrelated to the weeks of celebrating that lay ahead. How nice it will be, I kept thinking, to have two and a half weeks of freedom before my class starts again!

Ha. The first day of 2012 found me at the starting line with my sneakers laced tight - I was off and running. I had several lovely posts planned to start the new year. They seem rather... faded now, as only today - tonight - have my feet had the chance to touch the ground.

Five years ago, the time between Christmas, New Year's, and January 5 stretched far and wide, feeling like an eternity had passed between each date. This year, with Christmas behind us, New Year's upon us, and Leo's 5th Birthday looming on the horizon, all I could think was, his birthday is SO CLOSE to Christmas! New Year's! How did this happen??

Despite the frenetic pace of 2012, we managed to throw a mighty fine party to celebrate Leo's 5th year. Months ago, Leo decided on a pirate theme, so I set to work gathering ideas and brainstorming activities. I nearly set the house afire with the invites, but they were well worth the cost of listening to the smoke detectors (tea-stained and edge-burned, for authenticity):

Dissatisfied with the chintzy hats I found in catalogs and party stores, I commissioned my mom to make bandanas for each party-goer, and they turned out as cute as could be:

Knowing how crafty my kids are, and how much crafting the kids do in preschool, I turned to Family Fun for a pirate-themed craft idea. The kids looved making the parrots and teaching them how to speak like a pirate!

We played several fun games, including"Swab the Deck," a game that Aidan plays at the end of karate sometimes. Essentially, it's Simon Says with some pirate swagger. (My personal favorite is "Seasick", where each kid pretends to vomit all over the ship's deck. Ironic, given how the mere thought of puking can give me a vaso-vagal (fainting) response.)

The culminating event of the party, though, was the Hunt for Buried Treasure:
Scavenger Hunt Clues:

Follow your Captian (Leo) to the ship's deck
He will steer the boat so it won't wreck! (clue hidden on lower deck)

Land ho! Now everyone off the decks,
Through the grass to find a spot marked X. (clue hidden in garden box, under cardboard X)

Now up the hill, we won't be poor
if we find a treasure clue at the front door- (front door!!)

Single file, Mateys, through the cabin -
No lollygaggin', fightin', or blabbin' - (hidden inside a hat in the family room)

If you can't take the heat don't dillydally,
yer treasure awaits - go past the stove in the galley. (look to dining room)

Ahoy! With a pace that was steadfast and measured
you followed the rhymes to a merry treasure.
Enjoy some grog, a pirate brew -
you can have your treasure and eat it, too!

Let them eat cake! I am always amazed at my husband - a non-baker, non-cooker, non-crafter, - at his ability to swoop in at the 11th hour (literally - he found someone to cover the rest of his night shift the night before his party) and turn something good into something unforgettable.

We even had a chance to sing a little sea chanty -

Sea Chantey (to the tune of Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star)

I'm a pirate, that I be!
I sail me ship upon the sea!
I stay up late - till half past three!
And that's a peg below my knee!
I'm a pirate, that I be!
Come sail upon my ship with me!

All in all, it was a wonderful celebration for an amazing boy. I adore Leo for his fierce determination, his ability to go with the flow, his reflective and kind nature, and his mischievous grin. He is our beloved, FIVE year old son. Happy Birthday, Leo! Aaargh!

Why couldn't the pirate kids go to the movie? Because it was rated AARRGHH!!

What do you call the pirate who is really angry? A P-IRATE!! (irate, get it?)

Infusion

2011-12-31T20:11:00.005-05:00

I've been mulling over how to close out this year on my blog. I considered doing a "best of" or most favorite posts from this year, but decided that was a little too tedious and redundant. I thought about reflecting on the end to one year and the fresh start of a new year, but that seemed too contrived. I contemplated previewing 2012, but I was bored with myself after composing two sentences. Browsing through old posts, I found this little gem, published back in March, and decided it was a most fitting way to close out this year - a small tribute.

My heart is always with the people I know who have lost someone they love during the holiday season, as well as with those whose hearts are still reeling from earlier loss. I offer this story at the close of the year as a reminder that life comes full circle, that endings can be the beginning of something new, that in continuing ritual and tradition, we can honor most fully those whom we love.

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

My mother’s finest tea cups, Royal Doulton bone china laced with delicate flowers, lay before us on the table. At age 8, I could hardly believe my luck – it was Christmas Eve; I was up past bedtime (too excited to sleep, anyway); I got to use the fancy cups and drink tea with way too much sugar and milk.Best of all, seated around the base of the softly glowing Christmas tree were two of my most favorite women: my mom and her mom, my beloved grandmother. A tradition was born.

Each subsequent year, I looked forward to the Ladies’ Tea on Christmas Eve almost as much as I looked forward to everything else – the cookie making, the gifts, the magic of the season. I loved shooing out the men in our lives – my dad and my brother Adam– this was for girls only, we’d exclaim. They acted indignant, but it was all for show.

We shared tea for years and years and years. Our time together, like the tea we shared, was delicious and warm, infused with love. In 1993, when I was a freshman in high school, things changed. My beloved grandma died in the earliest hours of Christmas Eve, before we’d had a chance to drink our tea. It was not unexpected, yet the grief and pain of losing her on such an important and significant day shattered my heart like the fine china we’d sipped from. There was no tea that year….

….or the next one, either. I was angry that my grandma died on Christmas Eve, because the magic of Christmas was gone. Her death created a permanent stain in our teacups, one that refused to lift despite repeated scrubbing. Eventually, though, the stain began to fade, and our tradition resumed…

Many Christmas Eves later, when Adam was home for a visit and my future husband, Jeff, was staying with us, our tea tradition took a turn for the worse. Throwing our good sense down the drain along with the steeped tea leaves, my mother and I – the only women in the house – foolishly decided to allow the men to join us for tea, but only if they promised to be on their best behavior. We should have known that trouble lay ahead when they turned their noses up at our Darjeeling blend, insisting that their “tea” was a two finger pour of Glenfiddich. Apparently scotch and sugar cookies make for a boisterous pairing, because the tea had scarcely been served before my mother and I made a beeline for the door, away from the peals of laughter coming from the men. We loved them dearly, yet they had no appreciation whatsoever for the dignified, classy nightcap on our Christmas Eve. They’ve not been invited back.

In 2006, Adam, his partner Linsey, and their son Hugo joined us for Christmas; my mom and I were thrilled to have another woman join us for tea. Linsey had heard about this tradition before, and arrived prepared… with a new blend of “tea,” this one more of the bubbly and spirited kind. We exchanged our Wedgwood for Waterford, rose leaf tea for sparkling rosé.Although I was well past my 21^st birthday, I had the odd sensation of feeling like that eight year old again, experiencing my first grown up tea with the fine women in my life; the rosé proved to be a whole new kind of grown up tea.

Since Linsey’s tea with us those years ago, we’ve continued to faithfully set out the special Santa tea pot each year - but we’ve abandoned tea in favor of one variety or another of sparkling wine. Yet I sense that the eve is approaching, soon, when the tradition will change again, when we will go back to tea with way too much sugar and milk, for there are up-and-coming eight-year-olds in this house. I have no daughters, but I do have three very fine sons who will revel in the opportunity to sip tea on Christmas Eve with two of their favorite women ever – Mom and Grandma. Our time together promises to be delicious and warm, infused with love.

Time and Love

2011-12-30T20:03:00.006-05:00

Homemade Gifts, Year 2: Aidan sewed and decorated a pillowcase for Leo; Aidan sewed a bear lovey for Pax. Leo drew many beautiful pictures, painted a canvas, cut out letters, and mod-podged his collage together. Pax spent several hours creating a gorgeous 2012 calendar for his older brothers, that they hung in their room. Aidan and Leo each made ceramic pottery gifts for us (Aidan made the vases and bowl; Leo, the plate). My mother made me owl pajama pants, and my father made us gorgeous mahogany coasters with inlaid pieces of oak. Jeff macraméd bracelets for each boy, and I knitted scarves for each of them...

"Gifts of Time and Love are surely
the basic ingredients of a truly Merry Christmas."
-Peg Bracken

Merry Christmas to You!

2011-12-23T20:02:00.009-05:00

There is one part of Christmas this year that we did skip - again. Last year, we decided not to send out Christmas cards, and last year, it felt like a big stress reliever. This year, I didn't give cards a second thought, assumed I'd feel the same sigh of relief over not doing them - but I was wrong. Even when we staged a few "would-be Christmas Card Photos," (which, weirdly, I looove taking) I didn't feel any guilt over not sending them, nor any real desire to send them. It was only after it was far too late that I felt the pangs of regret. Perhaps a good and gentle reminder, again, why we don't skip Christmas.

And so, Friends, I offer instead this virtual Christmas card. I know that, in its virtual state, it will disappoint you just as much as a Nook or Kindle disappoints a true bibliophile - but it is heartfelt and sincere all the same, and it comes with a promise no hand-held device can ever make: next year, a lovely paper Christmas card will arrive in your snail mail box. I'm done with skipping Christmas cards.

"Our hearts grow tender with childhood memories and love of kindred, and we are better throughout the year for having, in spirit, become a child again at Christmas-time." -Laura Ingalls Wilder

(^^I absolutely LOVE this photo, because it was taken a nanosecond before Leo goosed me!
I laugh every time I see it. Oh, and since you're wondering... those are reindeer
embroidered on Aidan's pants. )

Merry Christmas, You!
Love,
Anne, Jeff, Aidan, Leo, and Pax

Doing Christmas

2011-12-21T21:37:00.011-05:00

John Grisham wrote a novel, Skipping Christmas, some years ago. Have you read it?

I believe it was in the moments before leaving for our church's pageant last Sunday - searching for a lost shoe behind a stack of Christmas books; mentally rehearsing the list of stuff I had to remember to bring; stepping on pine needles in bare feet while avoiding a newly broken ornament; hollering at Aidan to bring his script along; cajoling Leo into rehearsing his line, one more time - when the thought flashed, in blinking lights, across the marquee of my mind's eye - what would it would be like if we could just skip all of this, one year?

Arriving to church 4 minutes late, I worried if I'd get a glare from the pageant director for being tardy. I felt the stress weighing down on me, could sense it among the many parents tittering about, trying to coax toddlers into sheep's clothing; attempting to get the wise men to stop being such... wise asses; persuading the angels not to hit each other with their stars-on-a-stick. It wasn't just the pageant - it was the realization I'd had that morning, that Christmas was just one week away - and yet the cookies weren't baked; scarves weren't knitted; gifts weren't wrapped; last-minute items were still on the "to buy" list.....and on and on. I felt panicked and paralyzed, all at once.

And then, the pageant began. It was a lovely pageant. Aidan, in his role of Joseph, delivered his lines confidently and proudly, looking important and in-charge next to his sweet friend, playing the part of Mary. Leo, acting as the Angel Gabriel, bellowed into the microphone, "Fear Not, Mary! God is with you!" And Pax, along with half a dozen other toddlers, played the part of the errant and wandering sheep quite beautifully, save for a short game of chase around the communion rails with none other than a pastor's son. As we smiled and laughed, I began to feel the burden lift from my shoulders as I watched our children deliver the story of Jesus's birth, happily and excitedly. Still, I was antsy to leave, to get home and start checking items off my endless list. I'd made a promise to the kids though, - that we'd stay to help decorate the tree in the sanctuary - and I groaned and moaned, knowing I had no choice but to honor it.

But then it happened - one of those moments in time that you remember for always, one of those moments when you are in "the zone," where you know how good it is, even as it is happening. So you drink deeply and thirstily and you are aware, so aware of every sound and smell and taste and sight and feeling, because you are present...

In the sanctuary, children unpacked and unwrapped large and ornate ornaments from boxes to hang on a towering and fragrant pine tree. Older kids lifted younger kids up to reach branches higher and higher. Grown-ups stood on ladders, adjusting the star on top and the white twinkling lights. In another corner, two men stood on ladders, taking down the huge advent wreath and replacing it with a large, pointed, brightly lit star. Three women dressed and undressed the altar, changing out the blues of advent for celebratory whites celebrating Jesus' birth. Two trumpets and the organist practiced "Joy to the World!" as Sunday School teachers moved out props from the pageant. Ushers mounted candle holders to the ends of each pew as the Pastor moved from one person to the next, answering questions, giving input, praising efforts. And I - I stood in the middle of it all, in the middle of the most beautiful chaos and most harmonious noise I've experienced. The finest Hollywood directors could not have orchestrated a better scene. And all I could think was - skip this? Are you kidding??

There have been many other, smaller moments when I've been so glad not to be skipping Christmas:

The parties! My, have we enjoyed the parties this year. Jeff and I even hired a babysitter for one and had a fabulous time at our party-date. I can't imagine skipping the parties.

In the midst of my angst about not finishing homemade Christmas gifts in time, I found myself asking, why do I do this to myself? Why didn't I start sooner? Why didn't I just buy stuff instead?... and then the gifts got finished, and wrapped, and each of them - the ones I made; the ones Jeff made; the ones each of the kids have made - are more beautiful and more perfect than I could have hoped for.... I can't imagine skipping homemade.

Stressed about needing to bake so many cookies (11 dozen in all - most of which will be distributed to the patients on the hospital floor where Jeff works), I wondered why on earth I thought it was a good idea to have Pax help me with the cookie prep. And then... I witnessed just why it was a good idea. He ran the hand mixer, cracked eggs, rolled dough, and sugared cookies like a seasoned chef.... I can't imagine skipping cookie baking with small boy.

Puzzled over the number of ornaments hanging up on our Advent calendar, Aidan, Leo, and I quickly realized what had happened: Pax had surreptitiously taken out the remaining ornaments from the calendar's pockets and hung them carefully on the lowest branch of the small advent tree - the only branch he could reach. We laughed and laughed and giggled some more over our mischievous little elf boy. I can't imagine skipping that kind of laughter.

Piling into our car after bath many evenings, we drive around the neighborhood, admiring the beautiful light displays in our cozy, sweet community. I can't imagine skipping the lights show.

In the end, as it is with Skipping Christmas, we realize that we cannot skip Christmas. And why would we want to? For when we are able to step back, let go of what doesn't matter, embrace what does matter, that is when we are Doing Christmas. We Do Christmas for each other. For our children, our community, our friends, and our family. Because of the joy we get from seeing each other's houses lit up in lights. From watching our children perform in the pageant. From celebrating at parties, swapping cookies, from time spent together making gifts, from laughing over mischief, from so many more moments that wouldn't - couldn't - possibly happen if we skipped Christmas.

Happy Doing.

Dear Reader

2011-12-18T15:44:00.006-05:00

Kate DiCamillo is the author of several highly acclaimed children's books (including The Tale of Despereaux, Because of Winn-Dixie, The Miraculous Journey of Edward Tulane, and more.) One technique she uses as a writer is at first a little unnerving, the way she addresses the reader of her book - but I quickly grew fond of how her voice spoke to me, Dear Reader, as I read her well-crafted tales...

And so, Dear Reader, this post begins with an address to you:

I've gotten so much feedback from recent posts I've written, and I deeply appreciate all of it. From the small core of loyal readers who send me sweet emails now and again to the true strangers who took the time to send me a note - it means so much to me. Thank you.

"Mostly Boy" resulted in many readers sending me links to excellent essays on similar topics, so I've included them here:

This article comes from an excellent website, rethinkingschools.org. I love that this teacher speaks not only with authority and expertise, but also with humility and honesty in dealing with her own struggles and stereotypes. When I dream of changing the world through education, I dream of schools filled with teachers just like this one...

I liked this article too, because it spoke to the tremendous courage of parents who truly understood their child and who unfailingly demonstrated their unconditional love and acceptance.

This was a fun read, too, and a nice, light-hearted change from the heavier content of the first two articles.

And finally, here's another essay on Santa Claus (find my own thoughts here). I love how this writer connects Santa to all those people around them whose hearts are filled with joy - a beautiful testament to the power of the magic of Christmas.

...that is all for now, Dear Reader. But tune in soon for the ongoing tales of a karate-kicking Joseph, a mighty Angel Gabriel, and a wayward sheep, coursing and bleating his way in a short game of chase around the communion table....

Small People, Small Places, Small Things

2011-12-13T09:00:00.005-05:00

"Many small people, in many small places, do many small things,

that can alter the face of the world."

(Excerpt taken from the Berlin Wall, East Side)

...and it is the small people from this small place who are doing small things this season.

Recently, we experimented with a new tradition in our family. It began in 2009, when I was desperate to do something - anything - to help some families who were really struggling that season. One family was consumed by grief; the other, drowning in worry. Their pain brought to mind the last Christmas season we had with my grandmother before her death on Christmas Eve; she had been under hospice care and living in our home for some weeks. Thinking of that Christmas season, I was flooded with a most wonderful memory - the night the carolers showed up on our doorstep. Two dozen members of our church came to our home and sang one carol after another. Their voices were beautiful, but the warmth, love, support, and cheer they provided were what we needed - and enjoyed - the most.

So in 2009, we caroled. I asked my playgroup friends (and all the kids, of course!) to go with me to one home. We carried bells and maracas and song sheets and sang every song we could think of. Another night, our little family of five traveled to the hospital for a private concert for a most receptive audience. Reflecting on those experiences, I realized that they were the most meaningful parts of that season. I was determined to do more.

In 2010, Jeff and I planned out four service projects for our family, corresponding with each week of Advent. One week, the boys drew lovely cards for four people from our church and our community who were in need of some tender loving care that year. One had just lost his beloved wife; another was unable to leave his house anymore and was struggling with loneliness and isolation.

The second week, we collected extra towels and blankets from the closet. We shopped for toiletries, the boys each contributing funds from his piggy bank to help with the cost. Once our bags were overflowing, we donated the goods to the day haven/shelter that takes care of so many homeless women and men in our community. The boys were wide-eyed but respectful and friendly to each of the grateful friends we met that day.

The third week, we selected a few brand-new toys and a handful of gently used board books to donate to a family our church was sponsoring that Christmas. Aidan and Leo were so careful in making sure to select toys they thought the little girl would love, and they delighted in getting to wrap the gifts.

The fourth week, we baked the communion bread for the worship services on Christmas Eve. The kids were very proud of their bread, pleased that it would feed the whole church.

This year, it began with a goat. I fell in love with the baby goat featured on the cover of the ELCA's Good Gifts catalog, and I knew I wanted one.... to go to a family in Africa. Jeff and I drafted a list of chores and dollar amounts that the kids could choose to do to earn money for our goat. I decorated a small box that served as our "goat kitty" (maaa-eow), and for two solid weeks, the kids worked hard - cheerfully, and diligently - to fill the box. [Amendment: only after I assured Leo that we would not, in fact, ever have the goat at our house.] Pax fed the kitties and helped unload the dishwasher. The older boys cleaned the basement, put away laundry, wiped down sinks and counters, dusted, and even raked leaves at my parents' house. On the date we'd designated as our deadline, we discovered we were $2 short. The kids hustled and bustled around the house, tidying and straightening, dusting and cleaning. We praised them for their hard work and their cheerful spirits; we finalized our purchase of the goat, and during dinner, we discussed what that goat might be doing that very minute, whether she was feeling excited or nervous to go meet her new family.

Inspired by the book I mentioned in a previous post, Jeff and I are excited about the microloan we are financing through kiva.org . The website connects lenders to people all over the world for whom a tiny loan - $25 - could make all the difference to their families. The hardest part of lending the money was deciding whom to lend to, for every one of the bios we read came from very worthy and deserving people. Ultimately, we chose to sponsor a mother of three from Zimbabwe who will use her loan to purchase groundnuts which she'll use to make peanut butter.

Next week, we'll spend several days baking a variety of cookies that we'll package in cute bags and send to work with Jeff to give to his patients. If I find it hard to have a husband who has to work holidays (this year, we're lucky - he's off for Christmas Eve & Day) -- I can only imagine how much harder it is for the actual patients at the hospital.

And finally, we'll bake the bread again for our worship services on Christmas Eve. Our gifts are small. They come from the work of small hands, in this small place. But our gifts of service are among the most important gifts we can offer. I don't know about altering the face of the whole world, but our tradition of service has forever altered our little world. And hopefully, our gifts will change the world of a family in Africa, whose goat will provide milk, cheese, and eventually, kid goats; and our gift will change the world of one mom in Zimbabwe, using the profits of her harvest to send her children to school and to bring her family out of poverty.

Gift of the Magic

2011-12-05T19:42:00.013-05:00

It happened one chilly morning in mid-October, the moment when I knew I needed to have The Talk with my oldest son. We were sitting in the warm car, waiting for the school bus to arrive. I asked quite casually, "So what do you think you'll ask Santa for this year?"

Aidan gave me a long, sideways glance as Leo began brainstorming a list of possible ideas. "I know why you are asking us," Aidan said to me. I ignored him, wondering where on earth he was going with this line of thinking. "I know why you're asking about Santa," he repeated. I continued to ignore him, pretending to give my undivided attention to Leo's list, when I heard him mutter, "It's because YOU are the one who buys the Santa gifts." He said it with a tiny hint of anger, and a whole lot of curiosity in his voice, as if he were testing out the theory aloud.

