I am well protected from the monsters...

So, my very sweet, shy and cautious boy has never wanted to dress up for Halloween.  He doesn't want to go Trick or Treating, he's very skeptical of Halloween generally.  But two years ago (this would be 2014 now) he wanted to go to the Trunk or Treat festivities at church, but he didn't want to dress up.  So Chris and I packed up Cameron and Lilu and they had fun going from trunk to trunk, but they skipped the scary ones.

Then last year (2015) he asked me (about 2 weeks before Halloween), "Mommy, I think I want to dress up this year."  And I fought the urge to lay my head down and CRY.  Seriously?  I've had 7 years of EASY Halloweens, and this year, THIS year that Daddy is in med school and Mommy is drowning, THIS year is the year you want to dress up?!  But I was very grown up about it, I said, "Really?  What do you want to dress up as?"  And he thought for a moment and said, "Percy Jackson." 

We had read the Percy Jackson books for bed time reading the year that we studied Ancient History because he was completely obsessed with Greek Mythology, and he especially enjoyed the stories about Poseidon.  So I thought, "Well, it could have been worse."  So I started to think about what we could do for a costume that would require minimal creativity and monetary expense.  And because Lilu MUST do everything that Cameron does, it immediately escalated into "I want to be ANNABETH!"

After a few hours of searching on the internet, I came up with a plan that I liked well enough.  I ordered Camp Half-Blood t-shirts from Etsy, and I bought the stuff to make them bead necklaces.  Chris watched a tutorial on how to make a wooden sword and we got to work.  I painted the beads to match the descriptions in the books, and once Chris had shaped and sanded the swords down, I painted them in the garage (in the aptly named Antique Bronze).  When the day of the Halloween Carnival arrived, I thought they looked pretty awesome (for a totally apathetic mother)!

They look pretty happy, right?  Let me tell you, tooling around with two kids armed with wooden swords makes you feel pretty safe...

Look at how ferocious they are!  I can't imagine where they could have learned THAT. 



But this picture is probably my favorite.  It totally sums up this child's role in our family:

She makes us all laugh.  When we're stressed out and overwhelmed, when everyone is tired and fractious and impatient, Lilu pulls a mug like this or says something odd and goofy and gets us all laughing again.  She does her fair share of crazy-making, but she does MORE than her fair share of happy-making too.

Chris gets a New Coat

So at the start of every school year, the new crop of med students participates in what's known as a White Coat Ceremony.  They go up on a stage, group by group, and they are presented with their White Coat, the outward symbol that they're a med student.  It's a really cool ceremony, actually, because it celebrates their potential.  And it's a time for family and friends to gather and cheer on their med student.

So last year (that would be August 2014, if you're having trouble keeping up), Chris had read about it and thought it was the coolest thing ever.  So when he found out that he'd been accepted, he called his parents to invite them up and told them that this was a big deal and he would really appreciate it if they could be there.  As