I looked at him sharply and said, "You better watch what you say." He ignored me and said to Leo, "Hey Leo, I know why Mom wants to know what we want Santa to bring us." "Aidan," I said to him pointedly, giving him my Mad Mama look - "You had better be careful what you say."

Leo was blissfully unaware of the conversation between Aidan and me; he was engrossed in a conversation with himself about the possibility of a Real Robot being delivered by Santa.

Aidan looked at me and said, with a hint of defiance, "I know what I want Santa to bring me. I want him to bring me a picture of Rudolph. Because then I'll know for sure."

The bus pulled up and Aidan took off, leaving me to mull over our conversation during much of the day. I had to laugh at the cleverness of his request for a photo - until I realized that Google images plus Photoshop plus a little bit of magic might just yield one awfully realistic Rudolph....

Later that afternoon, I pulled Aidan aside. For The Talk.

"Aidan, I want to tell you a couple of things about Santa Claus. I want you to know that if you have decided not to believe in Santa Claus anymore, that's okay. But I want you to know some things. First, I want to share a story with you from when I was a girl growing up in Grandma and Grandpa's house with Uncle Adam. Do you know how we put out beer and cookies for Santa, and carrots for the reindeer every year on Christmas Eve? Your Uncle Adam and I did the very same thing when we were living with Grandma and Grandpa, even when we were big kids home from college. Every single year, I have laid out cookies for Santa - and then you came along, and you took over for me.

I also want you to know that the best gift that my older brother ever gave me at Christmas was that he let me believe in Santa Claus for as long as I wanted to. He never questioned whether or not Santa Claus was real, he never tried to convince me that he wasn't, and he never teased me or made fun of me for believing in Santa. It was the greatest gift, and I admire him so much for being such a wonderful and kind older brother.

Now I want to tell you what I love the most about Santa. Santa Claus is magic. One year, we had a very sad thing happen in our family. My grandmother died, on Christmas Eve, and it was such a sad Christmas for us. On Christmas night, something magical happened. There was no snow in the forecast, and the sky was very clear and bright. Suddenly, it started to snow - and snow - and snow! We couldn't believe it. Grandpa and Uncle Adam and I went for a long walk in the snow that night, and we kept looking up at the snow-filled sky, dragging our boots to make patterns in the snow, and laughing, because it was so magical. We never expected the snow - and there it was.

Another year, more recently, some other kind of magic happened on Christmas. The father in a family that we know had lost his job, and the mom and dad had no idea how they would buy food that month, let alone Christmas presents. One day, the mom went out to the mailbox - and discovered that someone had sent them a very large gift card for Target. To this day, the family has no idea where that card came from, but not only did they have plenty of food that month, they also had some presents under the tree, too. It felt like magic, to receive such a wonderful gift, especially when they didn't know quite where it came from.

And so, Aidan, I want you to think about these things. I want you to know that I believe in the magic of Santa, because wonderful things happen at this time of year, and often we don't know how they happened or where they came from. And I want you to remember the gift my brother gave me, and I want you to think about if you might want to be the same kind of brother to Pax and Leo that Uncle Adam is to me."

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

Many weeks later, Aidan and I were shopping at the mall, just the two of us, when we happened upon Jolly Old Saint Nick. Aidan was delighted at the chance for a private conversation with Santa, and was grinning with excitement. Santa invited him to come sit on his lap, but Aidan replied, "No thank you, I gotta bring my brothers back so we can all sit with you together!"

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

And my final defense of Santa (for I've written about him before, here) is that while the focus in our family will always remain on the celebration of the birth of Jesus, we will forever make room on our mantel for the stockings, as well. Jesus and Santa are not mutually exclusive. Grace, hope, love, light in dark places, peace, joy -- God is our Provider. But the sense of magic, the anonymous giving - those come from Santa.

Tradition

2011-11-30T17:40:00.005-05:00

Prepare, Anticipate, Wait, Hope, Believe... the verbs that bring us ever closer to Christmas.

For many years, one favorite part about preparing for Christmas was decorating the tree. Sometimes, I've managed to whip up a fresh batch of cookies alongside a hot mug of cocoa just before tree trimming began. We'd have the Christmas carols already queued up on the CD player with a fire crackling gently in the background. We'd take our sweet time unwrapping each ornament, reveling in the memory of where it came from or when we got it, joking about where to put THAT ORNAMENT - you know, that hideous one that you keep hoping will break-- yet every year, it remains indestructible. We'd stop to admire our work, munch on some cookies, sip our cocoa, perhaps pause for a lovely photo shoot, carefully framing one child or another in a worth-a-thousand-words picture.

This year? Yeah, not so much. No photographic proof of this year's decorating, please. It was Frantic. Crazed. Loud. Crying and fighting over the ridiculous possessiveness of inanimate objects quickly ensued. We had a mute two year old who would get frustrated, then start slinging and hurling ornaments at us when he didn't get what he wanted. Aidan (whom I dubbed "Tree Nazi" under my breath) was ordering Leo not to touch ANY ornament that wasn't his, then gloating over all the ornaments that he (Aidan) had made or had been given. I desperately searched through box after box (while dodging Pax's pitches) to find ONE ornament that had Leo's name on it, but could only unearth more of Firstborn's. (I had a sudden flashback to my own "unfair" childhood of having a brother 7 years my senior with four sets of doting grandparents and great-grandparents whose tradition was shower him with ornaments.... that tradition lost its luster by the time I came along. I spent my childhood trying to catch up.) Jeff was inexplicably occupied with... I have no idea what. Something, in another room.

We had eaten all the snickerdoodles the day before, so we didn't have any cookies to nosh on. It was 60 degrees and sunny, ruling out the hot cocoa and crackling fire. And our recently-replaced ipod didn't have Christmas songs on it; our new laptop doesn't have itunes yet. With cacophonous and loud voices, Aidan and Leo sang "Jingle Bells, Batman smells, Robin laid an egg..." until in total desperation I went old-school and scrounged up the *actual* CD from whence all this music originated (... and played it on the DVD player, because who even has CD players anymore?)

But the music did little to cover up the wails and whines of the natives. We got approximately 1/8 of the ornaments hung up when I called it quits. "That's it!" I shouted in exasperation. "We're finished. I'm not doing this any more." I was really, really annoyed that these children were ruining my favorite part of decorating.

I pouted for awhile. No one noticed, no one else seemed disappointed.... except for me. I brooded over this for awhile, until I eventually realized - this year, prepare, anticipate, wait, hope, believe wouldn't include lovely memories of tree trimming - but it would include other things, instead. (Like me, finishing the decorating by myself, wine in hand and Harry Connick, Jr. crooning in the background.) And that's okay.

Prepare: the kids were dead-set on making gifts for each other again this year, even though I offered to take them shopping, individually, for gifts for each other. I love this. The hand-made's tale is working; the kids balked at store-bought gifts. Aidan already knew exactly what he wanted to make for each of his brothers, and my heart swelled with the warmth of his kindness.

Anticipate: Leo can't stop talking about being the Angel Gabriel in this year's Christmas Pageant. He loves what message Gabriel brings to Mary. "You know what that angel, you know what he said to that girl who had Jesus? He said Do not be afraid."

Wait: for new memories to be made, for new traditions to cherish.

Hope: that our service projects turn out as well as we've planned them to be. That we earn enough money to buy our goat for a family in Africa, that Jeff's patients will enjoy homemade cookies, that our church is well-fed with the communion bread we'll bake. That Jeff and I will choose a woman who will prosper through the help of our microloan. (Elaboration required in a future post).

Believe: in Santa. (Again- another future post to come.) Believe in the good news that comes with the celebration of Jesus' birth. Believe in kindness and goodness and generosity and compassion and love that is most evidenced this time of year.

...and know, with certainty, that tree trimming will become a lovely, calm, cherished tradition again. And in the meantime, I will love the chaos and the cacophony, and the children who make it so.

Thanksgiving

2011-11-23T19:55:00.009-05:00

This Thanksgiving, our tree of thanks was filled with many of the same things we filled it with last year - in short, health and happiness, a wealth of love and friendship. I'm grateful, then, that so little has changed in this past year, that I still have so much to be thankful for: a healthy, happy family. Loving and supportive parents. Wonderful friends. I still have our beloved church family. The pursuit of my higher education. I still know how very lucky I am - for a home; for a husband with a good, stable job; for health insurance and working vehicles and money for food and shelter and clothing and some extras, too. For our happy kids. For our happy couple-ness.

And therefore, when so much remains the same, what is different this year? Stepping outside my comfortable and cozy surroundings, I'm so grateful for the courage I see in others. I know one really courageous kid who is putting up a mighty fight against the cancer that has invaded her body. A friend's mother who is waging her own terrific war against her cancer. I know a kid who is dealing with the death of her sister and her best friend, all in a span of two years. So many more people who have been forced to battle hardships and devastation and loss - and do so with great courage.

Last week while we were on the Downtown Mall, I saw, for the first time, the hundred or so people camped out as part of the "Occupy" movement. I was struck by their courage, their commitment, their dedication to the cause and the desire to be the change in this world. I'm grateful for the strong community they have developed, and grateful for how this movement has included - and benefitted - many homeless men and women. In my fussy church clothes, I felt overdressed and embarrassed to share the sidewalk with them, especially as my heart swelled with pride and gratitude for what they were doing for ME - just one of the 99%.

I just finished reading an Important Book. Written by a husband-and-wife, Pulitzer Prize-winning couple, Half the Sky details the marginalization of women across the globe, and describes what, exactly, we might do about it. Passionate, full of empathy, dedicated to recording the hard truths, this book is difficult to read, because of its content, yet demands the reader's undivided attention, because of the change that might result if we pay attention. I'm so grateful for this book, the people in this book, the groups and the individuals who try so hard to make life better. I'm grateful because this book is quietly working its way into my life. I'm grateful for new contexts, new perspectives, and new possibilities this book has forced me to consider.

I remain forever grateful.

Mostly Boy

2011-11-16T12:38:00.007-05:00

Before I married Jeff, I spent much of my time chasing after cute boys, trying to gain their attention and earn their affection. Somehow, life isn't much different these days - except that my life is richer and fuller than I could have ever hoped it to be, with four adoring males in my life. How did this girl get so lucky?

I suppose this is the lighthearted way of easing in to what continues to trouble me. It's my Achilles heel of parenting, I suppose. Some complain of the Mommy Wars; I don't much care what other moms are doing and not doing. Me, I have an issue with the Gender Wars.

"You need a girl."

"Are you going to try again for a girl?"

"Three boys?! Poor Mommy!"

"You wouldn't understand about the pink hearts on her shirt, because you don't have girls."

I seethe when I hear comments like these. How often do you hear the opposite? How often do you hear these comments made about boys? While I understand that most who say these things aren't trying to be hurtful, the bottom line is the same: what you have isn't good enough.

"You need one with blonde hair."

"Are you going to try for one that's not deaf?"

"Your son is gay? Poor Daddy!"

You wouldn't understand that gender doesn't matter.

Sometimes I hear people say, "Oh, he's all boy." And while this one doesn't make me angry as much as the others, it does make me wonder. What does that mean, exactly, to be all boy? I believe what they mean is a short-hand version of "Oh, that child is so full of energy! He's on the go, and no one better stand in his way, or he might get aggressive. He is definitely assertive about what he wants. He pushes and shoves and only runs, never walks. He is loud and exuberant and fills up all the space in this room. He loves cars and trucks and and sports and blue stuff."

But when someone describes a child as being all boy, it leaves room for little else. It crowds out the space for what else that child is, or what he could grow to be: sensitive, kind, compassionate, empathetic, tender, gentle, loving.

(In the same vein, saying that a child is "all girl" (do people say that?) leaves little space for what else they can be: strong, assertive, independent, powerful. I'm pretty sure no one ever described me as "all girl.")

I was smitten with Jeff long before I got his attention and earned his affection. We were very close friends, however, and I suffered through watching him court other girls. One day in his dorm room, he showed me a list he'd created. It was labeled "How to Be a Boy." It detailed a great number of ways he thought he needed to change in order to be more like a boy, things like "Don't call her back right away. Make her wait." and "Don't write any more poetry for her." The list was a contradiction to the qualities I adored most about Jeff - all the things that made him "mostly" boy. Qualities like his expressive poetry, his kind and gentle actions, his sensitive and caring words and his sweet perspective on life.

Luckily, the list didn't work. The girl moved on from him, and Jeff (eventually) moved on to me. Where I continue to adore and appreciate how "Mostly Boy" he continues to be.

So when people make these comments to me, I bite my tongue. I mentally retort with a snarky comment or a question that makes them equally uncomfortable. But it hurts my feelings. It makes me angry.

Still, these comments make me stand taller and prouder than ever of my Mostly Boys. Who are loud and exuberant, who fill up the space of a room, who like to wrestle and have boundless energy. Who write poetry and weave wall hangings and sew gifts for each other and wear pink shirts. And to ease the hurt, I remind myself of the kindest, most affirming thing anyone has ever said to me when she found out I was having another boy. "Oh Anne, I am so glad. We need more women like you raising boys."

So that's what I'm doing. I'm raising Mostly boys.

Gem Collector

2011-11-07T21:34:00.012-05:00

I collect these little gems, to enjoy their sparkle on a grayer day.....

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

The kids have not adapted well to the time change. They never do! Despite keeping them up an hour later on the night daylight savings ended, they were still up before the crack of dawn. The next morning, a school morning, it was the same deal. (The irony here was that last week, I fussed at the boys a lot one morning after we had to chase the bus down, since they had dragged their feet so much in getting ready. Their solution? Get up half an hour earlier. Um, no?) The third morning of early waking, Aidan came into my room, abruptly woke me and announced, "Leo turned his light on, and he is playing with his slinky under the covers." He promptly turned around and walked out, leaving me half-awake and completely disoriented, trying to work out the meaning. Was this a clever euphemism, I wondered? Nah, I realized. Leo really does have a slinky that he's been playing with.

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

This weekend, Aidan and I enjoyed a rare treat: a just-the-two-of-us date. I took him to lunch and we shopped for supplies he needs for the Christmas gifts he's making for his brothers. As we sat down at the table in the cozy, sun-light, warm room in a corner of Bodo's, he looked straight at me and asked with urgency, "Mom, do birds have eyelashes?" I loved this. I absolutely love how his mind works, how important it was to him to know the answer, how he'd clearly been trying to work it out for himself. I don't think that question has ever crossed my mind, not once. I wonder, then, how it came to him. I love that he catches me off guard, asks me something that really forces me to think. I love, too, that these are questions I can eventually answer (thanks, google), unlike the hard ones for which I still don't know quite what to say: What should I do when she is so mean to me? Why did he say that to me on the bus? Why did my fish have to die?

In case you're still wondering, eyelashes are usually found only on mammals, although the occasional rare bird is known to have them as well. Kind of like my rare bird, who asks such important questions.

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

I'll never tire of the literary gems my children offer. Aidan's teacher told me about this awesome website, storybird.com, where people of all ages can create stories in a very user-friendly format, with clever artwork. One quiet afternoon before Halloween, Aidan dictated a creative story to me about a haunted house. I swooned when he delivered the following line: "The skeleton went back to the graveyard and said a poem that summoned his friends up from under the ground." Summoned? Said a poem??? Literary genius, this one is!!

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

Leo is having a bit of a tough time right now. After all, he's the dreaded F word- FOUR. Luckily, things aren't quite as painful for me on the parenting end as they were at this same time with Aidan. So in moments of frustration and angst, I remind myself of some of Leo's very best qualities.

I've alluded this in previous posts, but Leo is having a bit of trouble with one particular boy at his school - whom I've called Mean Boy. He has tried "inoring" him (silent g in Leo's pronunciation). He has tried avoiding him. He has tried distracting him with strange diversions, like telling him jokes that couldn't possibly make sense, even to four-year-olds. (Mom, why did the cat cross the street? Because she was eating bananas, ha ha ha! Get it?)

But the most tender and kindest attempt at making Mean Boy have a change of heart about teasing and tormenting Leo is one that Leo devised all on his own. He decided to draw Mean Boy a card. And he did, and it was beautiful. He even included a "symbol salad" across the bottom (a sequence of random letters) in the hopes that he had written something. He was so proud, and so happy to deliver his card to Mean Boy. And while the long-term effect remains to be seen, it certainly appears that Leo's kind gesture was well-received. Again, I am humbled by the open, loving, and forgiving hearts of small children.
**************************************

I've saved the biggest gem for last. Although even as I prepare to write it, I know that not even a highly skilled writer (unlike me) could truly do justice to the gestures and facial expressions that would make this story scintillate.

As I've mentioned before, Pax has almost no expressive language. (speech therapy starts Thursday - hooray!!) And so he relies heavily on his expressive gestures and facial expressions to communicate his wants and needs. Dinner prep at our house is a rather torturous time of day. Pax, in particular, whines and fusses and pulls at my pants and begs to be picked up and fed. I try hard to resist his pleas, though, because pre-dinner snacks - no matter how healthy -ruin his appetite.

He's also a picky eater, so I give him small portions of everything that I'm offering, never sure what - if any of it - will make it to his belly. Last night, I served him one quarter of a veggie burger on a bun. He took one big bite out of it before we'd even said grace, then handed the rest of it to me as soon as we finished praying. I figured he didn't like it, so I put it off to the side of my plate. I took one bite of my own burger, with its melty cheese, toasted bun, and the perfect amount of each condiment - but barely had time to chew that bite before Pax was pointing and grunting that he wanted something different. Puzzled, I showed him that he had all the same things on his plate that were on my plate. I offered him more potatoes, more macaroni, more salad. No, no, and no. He abandoned the pointing and started army-crawling across the table to me. He pointed right at the burger in my hand. I shrugged and handed it to him, thinking he'd give it right back once he saw it was the same.

In a made-for-a-McDonald's-commercial gesture, he made "big eyes" as he held the burger out far from his mouth, then brought it in close, then back out again, practically salivating like Pavlov's dogs. He took one big bite. Then another. Then another, until I was begging for him to give it back. He paused, looked me straight in the eye, then pointed to the small bit of leftovers he'd handed to me earlier in the meal with a look as if to say, "See? There's yours." He continued to eat and eat and eat, shooting furtive glances at me whenever he thought I was giving up my fight. Finally, he put down the last bit of the sandwich on his napkin. I reached over to retrieve it but his ketchup-covered fist got to it first. He protectively pushed his hand down on top of the bun and glared at me with a look that said "Don't you dare touch this burger!"

I told Jeff that tonight, we're switching places at the dinner table.

Happy Halloween!

2011-11-01T20:08:00.003-04:00

Fearless, Brave, and Ready for Action: SuperAidan and his trusty sidekick, Batman!
Our resident Vampire Pax: because he bites and keeps terrible night hours.
Yahoo!! Trick or Treat time!!

**********
Another Halloween for the books!! What great fun we had. The costumes came together so well - I don't know why I always doubt that they will, but I do - thanks to Jeff for the design of much of the costuming, and to my mom for sewing the beautiful capes for each boy!

At first, I thought it was a little silly that Aidan chose to be SuperAidan. A little humility, perhaps? But the more I thought about it, and reflected on what school-aged kids deal with on a daily basis, the more I decided it was a wonderful choice, that he was so "full of awesome" about himself. I love his superhero stance - deliberate, strong, convincing - and I loved how much he enjoyed being himself this Halloween.

Admittedly, I was just a teeny bit disappointed when Leo chose to be Batman. Last year's choice was so creative - Superwhy - and I was hoping for something equally cool - and literary-themed. But I should never have doubted his choice; the boy is made for tight tights and short shorts, and his heart-shaped Batman mask was as endearing to me this year as his glasses were last year.

Pax was in his element this year as a trick-or-treater. I've never seen a cuter nor more convincing vampire, and I loved watching him walk confidently up to each house and hold out his bag with a grunt. I loved watching him chase his brothers and swing his cape around. Pax the Vampire: charming, handsome, wicked. Our neighbors, who are so sweet to our boys, had bought them each a special marker-and-felt coloring set, in addition to the candy they gave them. When Greg held out the coloring set to Pax, he took one look at it, shook his head, and pointed to the candy instead.

Ephemeral

2011-10-21T20:11:00.005-04:00

This picture is from lunch today - the three of us had been sitting around the little table, eating our bowls of cereal and discussing what we'd done that morning (a full preschool report from Leo, including how he handled Mean Boy successfully; my attempt to explain the walk that Pax and I took with a new friend to Leo, who couldn't fathom we'd done anything besides sit and wait for him to return home....)

We were each sitting in our own chairs, but after I got up from the table, Pax started inching closer and closer to Leo. Unsatisfied with his progress, he finally got out of his chair and shimmeyed in next to Leo on his chair, bringing his bowl of soup with him. It was as if he couldn't stand not being close to Leo for one more minute. I grabbed the camera and got the above shot, before I was detected....

Here, they know they've been caught - and so they've turned into little hams, happy as can be to share this tiny chair, knowing that it is silly - and special.

I'm collecting these moments. I'm acutely aware of how fleeting my time with Leo is, since he'll be off to kindergarten next year. I'm keenly aware of how different life will be next year, missing two boys in the house, not just one. I'm immensely grateful for the time these two have together, for the bond that they've forged, for the joy they find in sharing an undersized chair, eating soggy cereal. It seems as Pax sensed it today, the ephemeral time we have together, and so he wanted just a little more Leo for himself.

And I'm struggling, too, with the realization that, while our family is perfect and complete, I'm not ready for this to be over. I'm not ready to give up this full-time, all day, every day career. I'm being outsourced of a job I'm not ready to leave. I knew, even when I penned this post, how fast the days would go, how soon I'd be collecting memories of THIS year, this year before my Leo Leo goes to kindergarten. And so I collect, and I savor, and I relish, and I revel, and I remember.

Fondest Heart

2011-10-17T13:30:00.003-04:00

I've decided it's good to find out what it feels like to miss your kids. Not often, mind you, but once-in-a-blue-moon, perhaps.

Jeff and I enjoyed our first-ever, kid-free weekend. It was marvelous. We rented a condo at a large lake not too far away from our own home, and another couple joined us for an unforgettable adventure. We left our children in the protective, capable, and loving hands of my parents, where we knew they'd have some unforgettable adventures of their own.

What struck me was the silence of it all. So much silence. Space to breathe and to think, time to let a complete thought carry out in my mind. Not that I did much of that - no worrying, no stressing, no thinking about to-do lists or upcoming school assignments. We lived very much in the moment, and we were very present that way. I can't remember a recent time when I've laughed so much or been so relaxed. It was exactly the time this tired mama needed - time alone; time with my husband; time with our dearest friends.

And yet by Sunday morning, I was excited to go home. Unused to sleeping through the night, I had awakened the night before and started missing my loveys something terrible. When we arrived home, I just kept thinking about how lucky I was. How lucky I am. These kids are MINE! These are awesome kids! They are beautiful. They smell so good. God, they are so freaking cute! And funny! And lovely! And they're MINE! I held each of them, inhaled their sweet, yummy scent...

...and fell in love, all over again.

Two: Snapshots

2011-10-09T14:19:00.018-04:00

Pax Augustus Carter turned 2 years old just two weeks ago. We had a family celebration that started with gift opening, a favorite breakfast, a lot of time to play with new toys, and then a long nap. Rested again, we set out for Bounce n Play, a huge indoor "playground" of air-filled bounce houses, slides, and play sets. Exhausted, sweaty, and thoroughly filled with glee, we headed to dinner. Given his absolute love of hot dogs, naturally, we headed to the local hot dog joint that serves foot long dogs. Pax ate 9 inches out of 12 - no bun, just ketchup - and one might say he was in dog heaven. (get it? like hog heaven, but with a hot dog??) We topped off the night with delicious cake and ice cream, and Pax clapped and grinned each time we sang "Happy Birthday" to him.

So what does Two look like on Pax? Some Snapshots:

Pax has this wonderful, quiet way about some things. I absolutely love how his tacit determination has played out in several big milestone events. At 21 months, Pax decided he was done breastfeeding, for good. One night, he refused to nurse. Instead, he held my gaze steady, and seemed to say almost beseechingly, "I'm all done now, Mama. Is that okay with you? I'm done." Our eyes were locked on each other for a long minute, with silent understanding and acceptance passing between us. In that moment, I was reminded of the first time we locked eyes in that way - minutes old, holding Pax to nurse for the first time, he gazed deeply into my eyes as if to say "oh there you are, my mama. Here I am! I love you so much." It was a very full-circle moment: one long, steady, soul-deep gaze, bookends to the beginning and the end.

Just a few weeks later, Pax decided he'd had enough of his "baby" high chair. Instead, he would drag over the spare kid-sized booster chair, identical to the one Leo used. He would climb his way onto the seat while the food was being brought to the table, and he refused to sit in the high chair one more time. To his great credit, he made good on his end of the deal, and ate nicely without throwing his food or spreading it all over the table. I was thrilled to be rid of the hulking, bulky plastic chair, and even more thrilled at his place with us at the table.

Always a climber, Pax was not ready for nap one day and decided to climb out of his crib. Then, he did it because it was fun. Then he started doing it all the time, until I foiled his plans by turning the crib around backwards. That worked... for about a month. I knew Pax was careful when he climbed out - I'd watched him on the sly, and saw the graceful, almost poetic way in which he hoisted himself up and over the rails - but it got to be too much when he scaled the sides multiple times at night. I knew the crib days were over when I woke up to find Pax asleep next to me, having no idea when or for how long he'd been snuggled up in my bed. Out came the toddler bed, away went the crib.

Predictably, Pax lands himself in a bit of trouble, too. Hair pulling, biting, hurling small objects, and screeching are all part of his repertoire of "Two." Predictably, he often finds himself in time-out, as pictured here: the stove provides an oddly ideal location for time-outs (with Mom an arm's length away, of course.)

Finally, there was the pacifier. Oh, what struggles we had with Aidan and Leo when they had to give theirs up! Countless searches were conducted by weary parents when the pacifier went missing. And so it was with a deep feeling of dread one afternoon when I couldn't find the pacifier and needed to put Pax down for a nap. He did... fine. He didn't even seem to notice - his biggest concern at bedtime is making sure the scary cat isn't lurking under the bed. Still without the paci, I tried it again that night... and discovered how cute his little lips look as he's settling down to sleep. Pacifier? What pacifier? those lips seemed to say. I looked for the "easy button" to press on that one.

Oh, and he is a quiet little thing. He has almost no language, which is obviously a concern that we're investigating (although his receptive language is quite excellent). And perhaps because of his lack of words, the words he does say become all the more delicious to hear. My heart swells when he calls for me - Mama? Mama? because it is his best word - the one he's had the longest, the one he says most clearly - and because it means ME.

This boy has some mad skills when it comes to helping with dinner. Here, he expertly rolls the crescent rolls - I credit the many hours he's spent with play-doh for his developing culinary genius.

Pax is a budding musician. His favorite piece of music is - I kid you not - Carmina Burana. He absolutely loves the bombastic lines, loves the loud, crashing drums and the high trills of the piccolo, loves the chants and swells of the tenor and soprano. He listens to his Kindermusik CD and bops his head in time to the music; he thrills at using his new instruments to create all kinds of loud and satisfying sounds. Grandpa taught him "Itsy Bitsy Spider," and his favorite book at night is the Tomie dePaola's collection of favorite songs.

Half of the people we meet say that Pax looks like Aidan; the other half say he looks like Leo. Me, I think he looks exactly like... Pax. His gorgeous blond, silky hair; his chipped front tooth; his wide, open-mouthed grin and his crinkly, cresent-shaped eyes are only reflections of the person he is on the inside: sweet, happy, vivacious, loving, unique.

(He is also a Lollipop Monster, as evidenced here:)

Best of all - the novelty of Pax hasn't worn off yet, for any of us. We marvel at him. How cute he is, how sweet he is, how much we love him. How lucky we are that he is in our family, that he completes us.

Happy Birthday, Pax Augustus!

Seeds

2011-10-06T19:38:00.000-04:00

In the earliest days of my career as Mother, I had one objective: survival. His and mine. Nursing him back to sleep late at night, I would feel great relief, thinking, I've gotten him thorough another day. In the seven years I've been at this job, I'm willing to bet I've had fewer than 100 nights of uninterrupted sleep - and yet, oddly, their wakings, much like they were in the the newborn days, are often a source of comfort for me. Soothing a boy back to sleep after a bad dream, tucking a boy back in to bed after potty-ing, and rocking a boy back to sleep, I'm comforted to know that I have helped him and been there for him, that I know, still, in the middle of the night, that he is okay.

Wistfully I remember what it was like to worry about whether time-outs should be one minute or two, or in what order I should introduce solids, or how to handle that mom at playgroup whose kids always seemed to be sick. Of course, I worried about bigger things, too. I worried about SIDS, and always felt relief as each kid outgrew the most "dangerous" SIDS ages. I worried about their growth, their eating. I worried when they were sick. But perhaps because they were in my watchful round-the-clock care, there was a lot I didn't worry about, either because it was not possible at the time, or because it was so far in the future as to be unimaginable - getting hit by a car while riding a bike; getting kidnapped; falling in the lake and drowning; not wearing a seatbelt in a fatal car accident.

Parenting is harder now. Now, I fight not to be consumed by these worries. Now, these fears are warranted, imminent. In the constant push-pull state of parenting, I want to push them out of the nest as I simultaneously want to pull them back under my protective wing. I want them to ride bikes in the street and explore the nearby woods - and yet I fear an accident. I want them to be social and friendly - and yet I fear that they will forget to be wary of strangers. I want them to be responsible and careful - and yet they are children, deserving a carefree life. I want them to be compassionate and empathetic - and yet I do not wish on them the heavy burden of worry and sorrow that are often bedmates of compassion and empathy.

I'm trying to find the balance - guiding them with the right amount of caution, without being frightening. The right amount of repetition of lessons before the words become akin to Charlie Brown's mother's dialogue. (wah wah wah wah wah). The right timing of my teachings, not wanting to deliver them too early to be understood, not wanting to be too late to be able to make any difference.

I've heard that the things that you worry about the most in life rarely, if ever, actually happen. It's why bad dreams, even recurring ones, are so reassuring. They can't really happen in real life. So I've toyed with the idea of systematically worrying about every single thing that could possibly happen to my children, and worry about each one enough that I would effectively negate the possibility of something horrific happening.

Does this make me a control freak? Nah. It's humbling, really, because just when I start to feel like I'm getting the hang of this thing called Parenting - diapering while breastfeeding; breastfeeding while cooking dinner; cooking dinner while supervising homework; supervising homework while separating the squabbling siblings - suddenly these same children are peering out of the nest. They are working to gain their independence, to take responsibility, to see the consequences of their decisions, to deal with bullies, to grapple with dead goldfish, and to continue to develop their own unique selves, very much away from the parents who have quite literally held their hands through their earliest years....

...leaving me to grapple with my own struggles and worries, constantly wondering what kind of harvest the seeds I'm planting now will yield, wondering if I've sown enough of them, sown deep enough. Planted them when the soil is eager to receive, when they will be watered and well-fed, continually nourished. Knowing that the farmer must be ever-attentive, ever-dutiful, ever-dedicated to the harvest. Knowing that the farmer must toil for many years, in gorgeous weather and in harsh storms.

Hoping that each act performed by the farmer, each seed planted will find its roots, will thrive, will be bountiful and plenty. Hoping that it is enough.

Summer Memories (Virtual) Jar

2011-09-25T19:18:00.001-04:00

I can't deny it any longer. Summer is OVER. School's been in session for 7 weeks; my white shoes, never-to-be-worn-past-Labor-day, were stowed away 3 weeks ago, and this past Friday marked the official start of the fall season. It was hard to say goodbye to summer.

And so - in order to fill our Summer Memories Jar, I decided to go through the photos I took this summer, to remind me of moments I might have otherwise forgotten. Here, I've included just a few. They are random and out of sequence, just like our *real* memory collection jar.

Summer 2011

I *love* finding stuff like this at the end of the evening, when I am tidying up the house. Who would have thought to place a zebra in a baby crib? Genius, I tell you!

Aidan was invited on stage to play the washboard (tie) when we went to a local winery during one of their live music concerts. He played it cool onstage, but he was in HEAVEN and talks about his stage debut frequently...

Swimming, swimming, and more swimming - this year was perhaps the most fun we've had at the pool. All of the boys are becoming terrific swimmers, and everyone looked forward to a trip to the pool!

Pax, fearless Pax was jumping off the diving board regularly in order to keep up with Big Brothers!
Leo demonstrated *the funniest* faces when he dived off the board! It was mostly a combination of fear, determination, and excitement. And it was priceless.

Aidan's creativity never ceases to delight me. Here, he decided to fill his truck with lavender from our garden, and present it to me. It's still sitting on our kitchen window where I enjoy it each time I'm washing dishes or prepping meals.

My awesome brother, gifting me with his guitar-playing wisdom....

Forts, forts and more forts! The older boys became Masters of Fort Building this summer. This one came complete with a welcome sign and decorations!

We discovered a local sprinkler park, and it was an instant family favorite. The boys had such a blast each time we went!

(We've tried desperately to catch this "tantrum face" on camera. This is as close as we've come. Pax folds his arms in a huff and usually puffs out his lip at us when he is utterly put-out with the injustice heaped upon his almost-two-year-old self.)

Summertime Joy.

Endless amusement at the dinner table!

Celebrating TEN YEARS of happily married life together...
Iced coffee on hot summer days, enjoyed on the "nature chairs" on the porch!

Daredevil Pax, climbing out of his crib.....

Pax learned how to give fist bumps during Camp Laguna....

Leo was in charge of setting the table this night. It made my heart swell when I saw Pax's place setting.... (shortly before Pax refused to sit in his high chair, and insisted on a "big boy" chair like Leo's.)

Cardboard Boat Race at Camp Laguna - need I say more??!!!

Boys who always make me laugh....

Camp Laguna group picture - this was our 9th year of Camp Laguna Craziness!!
The cutest bumblebee to buzz around our garden....

Myrtle Beach....

Lazy afternoons spent reading Roald Dahl's vast collection of beloved stories....

Hiking at local trails....

A summer full of cherished memories! Hooray!!

From a younger poet

2011-09-18T19:18:00.002-04:00

Since I'm kind of on a poetry kick these days.....

This is the poem that Aidan wrote, with minimal help from me. I suggested the acrostic version (an easy way to introduce poetry composition to the youngest poets) and I offered a few starter words (need; often) but the rest is 100% his own.

Aidan wrote this for a science project on weather; poetry is a perfect pairing for any project!

Windsock

Whoooo!! Windy.
I like breezes
Needed at a windy highway
Direction of the wind

Shows speed
Often used at a busy airport
Colorful
Kind of like a kite!

Homage

2011-09-11T16:35:00.005-04:00

Recently I stumbled upon one of my many Lucille Clifton collections of poetry, and the random page to which I opened revealed one of my most favorite poems. Lucille Clifton - author, poet, distinguished Poet Laureate of Maryland, Professor at St. Mary's College of Maryland - my own beloved teacher - continues to inspire me.

In reading Homage to my Hips, she inspired my own...

Homage to The Girls

These breasts are saggy breasts,

baggy breasts,

wrinkly, deflated-balloon breasts.

They don't fill my perky polka-dot cups

anymore.

They don't demand more support,

anymore.

They're known to ask for additional

assistance

come bikini season.

These breasts were big breasts -

my cups runneth over.

These breasts were milky breasts -

engorging, bonding, nourishing, sustaining...

55 months long.

These breasts were immodest breasts -

bared at bars and backyard barbeques,

at the insistence of

the babe

Bond

Nourish

Sustain.

And so

I know them to be

beautiful.

Semi-Squished Girls

2011-08-30T13:22:00.005-04:00

I saw Aidan's teacher this past weekend, and she told me what Aidan's reaction to Tuesday's earthquake was: "It feels like our trailer is being pulled by a semi!!" [a semi-automatic truck, that is, one that's designed to haul such items as trailers, a.k.a. "learning cottages."]

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

Leo was looking at the belly cast (made when I was pregnant with him) that we have hanging on the wall of the nursery. He asked me why it was there, and I said, "Isn't it so fun to look at and remember that you were in my belly one time?"

He responded, "It wasn't fun for ME because I got squished!"

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

After preschool, I was grilling Leo for details. He seems to have particular troubles with a boy in another class; they have squabbled before on the playground. Apparently, he wears striped shirts a lot. Leo said,

"There's a striped boy who's BAD, so you know what I said to Connor? I said, 'There are GIRLS to save.'"
***************************************
Pax is as reluctant as ever to speak, yet his receptive language continues to grow exponentially. Sometimes I feel like a fool, talking to a near-mute at such great lengths, but then he demonstrates his clear understanding of everything I've said. I've had to devise clever ways of saying "I'm leaving" because he clearly understands I'm out the door, I'm heading out, I'll be back soon, I'm going now, I'm on my way... now I say I'm vacating the premises, I'm exiting the abode, I'm traveling elsewhere, choosing different and more creative expressions of the bottom line: Mommy's outta here!

He is patient and persistent in his efforts to communicate to us non-verbally, which makes his silence much more tolerable; there are no tantrums over misunderstanding the desire for coffee, not apple juice; for banana bread, not bananas; for the car keys, not the sunglasses. And I'm encouraged by his creativity. After an earthquake aftershock woke him up, I was telling Jeff what happened. Jeff asked him, "Did the shaky thing wake you up?" His eyes got big as he nodded, then made his body rigid while he shook his hands forcefully, illustrating the "shaky things." Similarly, he's grown fearful of big thunderstorms, and has devised a sign for "Boom Boom Thunder." He strikes his fist to his open palm several times, quickly, showing "Boom Boom!"

We like to joke that our kids are on a need to know basis when it comes to plans that are iffy, or when uncertainty is likely to upset the carefully-constructed balance in our lives. We think the joke's on us, though. We think Pax has decided that WE are the ones on a need-to-know basis, and he'll speak to us only when he decides we need to know whatever it is he has to say.

My Greatest Teachers

2011-08-23T20:42:00.016-04:00

One of a child's greatest gifts is his ability to teach us.

This afternoon provided some entirely unwelcome excitement - we experienced a big earthquake, 6.0 magnitude. When the earthquake started, I was in the basement. I raced to the main level to find Leo, happily sitting on the couch, wondering what that rumbling sound was. Calm and quiet as could be, he was unphased by the significant shaking and loud rumbling; Pax remained sound asleep, and Aidan was kept safe and calm at school by his wonderful teacher. Later when he got off the bus, he was excited and amazed that we had felt it, too. I asked him what he thought of the earthquake and he replied enthusiastically, "It was COOL!"

I, on the other hand, was all shook up. But as I helped the kids process the event during the afternoon and into the evening, I realized that for them, this was very exciting. They didn't know to be scared. Aidan wanted to know all about how the plates beneath the ground shift, and what the ground looked like when it was shaking. He wondered about other places in the world where earthquakes are more common, and remembered hearing about the ones in Japan. He was excited to remember that earthquakes that happen in the ocean can cause tsunamis. Leo wanted to watch the weather, to find out when the next earthquake would be happening. He was convinced that our local forecasters had all the answers to when the next time the "shaking thing would happen." And Pax, blissfully oblivious to the shaking and quaking, laughed and giggled his way through the evening, jumping from the arm of the couch onto the cushions and crouching against the pillows - his version of hide-and-seek.

Admittedly, I haven't been able to fully embrace the "curiosity" viewpoint of my children, nor the oblivion. But taking a step back from the worry and the stress and the adrenaline rush that the afternoon provided, they have a valid point.... what did the ground look like? Do the plates settle back into their former positions after the quake? Why can't forecasters predict the quakes? And what kind of wonderful poem might one write from the perspective of the "fault lines," who always take the blame?

*****

Browsing through children's books at the library earlier today, a story I've searched for many times but have been unable to find literally jumped off the shelf at me. (My recall of the title was just slightly off, and I assumed it was out of print.) As I child, I read it obsessively, loving the illustrations, the tender story, loving how very full-circle it is, loving the sweet bond between Bobby and his grandfather, Bob. Now One Foot, Now the Other is told with poignant and gentle elegance. Tomie de Paola weaves together the past and the present as the grandfather describes to Bobby how he first taught him to walk on his own, how to build large towers of blocks, how to eat with a spoon. Bobby especially loves to hear the story of how he learned to walk - now one foot, now the other. Later, after Grandfather experiences a debilitating stroke, Bobby slowly teaches his grandfather each of these skills again, ending with- now one foot, now the other.

*****
Close to a year ago, I shared the story of Pax's recognition of communion during church. Months later, Pax has created a place for himself at that table. Although our church is very clear that all are welcome, it was my own reluctance that prevented Pax from taking communion with the rest of us. But then, it happened - quite by accident, the first time. The pastor held the bread, intended for me, a little too close to Pax's graspy fingers. Too late to stop him, he snatched the bread from her fingers and clutched it in a white-knuckled fist. Pastor and I exchanged a glance, she quietly tore off another piece for me, and the meal continued. All were fed.

Since that day, Pax has continued to commune with us at the table. He has made a place for himself, insisted that he be a part of the meal. The squirming, fussy, busy almost-two-year old turns into a calm, focused, quiet child when we kneel down at the altar. Perched on my knee, he carefully holds out his tiny hands in a gesture similar to his sign for "book" as he waits for the bread. Patiently he watches for the chalice to be brought to him, where he dips his bread into the wine before he carefully eats. Each week, bearing witness to this tiny child who is so serious and so intentional in his communion, I become verklempt. In "Communion," "to share," Pax has taught me, has helped me to understand - all are welcome. He has opened my eyes to a new perspective, a new understanding of what it means to belong, to be welcome, to be accepted.

My children are my greatest teachers.

Quotes

2011-08-16T21:34:00.007-04:00

Several drafts are in the queue, so check back soon. In the meantime, I simply love this tidbit from our afternoon together......

Today Aidan informed me that he knows just what he wants his next birthday party theme to be (his MAY birthday party) - "I'd like to have a science, reading, and math birthday party. We'll do experiments, and read books that go with them, and do math stuff. It will be awesome."

That's my boy.

***********
I've fallen out of the habit of recording these quotable quotes, so I'm redoubling my effort to jot down these priceless moments. Following another writer's suggestion, I have a small journal (embellished with a large "Q" for "quotes") that I keep in my nightstand, and I try to remember to record these gems as they happen. On nights when I feel heavy-hearted, or need a good laugh, or when I am deeply reveling in the joy of my children, I pull out this small book and remember these seemingly unforgettable moments in their lives... only to realize that I have forgotten so much, and thus feel so grateful that I took the time to bear witness, to record, and in doing so, to remember.

To Have and to Hold

2011-08-04T06:48:00.004-04:00

Ten years ago, on August 4, 2001, Jeff and I began our life as a married couple. At our wedding reception, we chose to dance to Israel Kamakawiwo Ole's version of Somewhere Over the Rainbow. At the time, we chose it because it was lovely and beautiful. Now, a decade later as I listen to the song, the words have gained a whole new meaning....

...and the dreams that you dreamed of
Dreams really do come true...

Yes - dreams really do come true. We are making our dreams come true....

I hear babies cry and I watch them grow,
They'll learn much more
Than we'll know
And I think to myself
What a wonderful world...

Yes - our babies - yes - what a wonderful world.

And yet it was the rainbow that really struck me, when listening to this song anew. Significant and poignant, the image of the rainbow, a promise.

Originally, in the story of Noah's Ark, God sent a rainbow as a sign of God's promise to all God's people. The rainbow in our song choice represents the promise we each made,to love one another for all the rest of our days. My beloved is mine, and I am his.

And so the song inspired the creation of this montage, celebrating a decade of our lives together.

Make video montages at www.OneTrueMedia.com

I Don't.

2011-07-27T19:59:00.011-04:00

I think it's probably the insatiable inner student within that compels me to respond in turn to this blogger's recent post. I mean, it pretty much demands a response, right?

Things I Don't Do -

1. I don't do Marble Run. We "lost" all the pieces and I can still play the "marbles are dangerous" card for awhile longer, but the truth is that Marble Run has the potential to reduce me to tears as I struggle to make runs that actually work. "I went to an honors college, I went to an honors college," I chant to myself as I try to force impossible combinations of plastic together as the kids try to avoid telling me, again and again, how good Daddy is at Marble Run.

2. I don't sort the toy bins. Pretty much ever. Contents of one tote, pulled randomly from under the table: Handle (only) to toy vacuum; drill, missing the bit; giggling cow that moos and shakes; two out of three pieces of a Happy Meal game; an infant inchworm musical toy, long outgrown; 10 Matchbox cars; 2 tiny dolls; 5 pieces of a puzzle; 1 bottle of "pop" from the kitchen set, originally given to me as a child. I rationalize this disorganization by reasoning that this kind of jumble promotes creativity and out-of-the-box thinking, because who know what kind of wonders could be created with an oversized inchworm and undersized dolls?

3. I don't serve tater tots. I'm not about to get all high and mighty and Jamie Oliver-y (even though I adore the man - and his mission) but I find them gross and weird. (Upon reflection, my perspective on tater tots is particularly strange to me, because I have no problem serving chicken nuggets - in the shape of dinosaurs, no less - but I draw the line at a reconstituted potato??)

4. I don't make my kids stop drinking coffee. Secretly - or not so secretly - I revel in the fact that Leo and now Pax are both Java Junkies. After all, it originated with the effort to get them to drink more milk, and has evolved into a morning - and afternoon - ritual that I absolutely love.

5. I don't do couponing - you know, the kind with binders and organizers and Double Dollar Days. I find grocery shopping torturous enough as it is, and I cannot fathom adding to the agony by visiting multiple stores, kids in tow, to save a buck. I feel mildly guilty at the register, knowing I could have had 15 boxes of saltines for the price of 5 if only I were a savvier shopper, but that guilt lasts only as long as it takes me to devour the bon-bons and brownies I bought at full price.

Things I Don't Do But Would Like to Do:

6. Golfing. I don't play golf, but I'd like to learn. Did I really just say that? I like to joke that I am a "golf orphan" since my parents have become such avid golfers. But I fear that I'll eventually become a "golf widow/golf childless person" since the male members of this family are so enthusiastic to hit the fairways. Hypothetically, it's a very appealing game - it's outside; it's a lot of walking; it's an individual sport, and most importantly of all, the outfits are adorable!

7. Allowance. I don't give the kids an allowance. For starters, who has cash these days? Before our monthly poker games, I always have to raid the kids' piggy banks for cash. One night, the tooth fairy called her neighbor/father in a panic, realizing there was NO CASH in the house and needing some money in exchange for one pretty molar. After pooling all their dollars and coins into one heaping stack, Aidan and Leo then stuffed it all into a tri-fold fabric wallet that they promptly... lost. If this isn't a reason to start instilling the value of a dollar in my children, I don't know what is.

8. Cooking with Kids. I don't do this enough. We make banana bread, or brownies, or cupcakes here and there, but it's all I can do to get a hot meal on the table, alone and in a timely manner; adding a child's help is too much. But as the kids grow older, I hope to include them much more in the daily dinner prep. Ideally, I'll cook merely 3 or 4 nights a week, and each boy in the house - including Jeff - will be in charge of dinner on the other nights. (Hmm... I better amend this to I don't cook and clean enough with the kids, because if I am going to unleash them in the kitchen, they'd better know how to clean it, too.)

9. Shopping on QVC. I've never done this, and I was too embarrassed by it to put it on my Rockin' List, but the truth is - I desperately want to make a QVC purchase. The rules I've set for myself is that it must be exceptional, something I truly love that is very unique. More importantly, I must call the show. I cannot order online, because that would be cheating. Must. Call. QVC. Bonus points if it's in the middle of the night when I should be sleeping!

10. Having organized cupboards. Unlike the toy totes, the disorganization of the cupboards can be fairly stressful to me. It is very stressful to Jeff (which perhaps explains why he'll need a few cooking lessons, too). Again, I rationalize the cupboards in our home (juxtaposed against an otherwise very tidy and organized abode) as an expression of creativity; who knows what kind of inspiration one might encounter when, reaching for a can of peaches, one unearths a bottle of mod-podge instead? But if one of the things that causes me to fuss at my children is their inability to find something because they've "put it away" in a "safe place," then I'd better be mighty sure that I can place my hands on that jar of roasted peppers or bag of risotto rice in the blink of an eye - without extracting a bunch of holiday gift bags, earbuds for the ipods, or paint brushes - in the process.

And that, dear reader, is what this Mom doesn't do.

Theme Songs

2011-07-20T18:28:00.005-04:00

We've been busy. The good kind of busy. The kind of busy that keeps me away from the computer, my blog, as we soak up the days of summer like so many rays of sun...

When school let out on May 24, I'm sorry to admit my theme song would have been "I Will Survive." (Moms who have children who have not yet gone to school might be shocked and dismayed by this admission - I know this, because I used to be That Mom. But moms who have school-aged-kids will totally understand - week after seemingly endless week with ALL THE KIDS under one roof, with NO SCHEDULE, NO ROUTINE, and a frightening lack of "Me" time? Aaugh!!) Mercifully, my inner Aretha Franklin belted out her tune for only about a week or so....

It has been, it is a wonderful summer. Despite his Mt. Everest-climbing abilities and death-defying leaps into bodies of water, Pax is a much easier age this year than he was the past two summers. After the initial shock of having a house full of children - all day, every day - finally wore off, we settled into a summertime routine that I have come to relish. Our days are not extraordinary - pool; playground; crafts; reading; watching television, lingering over coffee, playing rounds of Uno before bed - but it's been the ordinary-ness of our days (sprinkled with some extraordinary adventures here and there) that have made this summer particularly memorable to me. Although I'll mourn the day that the summer ends (in just two and a half short weeks! waah! ), I'm excited to see what shows up in our Summer Memories Jar, to be relived and remembered during the cold winter months.

"Say what you need to say" by John Mayer seems like a fitting theme song for Pax these days. As I've detailed before, Pax is a gifted communicator - a completely nonverbal communicator, that is. We can't wait to hear what this boy has to say, if he ever decides to share his reflections of the universe with the rest of us. Hell, I'd even take "No!" or "Mine!" at this point. Say what you need to say, my boy! His receptive language is wonderful; case in point - Leo loves chewing gum, and asks for it often. Pax feels mighty put out when he's not allowed to have any, and at those times when I cannot discreetly pass Leo some gum without Pax demanding his own, I've given in and provided a teeny wad of gum for Pax to chew. The other day, I explained very clearly, "Pax, you cannot swallow the gum. You must chew it only. Understand?" Half an hour later, I wondered what kind of mulch or stone Pax had put in his mouth at the playground, only to find, to my astonishment, that he was still chewing his gum. I laughed at this tiny mute, this baby boy who refuses to speak yet who understands to chew his gum without swallowing it.

"All By Myself" - Leo's theme song, of course. As in, "I can do it all by myself, and I WILL, gosh darn it!" I love hearing Leo talk himself through his upsets. He's a veritable walking self-help book, with his ability to coach himself through his tantrums and torments. "No one will let me have any fun! I want to ride my bike outside but Mommy said No! I can't do what I want to do and I am here in my room by myself! I want to go outside! (silence) I am upset! (longer silence!) Mommy said I can't go outside! (longest silence still.)" Later, when I check on him, he is quietly looking at books, ready to move on to another indoor activity. I absolutely love this about Leo - his self-talk, his inner voice who coaches him through the hard parts of his life. And, like most other things in his life, from getting dressed to buckling his seatbelt to fixing his own coffee, he does it... all by himself.

And Aidan's theme song might very well be "The Song that Never Ends." His energy is boundless, his curiosity is infinitely greater than my attempts to answer his questions, and his enthusiasm for life is catching, just like the earworm I've just planted in your mind by mentioning this childhood hallmark tune. I feel grateful all over again for how healthy Aidan is this year, as last summer's autoimmune virus cast a dark shadow over our days. This summer, I've watched Aidan grow so much. He is most helpful in unloading the dishwasher, sweeping the floor, watering the trees, and even, on one occasion (and with the help of Leo) going so far as to change Pax's diaper and get him dressed. I love this big kid!

My theme song? That one is easy. It applies not only to this summer, but also to these tender and early years of raising our young family. "These are the days you'll remember....."

These are the days
These are days you’ll remember
Never before and never since, I promise
Will the whole world be warm as this
And as you feel it,
You’ll know it’s true
That you are blessed and lucky
It’s true that you
Are touched by something
That will grow and bloom in you

"Grand" Adventures

2011-07-08T14:18:00.006-04:00

(Caveat Lector (let the reader beware): my creative writing energy has been focused on a more pressing issue these days - convincing our public schools to save arts and music - so I'm fully aware that this blog post is somewhat.... "ho-hum," as one beloved (yet ballsy!) reader described a different, recent post. While the content is rich, the delivery is poor. Mea Culpa.)

Summer Wednesdays have become Hangin' with Grandma and Grandpa Days (while I put in a few hours doing the grunt work for a massive and important research project that my professor leads). They have become one of the most highly anticipated days of the week, because the days always promise fun and adventure (isn't that the definition of "Grandma and Grandpa"?)

Once, they rode their bikes over to G & G's house - and then exhaustively explored the special trails my dad has created, winding all through their sprawling acreage. Another day, they played at the sandy, inviting lakefront (dubbed "Beach 6"). They took turns going down the steep water slide, straight into the lake.... but Leo was so hesitant and fearful of the too-fast slide that my dad spent the next day building a whole new extension to the dock in order to accommodate a less steep slide. Then there was the day that they all went to see Mr. Popper's Penguins. Grandma's enormous popcorn bucket fed the whole crew, which delighted Pax almost as much as the movie itself - he cackled and giggled with the rest of the audience and didn't fall asleep once, as he gnawed his way through a gallon of popcorn.

But this past Wednesday was a clear favorite. The older boys spent the morning creating Robots using sheets of cardboard, empty boxes, styrofoam, and other odd assorted goods (including a paper fan, some brass brads, and empty spools of ribbon). Meanwhile, Pax carted the boxes all over the house, looking important and determined to be a part of the action. Finally after hours of deliberating and creating, the masterpieces were done - and ready for their naming ceremony.

Leo announced, "My robot is named John Paul Leo. But you can just call him John."

(What a coincidence, I thought; my dad's name is John Paul.)

Aidan asserted, "MY robot's first name is Super. His middle name is Helpful. His last name is 1st-in-everything. So you can just call him SH1." Later he explained that some robots have letters AND numbers in their names, like R2D2 and C3PO. Similarly, he pointed out that his robot and Leo's robot were just like the famed Star Wars bots - one was short and fat, the other, tall and skinny.

I don't know if it is the robots, the water play, or the popcorn that the boys enjoy so much as it's the time spent with Grandma and Grandpa; the best part of my Wednesdays is getting to hear about the "Grand" Adventure. And so I eagerly await the report of this week's adventure.... Road Trip to the Science Museum!

Synonyms

2011-07-03T13:59:00.005-04:00

One afternoon during reading time, Aidan decided to take a break from Roald Dahl (who he's reading exhaustively this summer) and peruse the Thesaurus for awhile, instead. As I was prepping dinner for that night's guests, he came up behind me with the open book and said, "Look, Mom! 'Annoy.' The first word listed is 'brother'!"

I turned around and glanced at the page, then searched his face for the giveaway twinkle in his eye.....

"What's that first word?" I asked, in case I hadn't heard him correctly.

"Brother." Still no twinkle, no giggle.

"Aidan, that word is BOTHER." He groaned, turned and walked away - embarrassed by his mistake.

From my perspective of the younger sister to an older brother, and the mama to a brood of brothers, I actually think he read it perfectly the first time.

Walking Amidst It

2011-06-28T20:34:00.006-04:00

Maya Lin, the woman who designed the Vietnam Veterans Memorial, thought that "public spaces should be filled with art...so that we can walk amidst it..." (as found in Of Thee I Sing: A Letter to my Daughters by Barack Obama). Lin was right - public spaces - and private ones, too, should be filled with art.

My walls are bare and my wallet is empty, but I have two very creative and crafty children who were desperate for a really good, authentic, engaging art project. Taking our inspiration from Picasso's drawing of the hand holding the bouquet (which Aidan had studied in school) along with a favorite book called The Imaginary Garden, this was the end result. In sum, the project took 1.5 hours and cost less than $10:

You will need the following:

Large canvas (ours is about 11 x 14)

Acrylic paint (optional - for the background on the canvas)

Paintbrush/ paint sponge

A variety of colors of tissue paper

Elmer's glue that has been watered down a bit

Mod-Podge

First, a caveat: I have this thing about kid art. Usually, I'm all about the "process" and not as focused on the final "product;" in schools and classrooms, I look for evidence of individual expression and encouragement to think outside the box. Sometimes, though, seeing yet another solid brown finger painting makes me wonder if there might be a compromise between process and product. This project is one such example, where I actively guided them through a technique and a process, which helped keep it authentic yet also yielded a lovely product.

I was also deliberate in making this a collaborative project. Another time, I will give each of the kids their own canvas and let them do their own thing, but this was essentially a "brotherhood-building" activity in addition to being an art project.

And so -

Paint the canvas and allow to dry. Decide on your design for the canvas. We had three initial ideas for the project, but opted to use a vase (which Leo first drew on a piece of paper, then I traced and cut out from the tissue paper; in retrospect, I should have had Aidan do the cutting). Hands would also work, or you could "root" the flowers in some shaggy grass at the bottom. Another idea is to create a large tree, a heart, or a huge sun. Be creative!

For the vase:

Design the vase and cut 2 layers out of tissue paper. Cut a variety of lengths and colors of green stems, then glue the vase and stems down to the canvas. Using two layers for the vase allows you to add some texture and dimension to the vase, because inevitably one or both of the layers will wrinkle as you glue it down - wrinkles are good!

Experiment a bit with how to create the flowers. Initially, I showed Aidan and Leo how to cut out petals from the tissue. This was fairly hard for Aidan, and way too challenging for Leo, so instead, I suggested tearing the tissue into small-ish pieces - an excellent choice. On a scrap piece of paper, I demonstrated how to spread a thin layer of glue, then begin layering the tissue scraps in a circle, creating the flower. I showed them how to fold or layer small bits of paper for the center of the flower, and then I sat back and let them work, offering guidance here and there - Aidan tended to use too much glue, and Leo, too little. Other than pointing out some empty "holes" that needed to be filled, the work was done completely by the young artists, which is an important piece in the process and the product.

Make sure to have your artists sign the canvas with their initials (or names) and the date or year.

Once the design is complete, allow the glue to dry, then apply a thin layer of Mod-Podge to the canvas, completely covering the tissue design. Allow that to dry, then add a second coat of Mod-Podge to the entire canvas, which will effectively seal and finish the work of art.

Finally - hang your masterpiece prominently. It will bring you much joy - remembering how fun it was to create - as well as reminding you that the children who are driving you to the point of insanity are the same ones who created such a beautiful work of art.

Shades of Gray

2011-06-23T16:44:00.010-04:00

Call it serendipitous, call it coincidence, call it the subconscious awareness of what's been in front of you forever, coming forth into consciousness. Two blog entries have been drafting themselves in my head for several days. Two timely news article links were posted to Facebook recently, catching my attention because I was essentially handed the literature to back the rant that was forming in my head. One of the issues, I'll tackle now. The other, I'll wait until it's become less of a rant and more of a tribute.....

It happened in the baby aisle of Wal-Mart, the moment when my brain started drafting furiously. The words started spewing forth with such gusto that they actually started leaving my mouth in a dribble of mutters and curses. My children stared at me in wonderment, looking at me as if to say, what's her deal?

To be fair, it actually started in the canned goods aisle. I needed tomatoes. Wanting to grab the can as quickly as possible, I hit a wall - literally - of choices. Diced, petite diced, crushed, whole, halved, with basil and oregano, with jalapenos and onions, without extra salt, organic, non-organic, made by DelMonte or Sam Walton himself. I needed canned tomatoes, and the overwhelming sense of wastefulness annoyed me. Should buying a can of tomatoes really require a flow chart of choices?

I also needed diapers. Usually, the choice for me was Pampers: Cruisers or Extra-Dry? Suddenly, the choice was different - and the sight of them assaulted me, stopped me in my tracks and left me cursing. There were pink argyle ones. Or blue stripes. They were clearly marked - for "GIRLS" and "BOYS." Have we really come to this? The irony did not escape me, either - here is a product designed to sufficiently and completely cover those very boy and girl parts - and yet the exterior, also intended to be hidden beneath clothes, highlighted the very essence of what's underneath the diaper.

I'm so proud to be living in a nation where, by and large, tolerance and acceptance have become the norm, not the exception. Women are mostly treated as equals to men; blacks are mostly treated as equals to whites; gay and lesbian couples are gradually coming to enjoy many of the same rights as married straight couples. Gone is the "black and white world" in which we used to live - literally, when blacks and whites were segregated, and figuratively, when women were denied access to voting, career choice, and fair pay, and where civil unions and marriages between gay couples didn't even exist. The lines have been blurred; the black-and-white world is now a variegated rainbow reflecting many shades of gray -

Except in the case of gender. Instead, we are going backwards in time, back to an era where boys wear blue and girls wear pink, where individuals are defined not by who they are but who they appear to be. Where boys play with trucks and tanks (that are blue and brown) and girls play with kitchen sets and cradles (pink and yellow, of course). As evidenced by the genderized diapers in Wal-Mart, we're reverting back to a black and white world, where mindsets are closed and perspectives are narrowed.

The diapers are an affront to any parent who has worked to de-emphasize gender and stereotyping. They are not cute, they are not clever, and they are absolutely offensive to me. I particularly appreciate the perspective of Lise Eliot, from the article link above:

"If parents did not buy into the gender stereotyping of children's toys and clothes, kids would stay open-minded longer during childhood. The goal is to keep girls physically active, curious and assertive, and boys sensitive, verbal and studious."

I, for one, will continue to seek the shades of gray.

A Man Like My Father

2011-06-22T19:54:00.004-04:00

This story has been told many times, but never here --

Late one night as a college freshman, I was talking to an older boy about what my perfect mate in life would be like. I named a variety of character traits (funny; good at fixing things; cute ), values I would want him to have (compassion; deep respect for women and people in general), beliefs I hoped he would hold (God). I concluded, "I guess you could say I'm looking for someone a lot like my own father. Someone who would rush to the store to buy more batteries when the smoke detector starts beeping late at night. Someone who would fix me pickles and ice cream in a bowl when I'm pregnant and craving it at 3 in the morning." My friend laughed his cruel laugh and shot back at me, "You'll never find someone like that."

Indeed, I have. Jeff is that man - the man who tends to the safety of his family, who lovingly fetches peculiar cravings, who is sensitive and kind, dedicated and devoted to those he loves best in this world. And that makes me one pretty lucky woman to have not one but two extraordinary men in this world who treat me with such absolute, unconditional, unwavering, love - my own father; and my children's father.

Happy Father's Day to two of the very best fathers in the world.

We are there...

2011-06-15T21:32:00.010-04:00

You know it's been an awesome vacation when checking off "blogging" on your to-do list feels more like a chore than the outlet it usually provides. On Saturday, we returned home after a week at the beach, and although home is always a wonderful place to be, it's been hard to get back into the demands of everyday life....

The week was wonderful. Although we've vacationed most years before with the kids, it has always been to visit people, or with other families. This was our first extended vacation, just the five of us - and it was unforgettable.

Aidan was amazing. Although he had a healthy respect for the ocean and its powers, he was relentless in his pursuit of riding the perfect wave. With a wallet full of birthday money, Aidan bought his own boogie board, and spent hours - hours each day surfing the waves. We would drag him out every so often and make him rest - but he'd clamour back into the sea after

impatiently wolfing down a granola bar and some gatorade. He and I walked hand-in-hand in the mornings, searching for sand dollars and pausing to watch the clams burrow deep into the

sand. At the water park, he raced me down the slide, beating me to the bottom and grinning with triumphant joy. I taught him to play War, and he taught Jeff to play Pokemon. He read many books on the trip, including two of my all-time Roald Dahl favorites: Fantastic Mr. Fox and Danny the Champion of the World. In these ways, in our long and lazy days, we enjoyed so many of the hallmarks of my own summer vacation memories....

Leo reveled. With the largest sandbox imaginable literally at his fingertips, he became lost in a world of imagination and creation. He insisted he could hear the ocean in every seashell he picked up. Leo built one drippy castle after another, and all I could think about was my own memories of building sandcastles with my father - Leo, like me, was mesmerized by the fast start - slow drip - final plop of the sand as each peak was formed. Leo, like me, looked for

seashells to decorate the perimeter and capstone of each castle. Eventually, though, as it

happens to every man who's labored long and hard over a creation (while his mother badgers

him to drink more water because it's hot!) Leo had to pee. A particular unforgettable moment of our trip came when Leo told me he had to pee and I pointed to the ocean and said, "Well, go pee!" He gave me a funny look, shrugged his shoulders and trudged off accordingly. Glancing up a moment later to check on him, there he was, in all his glory - he'd pulled his trunks to his ankles and was peeing far and wide into the ocean, for all the world to see. I shouted "LEO!" and the sound of my voice alarmed our sunbathing neighbors. They put their books down as their

eyes swung out in the direction of mine - and a great chorus of laughter ensued.

Pax was a wonder. He wondered about everything. He took it all in, drank in the sea and the sand and the sun. He loved the ocean, cackled at the sight of Aidan boogie boarding and made a game of chasing Leo to the water's edge and back. He splashed and kicked in the gently lapping morning waves and in the shallow pools left over from the high tide at noon. He dug holes, sat in those holes, pretended to fall into the holes, then filled them up again. He was fascinated by the

seagulls and pelicans we saw, and in that over-generalizing way of almost-two year olds, he

applied his sign for "dog" to every animal he encountered. I tried to teach him to sign "bird," but all he did was laugh at my wings. Pax loved when Aidan would take him on little rides on the boogie board, pulling him along like it was a sled. He and Leo drizzled sand on each other, then splashed it off again. Jeff took him on long walks, perched atop his shoulders, and Pax's eyes

were huge, happy saucers gazing on the world from a new perspective. And he enjoyed luxurious naps. He napped in my arms, against my chest, in the warm sunshine with the ocean roaring in his ears. He napped against my back, secure in the Ergo, with the cool morning slowly turning warm as the day began on the ocean.

For me, it was the simplest of pleasures that made me enjoy our time at the beach the most. I took a nap in the afternoon. I read books. I spent evenings with Jeff, playing gin rummy and

sipping gin and tonics (our official drink of the week). I ran miles next to the surf, listening to the roar of the waves and watching the clouds spread across the sky. I watched the sun rise over the ocean in the morning, sipping my coffee with at least one child snug in my lap. I created memories for my children from the memories my parents created for me. I drank deeply and I knew that it was good.

Was it perfect? Hell no. The kids still fought and bickered. I still got frustrated with them. We locked ourselves out of the condo at one point. The lens on our nice camera got broken. Putt-putt golf was a TOTAL disaster. There was a particular potty accident from a certain four year old that was... memorable in its timing and quantity (where was the ocean when I needed it?) And

the long car ride there and back... oh, I shudder at the thought. They were AWFUL. I said to Jeff at one point, "We seriously need to videotape this right now. Because when people [who live far away] ask us why we don't ever come to see them, we can play this video for them and they will KNOW. They will totally get it!!"

But, as it is with the best times in life, the memory of the bickering and the broken and the "are we there yet?"s fades like tan lines in August, and the joy and the love we shared together, as a family, is all that remains.

Healthy, Wealthy, and Wise

2011-05-31T20:34:00.007-04:00

Aidan Paul Carter certainly heeded Ben Franklin's call - he is early to bed and early to rise. It has made him Healthy, Wealthy, and Wise:

He is HEALTHY! After fighting a fairly rare autoimmune virus, Henoch-Schonlein Purpura, for over a year (typical and expected duration = 6 weeks!) Aidan received a clean bill of health - NO HSP VIRUS - at his well child check up this past week. What wonderful news! I can finally put aside the nagging worry in my mind, the back burner that constantly simmered, "Worry about HSP virus." No longer! I am grateful today more than ever for our three very healthy children.

He is WEALTHY! Um.... okay, not really. But he has a wealth of new knowledge, now that his first grade school year is officially over. I'm so proud of my school boy. He is studious, inquisitive, curious, creative. He could not possibly make his teacher-mama more proud, and I'm grateful to Mrs. Jackson for helping Aidan enjoy such a successful year under her guidance and quiet tutelage. I look at him in quiet amazement sometimes, as he works out a math fraction or presents a different viewpoint I'd never even fathomed. I am grateful to her, too, for providing me the opportunity to work in her classroom every week, rotating among the reading groups and playing "reading specialist" for an hour each week, treating me like a colleague and a professional all the while. Above all, being in that first grade classroom week after week humbled me and challenged me in ways I hadn't experienced in a middle school classroom. Thank you, Mrs. Jackson!

And he is WISE. Seven years wise! Aidan's birthday was a day full of partying. We embarked upon my parents' boat for a breakfast cruise, complete with candle-topped donuts. Aidan used his brand new fishing pole to catch his second-ever fish, which we later used to create awesome fish print t-shirts. (Official name for fish print art = Gyotaku). Later that afternoon, Aidan celebrated with his two closest buddies and his two best brothers. We took the kids to a local fused glass art studio where they each created suncatcher masterpieces. Afterward, we dined on pizza and cake, and finally topped the night off with a sleepover - the first one Aidan had ever hosted.

Flipping through photos of Aidan's birth, it's hard to imagine that the tiny baby in the pictures is the same beaming boy who stands before me today. At the same time, I cannot imagine a time that I don't think of him and remember what it was like to hold him, this boy who first made me a mama, this baby whom I love beyond measure. Robert Munsch's singsong refrain could not be more true: "I'll love you forever, I'll like you for always, as long as I'm living, my baby you'll be."

Ebb and Flow

2011-05-25T13:38:00.001-04:00

I think of myself as a person who enjoys the moment. Who notices the puffy clouds against the brilliant blue, variegated sky, who appreciates the woodpecker hard at work making his nest, who takes pleasure in the witty exchange overheard between teens passing through the park. I savor the goodness, I appreciate the abundant beauty that surrounds me. I seek its light as an antidote to the darkness that threatens the horizon.

But then there are days or weeks that come along when the pendulum seems too heavy on one side, where the shift from "bad things" to "good things" takes too long, and good things struggle to regain their weight. The scales are unbalanced; the "bad" requires twice as much "good" to counter its heft. This is nothing new, of course, and a recent entry shows that these musings are forever on my mind. I guess, though, that this time around, I feel a sense of urgency. This time, it feels like I need to appreciate and enjoy the goodness now, because my time is coming. In a sense, it feels like permission. Permission to enjoy the beautiful and warm day, almost as if the world is saying to me, although there are so many who are hurting right now, you'd better enjoy this time, your time, right now. Permission to enjoy goodness even though two of my closest friends are struggling in darkness. Because on a different gorgeous day, it will be my pain and their time to revel in the beauty - and I expect them to find the beauty when I cannot. This time, I'm fighting to enjoy the goodness because it is all I can find to do to occupy my hands and my heart and my hours.

Because right now, it is a mother, a husband, and a child who are suffering through some very dark days. Who struggle to see the beauty when their world is full of uncertainty and worry. My dear friend's mother's cancer has returned. My closest friend's husband - also our close friend - is in the midst of a sudden and serious illness. And the child in our community is still waging her battle against cancer - she is a warrior. And so the circle tightens and I cannot avoid any longer what it feels like to walk in each of their shoes. Mother - Husband - Child. In my own life, as I walk in their shoes, each one is so vital to my own existence. I struggle with the threats placed on each of them.

My friend, the one whose mother is so ill, always amazes me in her eloquence and articulate speech even amidst her pain. In a recent email, she included this quote, the source of which I believe comes from a praise song:

"There is a blessedness that comes through waiting on the Lord. There is an intimacy in our walk with the Lord that comes from walking through that valley. There is a reliance on His Word that we only know when everything else in life fades away."

Perhaps, then, this is my answer. I am not walking through their valley right now, but I can certainly see their valley. The valley offers its own beauties to behold. It is still our job to seek them, to see them, to continue to find them and discover them and share them. Light as the antidote to darkness.

Teeter Totter

2011-05-25T13:00:00.000-04:00

(This is an old poem, July 2005. But still relevant today.)

It is a delicate balance, I think,
between all that is
good and
evil.
In his one-year-old eyes I see
potential
possibility
opportunity.
In his eyes I see
wonder
innocence
hope
lost, mostly, in adult eyes forever.
On NPR I hear
another bomb
another attack
another war, or simply
another dreary day of rain.
The teeter totter shifts
suddenly, to the fulcrum,
the weight of the world is impossible,
filled with hopelessness, despair, a sense of evil.
And then,
he smiles at me
a broad, radiant, beaming grin,
eyes twinkling and merry
his delight with his
world, with being
Alive -
all of his one year.
We teeter
back again.

An "InTents" Month!

2011-05-20T09:00:00.001-04:00

May is proving to be an intense month... as well as an In Tents month, filled with some joyous celebrations and some unforgettable adventures. Here are a few:

Mother's Day - Hm. It was certainly a memorable day.... So as a teacher, a great rule of thumb to follow when giving feedback is a "sandwich" where you offer something positive, then give some critical suggestion, then finish with something positive. In the interest of full disclosure, I have to admit that this Mother's Day was a rather inverted sandwich. It began with much wailing, gnashing of teeth, and lamenting. There were lovely gifts, to be sure (my favorite by far was the homemade book of photos, drawings and lists of "reasons why I love mom" compiled by authors and illustrators Aidan, Leo, and Pax.) But there were some wicked displays of behavior, as well. All I could do is laugh, really, because does Mom actually ever get the day off?

The middle of the day, though, was splendid and lovely and perfect. We picnicked at a local vineyard with my parents and the kids, and a truly wonderful time was had by all. I love being able to celebrate Mother's Day with my mom and as a mom. The food that everyone prepared was delicious, and we enjoyed two different Virginia wines, a rose and a chardonnay-viognier blend. We tossed the frisbee, kicked the soccer ball, visited the polo horses in the barn, and spent the afternoon lazed across blankets. A boat ride topped off the late afternoon. And then - the evening. All I can say is that the day ended as it had begun, but I'll always enjoy the memory of our picnic.

Church Camping Trip - The forecast was ominous - showers and thunderstorms likely Friday, Saturday, and Sunday - and yet the organizer of the trip was clear: we'd camp, rain or shine. I'd spent the week going back and forth - should we stay or should we go? But the positive peer pressure from the group was enough motivation to overlook the gloomy forecast. And so on Friday afternoon, after packing the car to the brim, (we had to load the kids in their seats before stuffing the rest of our gear in the aisles) we hit the road, meeting up at the campground with 6 other families from our church.

I have wonderful and vivid memories from my childhood of "Family Camp" and weeks of the summer spent at a Lutheran camp, worshipping and singing around the campfire, joined together in a unique kind of fellowship. I remember the love and acceptance offered, the laughter, and the deep-down warmth gained from those experiences. In the way that food eaten outdoors becomes more delicious, music shared around a fire becomes more beautiful. Laughter is richer. Friendships deepen and expand more quickly. In our circle of 25 campers, we sang the praise songs of my childhood. My children sat in the laps of other parents, giggled as the teenagers used them as puppets for the hand motions of the songs, and snuggled up next to their friends against the crisp chill of the evening. The discovery of watching your children enjoy something you loved so dearly yourself as a child never gets old, and my heart swelled while tears ran over my cheeks as I drank in the love and nourishment of our faith family.

We returned from the trip, tired yet renewed all at once. The spiritual buoy that the weekend provided has kept me floating high this whole week. Ever the one for a tidy house, I've been reluctant to put away the last few items of our trip - they've served as reminders the whole week through of the Feast of Love - nourishing and sustaining us still. In our culminating worship service in a small amphitheater in the woods, I was overcome again by gratitude and thanksgiving for our church family, for our village. Like other experiences in my life, so much goodness can come from so much pain. Finding this church, our home - so much goodness borne from so much pain.

And finally....Preschool Celebration! Leo is officially done with his first year of preschool, and boy, did he soar! I'm so proud of Leo, so happy that he makes friends with anyone he meets, so proud of what a good and kind friend he is. I'm proud of all the progress he's made this year, learning letters and sounds, counting, sorting, building, creating. I love hearing him talk about being a "School Boy" and insisting that I create homework for him to do in the afternoons when Aidan is doing his. I admire Leo, the ease with which he navigates through the never-ending pattern of being Younger and Older, too young for a sleepover, like Aidan; too old for a nap, like Pax, yet desperately wanting both. I'm so proud of Leo, so capable and confident, so cheerful and independent, so spritely and spirited.
Leo with his teachers - Miss Rachel; Miss Heather; Miss Sarah

More celebrating is on the horizon - most notably, the end of the school year, and the Birthday of Aidan - so stay tuned!

Feeding the Fruit Bug

2011-05-12T12:55:00.000-04:00

(Out of the Mouths of Babes)

Aidan, at dinner, swirling his pasta in spaghetti sauce:
Daddy: Can you even taste the sauce, Aidan?
Aidan (still swirling): No. I just like how it looks.

Leo, in the car with a grouchy Aidan:
"I just want this to be a nice day. But this is not my Aidan. This is a mean Aidan."

First words out of Leo's mouth, 3 seconds after opening his eyes:
"Mom, my hands are hungry!"

Leo, out of the blue:
When pirates are acting nice and politely when they want to say hello, they say 'Ahoy Matey!'"

Pax, at bedtime, looks at me and signs:
"Love you."

Leo, while drinking iced coffee:
"I like iced coffee. But if you put too much sugar in it, it doesn't taste good. It tastes all floppy and mixy."

Leo, at dinner, intentionally drops a pear on the floor. Jeff grabs it--
"No!! I am feeding the fruit bug!"

...and finally, a really oldie but goodie that I've yet to post here:

(after getting in trouble and losing screen time privileges...)
Leo, coaching/talking to himself:

"Whatever I do, I must choose something to do other than screen time. And I am NOT ANGRY about losing my screen time!!"

A Growing Legacy

2011-04-30T16:38:00.000-04:00

A tradition began generations ago. On Easter Sunday, my paternal grandfather, whom I called Papa, bought corsages for the two most important, most wonderful ladies in his life: his wife, and his young daughter Susan. For years and years, each wore a gorgeous corsage pinned to her dress come Easter Sunday morning....

Papa passed away when I was 5 or 6.

When I was 8 years old, the tradition was born anew. My father bought corsages for the two most important, most wonderful ladies in his life: his wife, and his young daughter Anne. "You make that flower look beautiful," he said as he pinned it on my dress.

"Easter" and "corsage" became synonymous in my mind. For nearly a quarter of a century, I have worn a corsage proudly pinned to my dress on Easter morning. One year, when I was in high school, my boyfriend also bought me a corsage to wear. What a dilemma - how would I ever wear two corsages from two very important men in my life? In a moment of inspiration (read: my mother's brilliant suggestion) I wore the one from my boyfriend tucked into the tails of my french braids; the flowers from my father, I wore in their usual location - closest to my heart.

Another year, when Jeff and I were newlyweds spending our first Easter as a married couple, we flew to California to be with Jeff's extended family. Although I was very excited to be with them, it was the first Easter I wouldn't spend with my own parents. I was sad and disappointed to realize that there would be no corsage that Easter - my father was some 3,000 miles away! Imagine, then, my complete surprise when there was a knock at the door where we were staying - with a delivery for me. The florist presented to me a beautiful lily corsage, compliments of my father.

This year, thinking about the upcoming holiday and the joy of the flowers on Easter, I suddenly realized - I was just about Aidan's age when my dad presented me with my first corsage...

I remember how proud, how special, how beautiful I felt as that 8 year old child, entrusted with a gorgeous bloom to wear at my breast. I knew in an instant that the tradition would continue...

...as a boutineer. This year, I made boutineers for Aidan and for Leo. I chose roses, baby's breath, and fresh greens. Such joy I felt in selecting the flowers, reveling in the surprise, anticipating giving the flowers to my sons, making them feel - hopefully - as proud, as special, and as handsome as I had been made to feel.

From Papa to Daughter; from Sweet Dad to Daughter; from Mother to Son.
The legacy grows.

Spring Break 2011

2011-04-21T20:02:00.008-04:00

Sometimes, a picture is worth a thousand words. (What I think this really translates to is "I'll spare you the thousand words and post some pictures that explain things quite clearly.")

In lieu of a thousand words - spring break was very memorable, with some great trips and outings and adventures. I've photo-journaled most of the highlights below, but the ones that didn't make the cut include movie night (Karate Kid, the Jackie Chan version); seeing the cherry blossoms (they were beautiful, but past their peak; there was a lot of crabbiness during this time, hence, no photos); swimming in the hotel pool (Jeff scared Pax to death with his cannonball); reading by headlamp in the hotel room (Jeff, to the kids; The Neverending Story); and tons of tree climbing and stick finding all over Virginia and D.C.! The rest is chronicled below:

Beach Day with friends - the temperature was a gorgeous 75 degrees and the sun was bright!

Rock Climbing - All of us except for Pax (who stayed with Grandma and Grandpa) got to climb! It was really fun to belay the kids, and fun for Jeff and I to belay each other. Planting seeds for our future garden - we spent one day at Grandma's house, planting seed annuals like dahlias and veggies and birdhouse gourds as well.

An overnight adventure to Washington, D.C.! We arrived at the height of the tension surrounding the possible government shut-down. It was a surreal moment to be on the Mall, surrounded by Planned Parenthood supporters juxtaposed near the ultra-conservative, fundamentalist religious right who were predicting Doomsday - only 43 days left until the End of the World, according to these passionate demonstrators! I felt pride and love for my country, I really did, to bear witness, quite literally, to our first amendment rights.

Our picnic was delicious, the weather was glorious, and it was an unforgettable day.
Still, kids get cranky and tired no matter how gorgeous the flowers and no matter how free our speech might be. This is the last decent shot before meltdowns abounded:
We all perked up after happy hour (juice for the kids; wine for the wise ones) and a dip in the pool. We headed to a great little Asian-American restaurant where the kids floored me by eating with chopsticks - so perfectly! They were very cleverly designed; I found a link to make them at home. In our kitchen we have a black and white picture of Aidan, taken at about age 14 months, in this exact spot and style. We decided to replicate the photo with all three boys. It will look even better in B&W, I think!
I love the feeling I get when I see this picture. We were all so happy, fully recovered from the day's earlier crabbiness and general fatigue that inevitably accompanies adventure. We were about to feast on Ben & Jerry's ice cream and stroll the town, well past bedtime but happy as could be. We used the self-timer for the shot, which always makes me laugh, too.
Mischief in the morning. Leo is wearing said headlamp from the previous night's reading, and annoying the crap out of Aidan. Aidan is trying to ignore him as he's fully engrossed in a Pokemon Tyflosion!
Back home, there were puppet shows. Aidan's was about a knight, a dragon, and a castle. Leo's was about two monsters, one of whom had a very large ear! Their creativity is endlessly delightful to me.These cutout kids actually came from a church activity, and they were so cute, I had to find a more permanent place for them. I never dread coming down to the basement to get something now that I am greeted by these cheerful cuties!

I saved this photo for the very end, because it is my all-time favorite. I adore the crazy camera angle, and I love how happy everyone looks - is - in the photo. It pretty much sums up our lives: kinda crazy and off-kilter, sometimes with a gray background, but at the center - love.

My Rockin' List

2011-04-19T20:00:00.004-04:00

Mary Oliver's The Summer Day always leaves me breathless, particularly the last two lines:

"Tell me, what is it you plan to do/with your one wild and precious life?"

When I am 94 years old and sitting in my rocking chair on my wraparound porch, I'll look back and remember, with great fondness, the many adventures I've had in my life - including the following ten items, dubbed my Rockin' List. The rule of the list - each item has to be moderately to significantly outside of my comfort zone.

1. Travel the world. I've never been out of the country. (Canada and a day trip to Mexico doesn't count.) Nuff said, right? Plus, there's always this blog post for additional motivation... (and accountability!)

2. Team up with Jeff for a "Teachers & Nurses Without Borders" service trip - nationally or internationally.

3. Hike and camp along some of the Appalachian Trail as a whole family - the last 75 miles or so, with a respite with friends and family in Maine.

4. Sing karaoke in a bar. (You're surprised by this one, right? This one counts in the "Significantly outside my comfort zone" item).

5. Learn to play a new instrument - either the bagpipes or the guitar. I'm leaning toward the latter - the bagpipes would be a tough sell around our campfire on the Appalachian Trail.

6. Ride on a motorcycle. This includes a trip to a local, shady biker bar for cheap beer out of a dirty glass. Bonus points for quoting from Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance by Robert Pirsig while at the bar.

7. Participate in a Sprint Triathlon. I'm thinking fall 2012 on this one. It's a 5 mile run, 20 ish mile bike ride, and about a half mile swim. The swim will definitely be a challenge. Either the sharks will get me, or I'll end up borrowing Pax's swim fins to make it across.

8. Submit something - an article, poem, prose, research paper, policy brief - for publication. Persist until something is published. (Letters to the Editor in the local paper do not count.)

9. Learn to drive stick shift - well. This is imperative, for no self-respecting, future mini-cooper driver would embarrass herself by buying automatic.

10. Make a difference -

"One hundred years from now, it will not matter what my bank account was, how big my house was, or what kind of car I drove. But the world may be a little better, because I was important in the life of a child."–Forest E. Witcraft

For me, this is my quiet desperation, my ultimate hope and dream. I want to matter. I want to be someone who matters for my own children – for Aidan, Leo, and Pax. But I want to be that person for my students as well. I want to be the teacher who Danny remembers as the one who finally found a “breakthrough book” for him, resulting in a lifetime of reading for pleasure. The teacher whose high expectations for Keisha were unwavering – who celebrated with her when she finally made the honor roll, her ultimate goal. The teacher who taught Samantha how to write, how to love writing, how to use writing as a tool to express the frustration and sadness deep within her heart. I want to be the teacher whose name is evoked during an acceptance speech, in a valedictorian’s address, over stories swapped at a 25 year reunion. This is arguably the only item on my Rockin’ List that has infinite potential for success – and for failure. Perhaps – hopefully – I will look back and know that in my 100 years of living, my bank account has waxed and waned. I’ve made a home in tents and hostels and comfortable middle class colonials. I’ve driven an automatic minivan and a manual mini-cooper, ridden on the back of a Harley. And I’ll know that I have mattered – to Aidan, Leo, and Pax; to Danny, Keisha, and Samantha; to countless more. This is my quiet desperation.

Eating the Elephant

2011-04-16T20:14:00.008-04:00

How do you eat an elephant?

One bite at a time.....

I'm the juggler who still has all the balls in the air (did that make anyone else giggle, too?) but just barely. I'm long on "to do" and short on "time to do." But as I chomp through the elephant, also known as my overwhelming coursework load, I'm starting to feel my creative juice return; my blogging brain has become dormant these past few weeks but is starting to stretch and yawn again.

Still - a policy brief, case study, and lit review/critical analysis beckons, so this post and the next few will be brief.

My absolute, single favorite thing about each kid right now:

Aidan is obsessed with all things Pokemon. I admit, with only a little guilt, I have not taken the time to educate myself on the ins and outs of Pokemon. Predictably, I often feel like he is speaking a foreign language when he launches his monologues on Pikachu and the evolution of the Pokemon. Because these monologues can go on at great length, and during a recent road trip to D.C., (a future post on that adventure) Jeff and I made a game out of the monologue. We quietly decided that we'd earn $1 every time Aidan used the word "Tyflosion." [phonetic: ty-flow-shun]. It's a funny word to begin with, but Aidan uses it with such reverence that it might very well serve as our "gateway word" for learning the vocabulary of Pokemon. At the end of 45 minutes we'd earned $15. It has turned into a private joke between us, muttered under our breath and out of Aidan's earshot:
Anne: "Did you see that there was an increase in our cable bill this month?"
Jeff: "Yes. There must have been some kind of..... TYFLOSION!!"
I love that Aidan is cultivating his own interests and obsessions, influenced by his peers and playmates. I'm intrigued and delighted to watch this ongoing development of Id, Ego, Superego; I love to watch the unfolding of his inner, individual, unique and one-of-a-kind self.

Leo is a ray of sunshine. During the week, when Aidan is at school, Leo shines his light on our days, and I watch him and marvel and drink in the warmth. On weekends, his light is absorbed - and reflected - by his shiny penny brother. I can't help but feel like an outsider; the two of them have become thick as thieves. But during the week, he's mine. Leo is a terrific shopper at the grocery store - pushing his own tiny cart, choosing bananas and remembering that we need more straws. He checks off our errands on his fingers, rehearsing the order we'll go in and delighting in the completion of tasks. Our afternoon iced coffee ritual has become one of my absolute favorite parts of the day - recently we've reveled in sharing our iced coffee on the deck, listening to the birds and basking in the warmth. Watching him run down the road, or stop to investigate a worm in the grass, or pause to gaze at a passing airplane, I fall in love with him all over again because of the light within him, shining forth to the world, his ability to live in the moment, shine in the moment, spread his light to those who stop and pay attention.

Pax My very favorite thing about Pax these days is the sound he makes when he wants to be picked up. Think about hoisting something heavy up high over your head. You might say "HUH" or "HUT." You might try to give yourself a little boost by trying to jump off the ground a bit. You might hold your hands up high and frantically open and close your fists.... which, collectively, is exactly what Pax does. I absolutely love it. Jeff and I describe Pax as being "so big and so little, all at once." For that is exactly what he is: So big. And so little. Our baby; our big boy holding his own with his brothers. He is the baby I still nurse at night; he is the big boy who carries his own clothes to the hamper and feeds himself with a fork. He is the baby who mutters just a handful of words; he is the big boy who devises sophisticated, nonverbal communication through grunts, gestures, and dramatic faces. So big. So little.

... kinda like my elephant. So big... yet so little.

B.R.A.S.S.

2011-03-31T14:04:00.007-04:00

Birthday celebrations are bountiful in our family during the month of March. We enjoyed a special birthday treat with Jeff this year - I got tickets for the five of us to go see a men's lacrosse game - UVA versus Ohio State. (UVA won, of course). It was the first sporting event we've taken the kids to see, and it was so much fun! Aidan thoroughly enjoyed the spirit of the game and was hollering and cheering along with the rest of the crowd. Leo enjoyed it... until we realized we didn't have enough cash for the $10 bucket of popcorn he wanted. He pouted and stamped on the stands, but no one minded - everyone else was busy stamping their feet, too, in loud appreciation of the fine showmanship of the lacrosse team! And Pax pretty much contented himself with snuggling in the Ergo and made a game of putting his pacifier into my mouth... over and over and over again. The game was great fun, and I love having a new event that the whole family enjoys (er, next time we'll bring wads of cash to throw at the food vendors....)

Run, baby run! Jeff and I ran the C'ville 10 Miler on Saturday, March 26. It was awesome! Even though Aidan is always disappointed that we don't win, (he explained his daydream of "freezing" all the other runners so that Jeff and I could make it to the finish line, then unfreezing them just before we crossed the end of the race) I love the example we set for our kids, a fit mama and a fit daddy racing together. We're coming up on our 10 year anniversary, so we ran the 10 Miler; a marathon at 26, perhaps?

Arse-kicking. That's what this semester has been for me. But I'm fighting back - valiantly - and am so excited to realize that I'm going to graduate in May 2012, with just 2 classes and summer clinic remaining. I'm looking forward, very much, to May 2, 2011 when I can finally breathe a little easier....

Snow! Can you believe it? Snow fell the day after our race, on March 27. Never thought I'd see my hyacinths covered in a layer of snow, but I never thought I'd get my arse kicked by my 60-something professor, either. (I might be exaggerating here. I'm confident I'll still pull out an A... just not the A+ I've grown accustomed to...)

Sandy (my aunt) and her partner Karen came for a visit! It was great fun to have them at our race, because I vividly remember marveling at my aunt when she was running long races herself. She'd come for a visit... and go running! In high school, when I had zero confidence in my running ability, my aunt worked with me at the high school track to run better and longer.... (I'm talking a mile here, people - she helped me make it to a mile!) How sweet to have her support me again, 14 years and many miles later...

So there you have it - B.R.A.S.S. (Make mine a Brass Monkey instead?!)

Simple Gifts

2011-03-18T13:39:00.018-04:00

The world is bursting with turmoil and chaos and unrest and worry. The earthquake and tsunami in Japan continue to unfurl their devastation. The escalating conflict and unrest in Libya, and also in Bahrain, seems to have no end in sight. Closer to home, recent political decisions threaten the very essence of our democracy (Wisconsin's suppression of unions among public employees is just one example). And there's a very sick child in our community whom I worry about every day. I thought the end of February would bring relief, but in some ways, it did not.

During these times, I am grateful, more than ever, for the simplest gifts:

My family - always a gift. Even when Aidan is so hungry he has "the Jeffies" and is wicked mean to everyone in his path - because most of the time, he's one of the most imaginative and inquisitive people I've ever known. Even when Leo is so "four" I think I am going to fall of the end of my rope - for good - because he is the friendliest of social butterflies, greeting every old biddy we pass in the grocery store. Even when Pax spends one and a half hours per night, whimpering and crying, seemingly for no reason - because he still greets me with a huge grin come sunup. And Jeff - even when he forgets to take out the trash or clean the cat pan, he can make me laugh at the most unexpected moments.

But there are so many others:

Fresh cut flowers. I've started buying myself a bouquet every week. In the earliest days of going from two paychecks to one, fresh flowers every week was one of the first - and hardest - things to get cut from our discretionary spending fund. No longer - because I'm worth it. Each week, I present them to myself, to the side of me that feels particularly overtaxed: the cleaning lady; the financial planner; the mama-nurse. This week, the flowers are for the graduate student who posts to her online class forum while waiting for the water to boil for the mac n' cheese and for a call-back from the pediatrician..... because she's worth it.

Cool crafts and projects, and the kids who love to craft. Aidan and Leo spent an hour building and rebuilding with Dots and toothpicks. (Pax tried to spend an hour eating the Dots. Eventually, he contented himself with poking them with toothpicks, mimicking his brothers!)

Another cool project - dissecting owl pellets. It's a terrible picture, but a great memory. I want to remember, always, how earnestly Aidan dug into the pellets, literally, examining each tiny bone and the skull and the fur and the teeth.

"Catching" the boys reading past bedtime. Again - not a good picture - but when I went upstairs to grab the laundry, I noticed their room was quiet but not dark. It was past their bedtime. I peeked my head in, ready to admonish, but all I could do was grin. There they were, engrossed in their own world of wonder and adventure - nestled in the calm quiet of their beds with books in hand.

We went to the zoo. We bought some pet food to feed to the giraffes. I want to remember, always, that Pax ate the giraffe food and was furious when I tried to sweep it out of his mouth, furious when I pried the remaining kibble from his tightly clenched fist.

An 81 degree day in March. We celebrated by eating dinner out on the deck - the first time this season. (Also note the gorgeous blue sky in the background)

The gift of music. Doesn't this look awesome, all kum-ba yah and whatnot? Can you see us on our next camping trip, gathered 'round the campfire with s'mores and songbooks in hand? I'm determined to make it happen, determined to learn to play the guitar -- just look at the rapt and adoring attention I get from all these males!

And I return again to my most favorite simple gift. My family. Often, my heart is so heavy when I head to bed at night, heavier still when Jeff is working and I'm not able to unburden myself of my worries. Three loveys sit on my nightstand for that very purpose. For my birthday, Jeff bought a Monkey, Dog, and Ox (representing the Chinese birth years of Aidan, Leo, and Pax, respectively). Then he bought tiny recordable buttons and recorded the peals of laughter of each boy onto the buttons before painstakingly sewing each one into the stuffed animals. At night before bed, I play them, sometimes all at once and sometimes individually. I cannot help but drift off to sleep with a smile on my face, my heart lightened, after listening to their beautiful laughter and replaying it in my mind's ear, over and over....

"The most wasted of all days is one without laughter."

-e.e. cummings

Family Tradition

2011-03-09T20:18:00.002-05:00

(Okay, fine, this is utterly cheating. But I wrote this piece for my writing class, and it's fairly well revised and polished, and I'm feeling guilty about not blogging even though I have several drafts in the queue and so I'm resorting to cheating. But it's a nice tradition, cheating or no...)

********

My mother’s finest tea cups, Royal Doulton bone china laced with delicate flowers, lay before us on the table. At age 8, I could hardly believe my luck – it was Christmas Eve; I was up past bedtime (too excited to sleep, anyway); I got to use the fancy cups and drink tea with way too much sugar and milk. Best of all, seated around the base of the softly glowing Christmas tree were two of my most favorite women: my mom and her mom, my beloved grandmother. A tradition was born.

We shared tea for years and years and years. Our time together, like the tea we shared, was delicious and warm, infused with love. In 1994, when I was a freshman in high school, things changed. My beloved grandma died in the earliest hours of Christmas Eve, before we’d had a chance to drink our tea. It was not unexpected, yet the grief and pain of losing her on such an important and significant day shattered my heart like the fine china we’d sipped from. There was no tea that year….

In 2006, Adam, his partner Linsey, and their son Hugo joined us for Christmas; my mom and I were thrilled to have another woman join us for tea. Linsey had heard about this tradition before, and arrived prepared… with a new blend of “tea,” this one more of the bubbly and spirited kind. We exchanged our Wedgwood for Waterford, rose leaf tea for sparkling rosé. Although I was well past my 21^st birthday, I had the odd sensation of feeling like that eight year old again, experiencing my first grown up tea with the fine women in my life; the rosé proved to be a whole new kind of grown up tea.

Hello Yellow!

2011-03-01T20:55:00.005-05:00

The newly minted yellow belt, featured here with his Shihan and Sensei ("Master of Teachers" and "Teacher")

2 1/2 hours and 200 push ups later, Aidan earned his first belt in karate - his yellow belt. It was a proud day! Shihan, as he is called by students and parents alike, runs an impressive karate dojo. He demands excellence and respect - and through his own excellence and respect, he earns it. And so I loved what happened on the day of Aidan's belt test. As the dozen or so white belts were preparing to do their kata, the main part of the test, Shihan challenged them to do the kata one time only - no mistakes - perform the kata perfectly on the first try. Poised and ready, with parents looking on in eager anticipation, the tension was broken for a moment when Shihan added, "It's never been done. I don't want to dash your hopes here, but it's never been done in just one try." A chuckle rippled through the parents, and then silence resumed before the white belts began their kata. Once finished, they froze into their final position. There was silence, as Shihan stared at them all. Sensei Joey came over and whispered in his ear. More silence. Finally - Shihan said, "This kills me to say this. It kills me. But that was perfect. You are the first ones ever to do the kata in just one try."

Wax on, my karate kid!!

Pendulum

2011-02-23T21:03:00.010-05:00

I'm waiting for the pendulum to shift, for the tides to turn, for life's equilibrium to balance itself out again. I'm waiting for February to end, for sick children to be well, for parents to feel the weight of their worries become lighter. I'm waiting for good news, for laughter, for joy and celebration. I'm waiting for the color and life to return to the gray and tired landscape of our home and our hearts.

I am tired of waiting.

In Sue Monk Kidd's The Secret Life of Bees, there is a character, May Boatwright, who is the very essence of compassion. When the burden of other's sorrows becomes too much, May heads to a wall she has created, her very own "wailing wall." There, she commits her worries to ink on paper, and buries the tiny scroll in a nook or cranny in the lengthy wall of stone. She sings, she prays, she meditates, and eventually, she seems to heal.

I think of May Boatwright when the burdens become too heavy, when the pendulum seems to be stuck. I think of her wall, a place for her to lay down her sorrows, a ritual for sadness. May discovered a powerful tool to express her burdens, but she never discovered the antidote. Because she, like Atlas, could not unyoke herself from the weight of the world, she eventually drowned in its sorrow.

And so I seek the antidote. I cling to whatever promises to keep me afloat for the day. Yesterday, it was the simple pleasure of sharing iced coffee with Leo, only Leo, in the quiet moments after his nap and before Pax has awakened and Aidan has returned from school.

Today, it is this photograph, taken about a week ago on a day I was clinging to a different promise - the sunshine, the unseasonably warm 60 degrees offered in the middle of the gray and tired days of February...

...because it is in the smallest pleasures that we find the antidote to carry us through, t0 shift the pendulum and bring the sunshine to our backs, the warmth to our hearts, and the laughter to our faces.

Philosophy of Parenting

2011-02-15T21:20:00.006-05:00

I am completely cheating here. This isn't a real blog post. But I was utterly captivated by this website I stumbled upon on one of the endless pages of Facebook. The juxtaposition of philosopher and comic strip is both transparent and opaque all at once. I absolutely love it - but why? I couldn't even pick a favorite to permalink; you'll just have to "refresh" for yourself and find your own Niche....(get it??... like find your own Nietzsche??...)

It's the philosophy. It always is. I've forever had a love-hate relationship with Family Circus. The kids annoyed me to no end, yet occasionally Keane's strips were downright poetic, prophetic, poignant. Paired with Nietzsche, it is beautiful. Nietzsche lends credibility to Family Circus, and Family Circus likewise illustrates, in plain view, Nietzsche's profound thoughts.

Parenting is an art, much like philosophy. Seeking answers to elusive and impossible questions, these are disciplines that even the most experienced, wisest students cannot fully master. And yet they, philosophers and parents alike, persevere, day after day after day after day. Love of Wisdom - Love of Children.

Love and Kisses

2011-02-13T21:04:00.004-05:00

On Valentine's Day of our first year of marriage, I typed out 100 things I love about Jeff, printed the list on card stock, carefully cut them apart, and hot-glued each one to an individual Hershey's Kiss (having already removed the Hershey's paper). It was a fun gift to make, and one that he enjoyed long after the chocolates had been eaten.

We decided to do the same for our children this year for Valentine's Day, because although we say a hundred times a day "I love you!" we realized that we wanted to tell them just why, exactly, we love them so much. Fearful of what 100 chocolates would do to some already very energetic little boys, we limited ourselves to 25 for each boy...

Aidan
1. I love how you are such a good brother - you play so well with Leo and you are sweet and tender to Pax. They are so lucky!!!!
2. I love the stories you tell and how you remember lots of details about events that have happened.
3. I love that you NOTICE EVERYTHING - like when Mommy cleans the house or hangs up a new picture - you notice!!!
4. I love how hard you concentrate on things that are important to you, like karate.
5. I love how you invent all sorts of creations with anything and everything you find!!
6. I love how playful you are.
7. I love how curious you are about everything, and how much you love to learn.
8. I love the jokes you invent - even if I don’t get them.
9. I love watching you act out scenes from movies like How to Train Your Dragon
10. I love how thoughtful you are, like putting out Mom’s coffee mug in front of the pot for her.
11. I love how you make connections between things that matter - for example, connecting Frederick to our summer memories jar
12. I love that you have such a great sense of smell!!
13. I love that you are willing to try new foods at the table, and you are enthusiastic about what I cook for dinner.
14. I love seeing you make faces at yourself in the mirror when you think no one else is looking.
15. I love how you draw me such sweet pictures, you are quite the artist.
16. I love that you play little tricks on me.
17. I love when you come up and hug me when I haven’t asked for it.
18. I love when you cuddle with the kitties.
19. I love watching you play, you have a WONDERFUL imagination!
20. You are always surprising me with how smart you are, I love that!
21. I love playing games with you, chess, nine man’s morris, cards, wii...
22. I love how much you are interested in science and how things work.
23. I love your jokes, you think of such witty things to say.
24. I love how you snuggle with Pax and Leo.
25. We love you SO much Aidan Paul! Happy Valentine’s Day!

Leo
1. I love how you sing songs all the time! I also love that you can sing right on key.
2. I love how you dress up in different costumes all the time.
3. I love how you talk to yourself, especially when you are convincing yourself to have good behavior.
4. I love hearing you laugh.
5. I love how you wear mismatched pajamas
6. I love the pictures you draw. You are such a good artist!
7. I love how well you imitate sounds you hear, other people’s voices, and even lines from movies.
8. I love how you are so articulate, how you are so expressive and you speak very clearly.
9. I love how determined you are to do things by yourself, and how capable you are.
10. I love what a wonderful brother you are to Aidan and Pax - I especially love how well you transition between being the younger brother to Aidan and the older brother to Pax. They are so lucky!!
11. I love what a good friend you are to your preschool buddies.
12. I love watching you run with a soccer ball and ride your two-wheeler bike. I love that you can ride a two wheeler.
13. I love how BIG your imagination is - like when you fly your guys all over the place.
14. I love how you are always thinking of next Halloween, even on Halloween!
15. I love when you dress up in lots of different costumes, then change in the middle of playing.
16. I love making train tracks with you.
17. I love when you sing sweet little songs, you are such a good singer.
18. I love to drink coffee with you.
19. I love that you are always thinking of some way to get me to buy donuts from Dunkin’ Donuts.
20. I love how you share with other people and think of other people.
21. I love that you try so hard to do thing for yourself and by yourself, it will serve you well.
22. I like that you say please and thank you a lot!
23. I secretly think it is funny when you wear your clothes backwards, I love that about you.
24. I love that you love to be so close to people and snuggle, you are a good snuggler.
25. We love you SO much Leo Gabe! Happy Valentine’s Day!

Pax
1. I love the funny funny faces you make.
2. I love how well you communicate, even though you only say one word and sign less than 5 words.
3. I love how you sleep through the night!
4. I love how you “hide” and pretend to be shy.
5. I love how you show us your belly!!!!!
6. I love how you scrunch your face up, for fun.
7. I love how you are a climber - even though it drives me nuts!
8. I love how much you love your brothers. I love that you make them want to have another baby, because you are so wonderful.
9. I love that you are such a wonderful companion, happy to ride in the ergo and take in the world, no matter where we go - the bus stop; the grocery store; a long hike in Shenandoah.
10. I love how you make me laugh all the time, especially when I am having a hard day.
11. I love how delighted you get when I sign to you “I love you!”
12. I love how you can use self-inking stampers, even if you insist on using the floor as your canvas.
13. I love how you insist on cleaning up messes you’ve made on the floor (like spilled Cheerios) and I especially love how much you love the dustpan and broom.
14. I love when we share cheerios in the morning when I come home from work.
15. I love how you have such a good sense of humor, you tell funny jokes.
16. I love how you are such a little guy that wants to be so big!
17. I love what a good helper you are - like when you went and got me my towel all by yourself.
18. I love your laugh when I tickle you.
19. I love when you think things are funny when no one else is paying attention.
20. I love the way you sing to music in the car.
21. I love it when you play peek-a-boo.
22. I love how you love to play with your brothers, even if it means jumping on them to get them to play with you.
23. I love how you love to take a bath and know what to do when we tell you “It’s bathtime!”
24. I love what a beautiful little person you are inside and out.
25. We love you SO much Pax Augustus! Happy Valentine’s Day!

Secretary of State....

2011-02-02T07:42:00.005-05:00

Carrying on with the political theme here.... Pax is our resident Secretary. (of the State of Chaos, maybe?) Recent proof:

Last week, Pax was eating a snack in his high chair in the kitchen while Jeff vacuumed the other rooms. Jeff looked over at Pax at one point to see him staring directly at Jeff and pointing to the phone. Jeff turned off the vacuum and sure enough, the phone was ringing...

This week, I was anticipating a phone call but really needed to do a quick cleaning. I parked Pax in his high chair again in the kitchen and before I turned on the vacuum, I said, "You tell me if the phone is ringing, okay? Let me know if the phone rings." I went about my task, and about 5 minutes later when I came into his view again, Pax was staring at me and pointing to the phone. No way, I thought. Is this happening twice? But when I shut off the vacuum, there was no ringing phone. I went over to see if perhaps there was a message, but no, there was not. "You silly boy, the phone did not ring!" I said to Pax. In response, he pointed again to the phone. Skeptically, I decided to scroll through the caller ID (with time stamp). Lo and behold, not one minute before, I had received the phone call I had been waiting for!! Genius Baby! I called my friend back - "My secretary said that you called?"

State of our Union

2011-01-27T14:14:00.014-05:00

....so I'm a day late and a dollar short. What's new. I started this post a week ago, when the title would have been timely and clever. Now... not so much, but all the same--

January is a wonderful time to take stock, look back on the year that has just ended, look forward to the events to come in the months ahead. I love the full, blank calendar at the beginning of the new year - the possibility it holds, the potential for fun and excitement and unforgettable memories. I love dreaming of warmer months, penciling in plans six or eight months from now, coloring this month's squares with cheerful designs, cordoning off the time to be spent with friends and family. (Of course, the realist in me always looks at the blank squares and knows that some of them, too, will be filled with sadness and frustration and unexpected events as well....)

President Obama's State of the Union address got me thinking - what is the state of our union?

In short, it's pretty great. Life is good. As much as I love the baby days, life with a toddler is more predictable, a little bit quieter, and not so much grasping-for-a-life raft. I estimate that my

SPN (sleep per night) hours have doubled since this time one year ago. (All credit goes to the fantastic Jeff Carter, as well as the kid-free weekend getaway to NYC in November with my mom, my bestie, and her mom...) I could probably stop right now in my address - well rested mama = happy family.

Pax is endlessly amusing to us all. Even in his mischief, we cannot help but laugh. Leave it to Pax

to end our streak of never having walls or carpets colored on by children - in the midst of the heyday and chaos one morning, the stealthy boy grabbed his panda face stamp (that he is quite adept at using, all thanks to the instruction from his older brothers) and gave the family room rug a complete makeover. I've got nothing against panda bears, but they simply do not match

the decor. When I "scolded" him, he looked right at me - and cackled! He is one of the most skilled communicators I've ever met, yet his vocabulary consists of precisely one word: Mama. It is the delivery that conveys his every want and need. "Mum mum mum mum" with a fist opening and closing repeatedly is his begging request - "I want that. NOW!!" "[?]ama!!" means

"I'm excited to see you, whoever you are!" (Everyone interprets this particular variation to mean that Pax is calling them by name. "He just said Dada, did you hear it?" "Was that Grandma I just heard?" "Yes, that's right, it's Grandpa!" And the one that needs no interpretation at all - "MAAAA MAAA!!!!" "I'm hurt! Help me, my brothers are tormenting me! I'm bored silly, come

here, get me out of this crib!!" But there is one that is truly just for me - "MAma." Delivered with a huge grin and what I can only imagine is a full heart. Everyone knows exactly what he means when he says it this way.

Leo is four, fully four. His birthday party, a Dinosaur Extravaganza, was great fun. The young paleontologists who helped him celebrate hunted for dino bones, ran in a dino dress up relay race, made Brachiosaurus top hats, and even got to explode a volcano. I made a Stella Stegosaurus cake - probably my most ambitious cake to date - and she turned out quite well, despite the duct tape I eventually used on her head....

Leo is in that delicious world of magical thinking. His imagination knows no bounds, and he revels in the opportunity to dress up in a different costume - or seven - every day. Currently, his go-to outfit is the Superwhy costume from Halloween. In his words - "You want to know why I loooove being Superwhy? Because I looove wearing these green tights!" He has an ear for music and loves to sing. I had a "driveway moment" the other day - he was singing along to the radio, that very sweet love song with the refrain "You are the only exception..."

(Paramore) and there was Leo, lost in his own world, tenderly singing on pitch and carefully enunciating every syllable. I watched him through the rearview mirror, watching my exceptional boy, not wanting the song to end.

Aidan is my scholar, my boy who loves school to the point where he was crying that there was no school last week due to wintery weather. His schedule dictates much of the family's life right now, and that's okay, because there's so much fun and joy to be had. He has been taking karate since August, and the discipline of the art has been wonderful for him. He recently joined a different cub scout den, one that is much larger and with boys who are very committed to Scouts, and he is particularly excited about the upcoming Pinewood Derby. He is taking a music class through the Saturday Enrichment Program and loves it. His sketch book is filled with very detailed drawings of all sorts of instruments, as well as pages and pages of quarter notes, eighth notes, and rests. He's convinced he wants to play the drums... so of course, Jeff and I are regaling him with the wonders of smaller, less noisy instruments.... (like the French horn, perhaps). We took the kids to their first ever symphony to hear Peter and the Wolf performed by a local high school orchestra. It was very full-circle for me - watching a high school group, remembering being on that stage myself, but now being in the audience with my very own kids. Aidan is entering the world of big kids now, and while I am slightly sad to see that play-doh no longer holds much appeal, I am so very excited for him...

Jeff continues to love his job as a nurse, and seems to be exceptionally good at it, considering the number of "love notes" he receives from patients and the higher-ups at the hospital alike. Although I don't wish a stay in the neuro unit on anyone, I can't help thinking how lucky they would be to experience Jeff's compassionate, healing care. Jeff has started training for two races we're going to run together - the 10 miler and the 10K that I did last year. I'm really excited at the chance to be his coxswain again - er, to run with him, I mean! It should be great fun.

....and I am at the very beginning of what will likely be the hardest and most stressful semester of school to date. I am taking one very hard class, Reading Disabilities, and won't pretend that I'm not intimidated by the 9 Ph.D. candidates in my class. I'm also taking a writing class, which I think I will enjoy quite a bit, but it is still a huge commitment of my time and my mental resources. I hope that my blog writing will not suffer as a result of all my school work, but a gentle nudge to get back on track will be appreciated, if necessary.

I fear my State of the Union address holds more resemblance to a Christmas letter than anything else - but sometimes, you gotta have a little bit of a "catch up" in order to move forward. In short, the State of our Union is pretty terrific. Indeed, 2011 will witness the 10 year anniversary of this Union. Hip Hip, Hooray!

not a baby's lullaby

2011-01-15T19:52:00.002-05:00

There are moments in mothering that stop me in my tracks - because of the shock, the joy, the poignancy, the bare truth revealed. The indelible moment that embedded itself in my memory today came in the most unexpected and roundabout way and left me crying in a flood of clarity, relief, and understanding.

The house was too quiet (ha! in a house with three boys??) so I put on Elizabeth Mitchell's album Sunny Day. (It's been about 6 weeks since we heard anything but Christmas music around here.) Aidan said, "Oh I love these songs! I have them on my MP3 player." We had been listening for awhile, singing along with the many familiar songs when he asked, "When will that one come on that starts 'Rest your head my angel?' It's my favorite."

For as much as I love music, I am terrible about actually listening to the words, and I could not think of which song it could possibly be without hearing the tune. A few songs later, he said "This one! This is it!" I listened carefully, ever so carefully. This was my boy's favorite song, and I wanted to know why...

Rest your head my angel

Stay here by my side

I've been doing some thinking

And you've been on my mind.

Oh, you're growing up so fast

Right before my eyes

You don't have to figure everything out

You just take your time

You just take your time.

Come and sit here beside me

Tell me what's on your mind

I can see you've been troubled

But you don't have to cry.

Oh, you're growing up so fast

Right before our eyes

You don't have to figure everything out

You just take your time

You just take your time.

The truth of those words left me with big, fat tears rolling down my cheeks. While it was Elizabeth who sang so beautifully, it was Aidan's clear, beseeching voice I heard in the words that spoke straight to the core of my being. I repeated the song, over and over again, memorizing the profound lyrics.

These last weeks and months, I've been struggling mightily with expecting a lot of my oldest boy, and simultaneously knowing that I'm expecting too much. I can only imagine how hard it is to be the firstborn. Yes, there is a lot of privilege, a lot of opportunity, a lot of singular attention. But there is also a lot of responsibility, a lot of burden, a lot of lofty (and unrealistic) expectations. Recent conversations with my friends have included lengthy discussions on how hard we are on our firstborns. Even knowing that we're hard on them, it's sometimes hard to stop. Because they are so capable, because they are so big and grown up, because they are our first ones and no matter how long we've been a mom, they are still the first to enter uncharted waters, every single day. Toddler tantrums? No problem. A preschooler fighting rest time? Big deal. But first grader frustrations? Oh how often I wish I had a user's manual to guide me.

The song stopped me in my tracks. This lullaby isn't for babies. This is a big boy lullaby, a quiet song to end the day, a deep message for Mother and Child. Yes, you are growing up so fast. I see your troubles and your worries. While I might not cradle you and rock you anymore, please rest your head on me. Leave your worries with me, and take your time. I am here so you can take your time. Take your time, take your time, in your own good time - I will be here. I will let you. I am here.

(Click on the link below to hear Elizabeth Mitchell's version of David's Mandolin - a.k.a Big Boy Lullaby)

My Frederick

2011-01-11T20:50:00.008-05:00

There is a wonderful children's book called Frederick by Leo Lionni. (1967). At the story's beginning, a young family of field mice scurries around, making all the necessary preparations for the upcoming winter - collecting berries, gathering wheat, finding a cozy hideaway in the stones. Everyone works hard - except for Frederick. Disdainfully, the others question him, "Why don't you work?" He replies - "I am working." Frederick works at gathering the warmth of the sun's rays; the gorgeous colors of the meadow; and words. Finally, it is the dead of winter. The mice have depleted most of their food. They turn to Frederick in their misery, and ask him to share his supplies. Under Frederick's guidance, the mice revel in the warmth of the sun, of the colors that are painted in their memories, of the beautiful words Frederick has composed into a poem. Always humble, Frederick accepts their love and praise, knowing that his work has earned his keep among the mice.

**********

In August, just before school started, I came across a wonderful idea in Family Fun magazine: a summer memory jar. In the hot and humid days that ended our summer, it was hard to imagine that we'd soon be facing the bitter cold of January, the lonely days of February, and the relentless hold that March often has on winter - yet I knew the summer memory jar would make it more bearable. And so we began. Each of us wrote down (or drew pictures of) our most favorite summer memories, with enough detail to bring us back to those specific moments in time. We added more memories to the jar over several days until it was full, then tucked it away on a side table in the dining room, to be brought out again when the days were bitter cold...

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

....Then, just a few days ago, after Aidan chose Frederick as his going to bed book, the lightbulb suddenly shined bright over his clever mind. "Oh Mom!" he exclaimed. "We are just like Frederick! We collected all those summer memories and now we can read them and remember when it was warm!!"

Yes, Aidan, we are just like Frederick - more accurately, you are just like Frederick. You are my collector of sunshine, of colors, of words - you are my poet. And you've certainly earned your keep.

Heads or...

2011-01-09T14:21:00.003-05:00

Monticello?

Happy New Year! There is something delicious about starting a new year. January offers new opportunities, renewed optimism for the future, a commitment to change, a willingness to tackle projects with gusto,(hypothetically, at least) and, a fresh perspective.

And it's the perspective part that I loved today. I'm always humbled by the creativity of children, the unique outlook they have on life. I love how they think. This morning, I overheard Aidan and Leo in their room, clearly playing some kind of game. I kept hearing Aidan say to Leo, "Do you want to be Monticello?" Leo would answer yes or no. Aidan would ask again. Leo would respond again. What am I missing? I wondered. How are they "Being" Monticello? (It was a quiet game, for sure, but I just couldn't picture them standing like Doric columns...) Finally, I stuck my head in and asked what they were doing.

"We're playing Heads or Monticello. I flip the coin, and it either lands on Heads, or it lands on Monticello. We keep track of who is the winner," answered Aidan.

Well, of course. I don't know if it's our proximity to The University or our proximity to Monticello Tourguide Grandma, but either way, I was more than a little surprised - and delighted - by this fresh perspective.

A Handmade's Tale

2010-12-30T21:05:00.001-05:00

The most meaningful gifts I've ever received are those that are handmade. A lifesize doll, pewter ornaments, a wooden music box, my quilt, hand-knit scarves, framed artwork, photographs, and poetry are just some of the cherished homemade gifts I've received - and loved - over the years. Thinking about ways to make Christmas more meaningful this year, I decided that our gift theme would be "Made from the heart."

In October, I gathered all the necessary supplies for making glorious gifts: wooden boxes, canvases, picture frames, paints, photos, mod-podge, and more. I spent several afternoons working with each boy to create beautiful gifts for each other. Leo and Aidan each made small trinket boxes for each other, carefully painting, then decorating the outside of each box. Aidan wrote sweet notes to Leo to put in his box, and I scribed a list of "wonderful things about Aidan" for Leo to put in the box he was making for Aidan. The older boys painted picture frames for Pax, then created pictures to go in the frames. I finished all of the frames and boxes with a protective coating. The end result was like lots of kid projects: the whole was greater than the sum of its parts.

Another afternoon, the boys created gorgeous and original notecards for extended family and friends with cardstock, liquid starch, acrylic paint, and a water bath. Each notecard was beautiful in its design, the colors either vibrant and bright or light pastels. After they had dried and I pressed them flat, I divided them into piles of four and added the envelopes to go with them. There was not a single one among them that was unattractive - each was unique and special.

In November, I took the boys to the Glass Palette to create fused glass art for my parents and for Jeff. Working together, they made two of the most gorgeous abstract art ornaments you've ever seen - not to mention, the experience itself was so much fun!

Jeff helped Aidan create a beautiful Christmas plate for me - Aidan had seen how upset I was after two (!!) of my beloved Christmas plates (decorations, not used for food) got broken. He set out to re-create the Christmas tree surrounded by holly, and the result is, dare I say? -- better than the Spode original. (though I still regret that the Spode was shattered). Leo made the sweetest mug for me, adorned with a colorful rainbow, a heart, his name carefully printed, and two of his famously cute people drawn on it.

Pax helped with the fused glass art (and the projects for me as well) in the way he knows best - staying out of the way - but even he got to make a gift for his older brothers. He chose his favorite picture of all three boys and carefully mounted it to a piece of cardstock. Then, he painstakingly handprinted two sides of the picture with his acrylic painted hands and asked me to write "Best Brothers Ever - Hands Down!" below the photograph. The framed masterpiece was fantastic.

Meanwhile, Jeff and I were also hard at work on our own homemade gifts. (Oddly, we chose not to do homemade gifts for each other this year, although we've frequently done them in the past. But we certainly enjoyed all the time we spent working on and collaborating with each other on the projects!) Jeff had found these Nature Collages in a catalog, and we instantly knew how much the boys would love them. Instead of purchasing them, Jeff crafted them himself, and they turned out beautifully. For my own part, I made each boy a cute and cozy fleece hat, complete with funky prints and pom poms.

The project I am most proud of, however, is the cookbook-storybook I created, with Jeff's help, titled Betty Eater's The Joy of the Table. Quite simply, it is a collection of recipes, each of which includes a rich story behind it. There's the "Four Generation Banana Bread," the "Rattlesnake Pasta," and the "How I Met Your Father Soup." In addition to writing, rewriting, editing, and finalizing each story, I also cooked or baked each recipe in the book and carefully photographed each dish. I have a whole new appreciation for food photographers - it was hard work getting the food to look good! The end result is something I hope will be cherished and enjoyed by the recipients of the book; I certainly enjoyed the time I spent making the gift. (How wonderful, too, to discover a gift under the tree quite coincidentally for "Betty Eater" - a handmade apron from my mother!)

The mod-podge has left residue on our kitchen counters; the acrylic paint stained a few shirt sleeves (and Pax's pajamas!); there were some minor injuries in the sewing and hammering; but the cost of the gifts we gave? Priceless.

"If as Herod, we fill our lives with things, and again with things; if we consider ourselves so unimportant that we must fill every moment of our lives with action, when will we have time to make the long slow journey across the desert as did the Magi? Or sit and watch the stars as did the shepherds? Or brood over the coming of the Child as did Mary? For each one of us there is a desert to travel, a star to discover and a being within ourselves to bring to life."

(Source Unknown)

Joy's Shadow

2010-12-28T19:42:00.006-05:00

This year, Christmas would be different. Less stress, more merry, more meaningful-ness in everything that we do, less do-ing on my part, more memorable stuff, less stuff stuff...

It was so good. It was among my most favorite Christmases for sure. Yet every year, despite all the happiness, despite all the sheer gratitude I feel, there is always some sadness - always. Desperately, I seek to find the reason behind this shadow of sorrow that hovers around me in such a way that even amidst my joy, I feel the Shadow's weight.

The day after Christmas, I needed to clear my head out because my Shadow was becoming heavier than I was willing to let her be. I headed outside, by myself, for a walk around the block. Bundled tightly against the frigid chill and stepping carefully over the leftover slicks of ice and mounds of snow, I walked and walked while Shadow and Joy battled each other out in my head. "Why are you here?" Joy demanded. Shadow did not respond, yet her silence and unwavering presence commanded Joy's attention. I walked and walked.

The seed of my shadow was probably planted in my freshman year of high school when my grandmother died on Christmas Eve. For many years after that, we each tried desperately to replace the sadness of her death with the joy we hope to feel at Christmas. Eventually, of course, we did. As a family, we healed and recovered and Christmas was full of joy again- as well as the memory of my dear Grandma. And so as I walked, I searched for other such sources of sadness...

"But I am just so grateful. I have so much gratitude for rich blessings in my life. What is this weight of sadness?" Joy persisted. Finally, after I had walked and walked, the answer came to me quickly and with clarity; instinctively, I knew I'd found what I had sought. "Compassion," Shadow replied. "In order to have deep gratitude for something, you often must have deep compassion for it as well."

The logical, sense-making right hemisphere of my brain seemed satisfied. My heart felt comforted. For this year, as with every single year, there has been heartache and hardship and grief and loneliness and hunger and pain and longing and desperation. Thinking of these people and the burdens they have carried, I feel deep compassion for them, knowing how hard each day must be, and in particular, how much harder these festival days must be. I've walked in those shoes before. And I've imagined walking in many other pairs, too.

If I could choose a single character trait for my children to develop fully and completely, it would be that of compassion. May my children learn to view others and the world "with passion," and with the willingness "to suffer with [another person]" If this means that the joy of our living will be lined in a faint shadow of sorrow, I'll take umbrage knowing it is because of the depth of our gratitude.

Laughter like a bowlful of jelly

2010-12-26T14:30:00.002-05:00

Among my most favorite Christmas decorations are the myriad nativity sets we have acquired over the years. They are wooden, cross stitched, etched in gourds, formed from resin and ceramic and cloth. They hang as ornaments on small trees, adorn our stockings and tree skirt, and congregate in every room on the main level. Naturally, the kids are drawn to them; watching the kids with the nativities provided great amusement; initially, Aidan couldn't remember the word "Nativity" and instead called them "Activity scenes" - aptly named, as it turns out --

Aidan loves to re-arrange each set of manger-gazers in such a way so that everyone is gathered around the Baby Jesus to admire him. He is creative in his design; I loved finding the animals nestled right between Mary and the wise men. Most often, they huddled in a tight circle around the baby, adoring him and protecting him all at once.

One nativity traveled to church with us on Sunday mornings, and Pax enjoyed seeing how many times he could throw the camel on the ground and still have us pick it up and give it back to him. Next it was the sheep, and then it was Joseph. When he started to chew on the Baby Jesus, however, we decided he'd had enough of the creche. Hastily, each of us grabbed a piece and put it out of Pax's sight to save for another day. Later, I was troubled that I couldn't find all the parts, but decided they would turn up sooner or later.

A week later, Aidan came home from school and said, "Look what I found in my pocket!" (Recently washed, he was wearing the brown cords he'd worn to church). Out came the Baby Jesus from the church nativity set. I loved that he'd toted that baby around in his pocket all day long!

And then there was Leo's take on the whole manger scene. One particular set, the Little People Nativity, was featured prominently in one room of his doll house. He has a strong affinity for the Angel Gabriel, since it is his middle namesake (having only recently accepted that his name is NOT Leo Paul, but rather Leo Gabriel). That angel doesn't do much watching over the stable; instead, the donkey sits perched atop the manger scene while the angel busily drives with the camel in the undersized red Matchbox car convertible. Meanwhile, Mary attends to the baby Jesus, who had the most unfortunate encounter recorded here. He used tiny voices for each of them, high pitched for Mary and higher still for Jesus:

Mary: Oh baby, why are you crying? Let me give you a kiss (kiss)
Jesus: Um, I am crying because I hurt my cheek. Someone dropped me and I hurt my cheek.
Mary: Well does it feel better now that I gave it a kiss?
(apparently a nod from baby Jesus)
Okay, good.

***********
Later, Leo decided Mary was a dirty thing. He took her in the bathtub with her and gave her a thorough scrubbing.
**********
My mom also has a good number of nativity sets at her house; like Aidan, Leo loved arranging the figurines around the Baby Jesus. However, he'd taken all the Baby Jesus's from all the different nativites and gathered them together to adore one Jesus (the cutest one, perhaps?) My mom commented on all the babies and Leo responded,

"Yes, but do you know why there is no sheep here?"

"Why's that?" she asked.

L: The sheep is in time out.

Grandma: Oh, the sheep is in time out? [was the sheep ba-a-a-a-d, I wonder?] Does the baby Jesus ever get put in time out?
L: No, never. But if the Baby Jesus is being naughty, his mama takes him and puts him down for his nap and when he wakes up his behavior is much better.

G: Oh, does that happen to you sometimes?
L: Um, yep!

*********
(Discussing the church pageant with Grandma)
Leo, what do you want to be in this year's Christmas Pageant?

L: Um, a pumpkin.
Grandma: Well, I'm not sure that there was a pumpkin at the birth of Jesus. Is there something else you want to be? A king? A shepherd?
L No. A pumpkin.

(Leo ended up being a "reluctant" king.)
**************
Our Advent calendar included daily questions, like this one:

If you could bring the baby Jesus a gift TODAY, what would you bring him?
Aidan: Gold.
Gold? What would he do with gold? I thought it was a pretty silly gift when the wise men brought it to him in the first place!
Aidan: But I like gold, and He would, too!!
Me: Oh, okay. Well I would bring him a pacifier. It would have helped him sleep a lot better, and it would have helped Mary out, too!
Leo, what would you bring the Baby Jesus?
Leo: Hm. I would bring him a leetle, tiny Santa.

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

And finally - On Christmas day, as is our family tradition, I made a birthday cake for the Baby Jesus (vanilla with chocolate icing - his favorite), decorated with the plastic Baby Jesus from the aforementioned Little People nativity. Leo did not remember this cake from previous years, and didn't see the cake until it was time for dessert. He took one look at the Baby Jesus smushed into the middle of the cake and shrieked, "Why did you do that to the Baby Jesus? That is not nice! He does not like that!" He refused to touch his cake until I washed that baby clean and returned it to his safekeeping. With eyes brimming with tears and a trembling chin, he reported to me at bedtime, "I did NOT like that you put my Baby Jesus into the cake. That made me ANGRY."

Special Delivery... for YOU!

2010-12-19T20:15:00.005-05:00

In our efforts to have a simpler kind of Christmas this year, we decided early on not to send out Christmas cards this year. It seemed like an easy enough piece to let go of, and yet it has not been as easy as I imagined....

For starters, a few friends have expressed disappointment that we're not sending out a card. Last year's manger scene was tough to beat....did we even want to attempt to top it?.... and the popularity of Facebook makes me feel like everyone's seen it all, already - so why should I send out a card? But part of what I loved about our card last year was the fun we had in taking the picture, and if I buy my own excuse about Facebook, I'm feeding the Technology Beast that threatens other time-honored and lovely traditions (like reading Actual Books.)

There are two cards in particular we look forward to receiving each year. The first one is That Christmas Letter - you know the one I mean. Every family gets one - the one from the extended relative whose letter is just.... ridiculous. Maybe it's over-the-top full of accomplishments; maybe it's paragraph after paragraph of oh-woe-is-me; maybe it's so riddled with spelling and grammatical errors you can barely resist pulling out your red pen as you read it. You get one like that too, right? We always have a good laugh when that letter arrives, albeit at the expense of dear family we truly love. But still - the comic relief is usually quite timely amidst the chaos that precedes Christmas. So __________ Family, we thank you for the laughter your card brings and the joy we feel in receiving it!

The other Christmas card we await with great anticipation is that from our college friends, D and J (the "Funtimes" family, I'll call them). I met D the day I moved in; her dorm room was across from mine. 13 years later, we're both moms to big broods of boys - she has a boy Leo's age and twins just a few months younger than Pax. The first Funtimes Christmas card was when they were still childless but newly married - it was a photo card with J. Funtimes dressed in drag as Britney Spears. His outfit was Britney a la "Baby One More Time" but his physique was more

"Britney's Nervous Breakdown." The next year featured a close-up photo of their positive

pregnancy test; the year after that, a photo re-enactment of the delivery of their firstborn son. (Regrettably, I realize I should have archived each year, for subsequent years get kind of foggy.) And so it was with great anticipation that we awaited the arrival of the 2010 Funtimes Christmas Card - and this year did not disappoint! In essence, this year's photo might just top out the "Got Milk?" campaign, as it features all of the male family members sporting the infamous milk moustache with the implication that the milk THEY all prefer doesn't come from a COW..... but rather from the hot mama in the superhero cape framing the shot.

Oh the fun they must have, scheming up the photo, taking the shot, then mailing it out to all of their beloved friends and family, knowing the laughter that would ensue! I was missing our family photo once more....

And so I settled on a compromise of sorts, at least for this year. We staged several photo shoots on two different days, and got a couple of decent pics:

I love this first shot for several reasons. Leo is ready for summer; Pax is ready for Santa; Jeff is sportin' stripes and snowmen; and Aidan is a vision in teal and red. I also love it because it precedes one of my favorite December traditions of ours: a picnic dinner in front of the Christmas tree.

These next two are "outtakes" from what was our second fun photo shoot. I love how Pax is hanging upside down in the first one, and in the second one, how Leo is peeking around with mischief in his eye.....

..And finally, my favorite family Christmas picture this year (so far.) Envision this photo arriving in your mailbox with the lovely quote calligraphied at the bottom, each card painstakingly hand-made with card stock, letter presses, and glue dots. (Hey, if I'm going to go virtual, I might as well go all out, right?)

"The best of all gifts around a Christmas tree: the presence of a happy family all wrapped up in each other." -Burton Hillis

Merry Christmas to you!

Love, Anne et al.

Shadows

2010-12-09T21:01:00.002-05:00

This is about as quick and dirty as they come - I'm in the thick of final exam prep, holiday prep, shipping prep, wrapping, cooking, baking, and merry making prep. I'll return to my normal, loquacious self after the 14th at approximately 9:00p.m. when my final exam will be finished. Until then -

Tonight my mom invited us to view Monticello in the "after hours" tour for a chance to see Jefferson's home decorated for Christmas. It was cool and kind of spooky to be on grounds after dark - I often feel like you don't really know what a home is like until you see it in darkness...

We were touring the various rooms and Leo kept asking about all the rope barriers that prevent visitors from touching anything in the home. Leo asked, "So we are not allowed in that room?" "No, Leo, we're not allowed." Staring into the room, backlit by candlelights, he asked, "What about shadows? Are shadows allowed into the room?"

I loved, loved, loved this question on so many levels.... Leo delights in his shadow whenever he finds it, and it is still clear that he does not have it altogether figured out yet. On the surface, his question probes a basic concept he has yet to master fully - but delving deeper, it suggests so much more. Maybe I've had a little too much Freud this semester, but all I could think about was a shadow representing one's Id... the ability of my shadow, my Id to go where no one else is allowed to go, to lay down on Jefferson's bed, wear his boots, look out his telescope.

*******

This morning, we were shivering inside the car at the bus stop. I had the heat on, but we were still frozen. Aidan looked up at the car's thermometer and said, "I know it is 10 degrees, but what is it in Calcium?" (Celsius).

Gratitude

2010-12-02T09:00:00.002-05:00

(posting a little late - this was intended for Thanksgiving time.)

This November when we created our Tree of Thanks, I noticed that collectively, we were not as enthusiastic nor as, er, gracious as we've been in years past. I thought about this for a time, and realized that, in large part, we continue to be thankful for the same things, year in and year out - and that's a good thing.

Later in the month, as I was reading a parenting magazine that highlighted holiday traditions, my attention immediately went to the "Show and Tell Thanksgiving." The author briefly described the same observation I had made: our families feel such gratitude for the basics in our lives, and because those basics are so important, the list is fairly unchanging over the years. So this mom got savvy. Instead of writing down their lists of gratitudes, instead, mealtime during the month of November consisted of Show and Tell. Each family member would bring one item to the table to share; this item was something they felt particularly grateful for. Predictably, the items included ipods and DSs, but gradually, the kids brought more and more creative items to the table to represent that for which they were most thankful.

And so my list this year, my list of gratitudes, is heavily annotated. I did this a year or two ago, but this time I was determined to be even more specific and detailed, setting this year apart from other years with similar blessings.

I am grateful for my home. THIS home. This small house on this wobbly, steep hill that has bad drainage during heavy rains and a steep driveway that scares most visitors. This house, which has welcomed home three beautiful newborn babies. This house, that has sheltered us during terrible and scary storms, both literal and figurative. This house, that has been upgraded, built upon, painted, wallpapered, repainted, floored, finished, and decorated again and again for seven and a half years - and counting. This house, that has been recently weatherized thanks to a grant from a non-profit energy conservation group, making it even more snug and cozy than before. This house, that I would not trade right now for any other house, because I love it here. Because this is our home, because we've made it so, because it is the place I love to be best in the whole world. I give thanks for home.

I am grateful for my husband. Really, deep down, stop-me-in-my-tracks grateful for the life we have together, for many more years of "for better" than "for worse." My husband, who knows me almost as well as I know myself, and who loves me unconditionally. My husband whom I love unconditionally, despite the fact that he doesn't clean the cat pan often enough, because I simply cannot imagine living life without him. My husband, who supports me in everything I do, who cheers me on, who respects me, who loves me. We have known too many couples whose marriages have ended in divorce, or who have struggled mightily to stay together. I feel so grateful that I am married, happily and forever and ever, that we are living happily ever after. I am grateful for Jeff.

I am grateful for my children, because they enrich my life beyond what I could have hoped to feel otherwise. Because they are funny and so unique and clever and creative. Because they are beautiful, kind, loving. Because they define so much of who I am. I am grateful beyond measure for the richness they have provided, for the quality of life they have granted me. I am so grateful for Aidan - who is such a big kid now, who asks about fractions and reads to his younger brothers and thanks me for the dinner I made and notices when I clean the house. For Leo, who is determined and capable and independent, who is loving and affectionate and cheerful - reminding me of myself, over and over - both in trials and in tribulations. For Pax, who is the Happiest Baby Ever. Who is not such a baby anymore, because he is working so hard at being a big boy like his brothers, who makes me laugh every single day because of the humor he finds in everyday life. Pax, because he is my buddy - when the older boys are into mischief and driving me nuts, he'll snuggle in my arms and hug me close.

I am grateful for our health. Even though last week, on the same day, I took Aidan to see a specialist for an autoimmune virus he's been battling for the past 5 months; I took Leo to our regular pediatrician for his pinkeye and cold; and I treated Pax's hive-covered body because of an allergic reaction to penicillin, given to him because of a terrible ear infection, I am still thankful. Despite all the recent (and ongoing) illness, I know that we are so lucky to have very healthy children - and to be so healthy ourselves.

I'm really grateful for my job - my job as CEO of this family. In 2004, I left my career as a middle school teacher to stay home with my newborn baby. I knew there was no way I could possibly teach full time, and yet I was fearful of how to make it work financially. And here we are, going on our 7th year, and we're doing it. We're making it happen, year after year, and our company seems to benefit immensely from it. For that I am grateful. And I'm also grateful for Jeff's job as a nurse. I'm prouder of him than ever because I think his job is so important. He's so good at it; he is a role model to our sons; he is a gender stereotype-breaker; and in his care for others, he provides his own family with so much more than just a paycheck. I am so grateful.

I'm grateful for my "silver and gold" friends - those I've known for years and years, and whose friendship sustains me - and the new friends I've made, the ones with whom our history is relatively short, yet already rich and full. I'm grateful for my mom and dad. Every day, I'm grateful for their proximity to us, for the relationship with our kids, for the fun we have together. I'm grateful for our collective family, for Jeff's people and my people. I'm grateful that Adam and Hugo and Julian made the long trek here to celebrate Thanksgiving this year. I'm really, really, super grateful for that.

And I'm grateful for you, reader. Whomever you are. I write this blog for myself, mostly, but I like knowing that someone somewhere might enjoy it too. I'm grateful for the feeling of connection I have with you when I write.

Our great President John F. Kennedy asserted, "As we express our gratitude, we must never forget that the highest appreciation is not to utter words, but to live by them." Indeed.

Run Like a Mother

2010-11-14T21:40:00.000-05:00

November 13, 2010 - 4:45 a.m. and heading to Richmond for the race!

I guess you could say I dabble in running. I started about 10 months ago - training first for a 10k in Richmond, followed by the 10 miler, and then a break for summer. In August, I signed up for my first half marathon and started training again...

Yesterday, I ran the 13.1 miles. My goal was to run it in about 2 hours 2 minutes or so. My official time was 1:57:50 - I ran sub-9 minute miles until the very end, when I sprinted across the finish line. Success!!

While I was training for this half marathon, I was trying to scope out some new running gear. I'd seen some pretty awesome slogans and various gizmos and contraptions on all the "real" runners in previous races, and I was in the market for some new stuff. My favorite slogans and sayings were those about mom runners, and one that really grabbed my attention was "Run like a Mother."

I wondered, do I run like a mother? (Am I certain that's even a compliment?) So I started to ponder it more deeply.....

Mothers are among the strongest people I know.... yeah, runners are pretty tough, too.

Mothers can evoke a certain fierceness about them, i.e. the "mama bear" instinct that comes out when we're guarding our beloved children. Runners are pretty fierce.

Most moms I know are determined, hard-working, goal-oriented. That sums up running quite nicely, too.

Being a mother is empowering. The best example, in my own experience, was giving birth to three amazing human beings. Running is empowering, too, with each mile reached and each goal achieved.

The best moms I know always allot themselves plenty of "Me" time. Running is my "me" time. I heard it described on NPR as "full body meditation," and indeed, that's what running has become to me - a time to reflect, contemplate, ponder, think deeply, and simultaneously rid myself of the stresses, frustrations, sadness, and anger I feel.

When I "hit the wall" that is infamous among runners, I call upon my reserves - those times when I've been a strong mama. I think about those times, visualize them, draw strength from what I have done powerfully and well in the past - all times when I've been a mama.

Moms want their kids to be proud of them. Running is one way I hope to make them proud.

Running is tough. Being a mom is the toughest job I'll ever know.

So..... Do I run like a mother?
You bet I do.

Recognizing the Meal

2010-11-08T13:56:00.001-05:00

Given the opportunity to speak and to be heard, children are amazing philosophers and thinkers. Their unique perspective on the world sometimes takes one's breath away with its accuracy, poignancy, and truthfulness. Their ability to see the world through an unclouded lens is refreshing. It is rewarding to hear or to see one of these rare glimpses into the deeper minds of children.

Pax has very few spoken or signed words right now. He says "Mama" and often waves to people. He imitates "Hi!" but only if he's in the mood. He'll sign "more," and that's a cute one - it's usually in the context of "more toys! More playing! More fun!" And he has one other sign that he uses mostly in the morning - "Eat, eat eat!" He gets excited to see his high chair and helps drag it into the kitchen; as I load him into it, he signs to me, Eat! Eat! Eat!

Last Sunday at church as I led our family up for communion, I was holding Pax on my hip while guiding Leo toward the altar with Aidan trailing behind me. All of a sudden, I felt Pax shift in my arms as if to get my attention. When I looked down at him, he was looking right at me and signing, Eat! Eat! Eat!

Pax, merely 13 months old, recognized the meal we were about to receive. He does not take communion, but in his sign, he was saying, "I recognize this! I know what we're doing! We are receiving a meal!" He continued to sign, over and over, eat eat eat until I whispered into his ear, "Yes, Pax. This is a meal. I am going to eat."

In its purest and most basic sense, I was fed and nourished - by the tiniest one at the table.

Boo!

2010-11-02T22:49:00.005-04:00

Halloween was, as usual, such fun. Aidan was a regal wizard, compliments of my mom's excellent seamstress skills. He cast (friendly) hexes on anyone who would stand still long enough to do so, and took his role as Wizard very seriously...

Leo went as Superwhy, from the cartoon on PBS. The best part of his costume, for me at least, was when he declared how much he loooooved wearing the green tights. (The tiny running shorts were a close second, though.... and Aidan had the same reaction to the tights when he wore them with his pumpkin costume 3 years ago!)

And Pax went as a Monster, because only monsters keep you up at night! I had a real moment of panic at about 3:30 on Halloween afternoon - I had put off finishing his costume because I wasn't exactly sure how to make him look monstrously cute. I started panicking, envisioning years of therapy with the claims, "Look at how I suffered as the third child! Look at this ridiculous, half-arsed costume! Oh, how they failed me!!!" But then, as these things usually go, Jeff and I were able to cobble together a pretty terrific looking monster - so terrific, in fact, that Pax seemed to revel in wearing the Monster hat, even though he typically resists having anything adorn his head.... (I have to say, I'm always kind of impressed with how well Jeff and I collaborate on these little projects. We are perfect complements to each other; I like to think that I'm the ying to his yang.)

...even if Pax's costume had turned out a disaster, at least he'll always be able to find comfort in the easy and relaxed parenting styles that comes with being the third. While comfortably strapped into the Radio Flyer red wagon, Pax happened upon a miniature Snickers bar that I felt certain would be impossible for him to unwrap and eat.... until I witnessed him smooshing and sucking every morsel of chocolate/caramel/peanut/nogut out of that tiny wrapper. Never in a million years would a Snickers bar have crossed the lips of 13 month old Aidan... and yet we saw it differently with Pax - he was happy and content to ride in the wagon... and who could blame him, after all? Snickers really satisfies.

Venn Diagram

2010-11-01T21:39:00.002-04:00

(<--Leo on Halloween.... He is dressed as Superwhy, a cartoon character who is a Super Reader.)

Oh, my Leo Leo. He is the middle of my Venn Diagram, the one around whom I am always drawing circles. In one sentence, he's a part of the "older boys" - as in, the older boys are building stuff with Jeff in the basement. The next minute, he's a younger boy - as in, the younger boys are having their naps right now. We call him "Middy" - a reference to his birth order position as well as possibly a position he'll play in lacrosse one day.... (after all, he's already got that great lacrosse player hair, not to mention the kick butt attitude that goes with it...)

His determination knows no bounds. (See video of 3 year, 10 month old Leo riding a two wheeler). This is both one of his greatest assets, and one of the most trying facets of his personality.

Recent favorite sayings of Leo:

"Becept." A combination of "because" and "except," and in context, is used as the latter.

"Will'nt" - possibly the best contraction ever developed. Far superior to its proper sister, "Won't..." In Leoease: "I will'nt go upstairs for my nap. I will'nt eat the rest of my apples."

And finally - out of the blue, Leo asked me with utter solemnity and due gravity - "Do you know why Thomas Jefferson is buried?"

Me - "Why?"

Leo - "Because he's DEAD." (a quiet pause, to let the news sink in with me.)

Pedal, Pedal!

2010-11-01T21:23:00.004-04:00

Leo - Age 3 Years, 10 Months

A Walk to Remember...

2010-10-23T20:03:00.003-04:00

Got milk?

2010-10-21T20:23:00.004-04:00

The Future of Fatherhood
(as envisioned by Leo Carter)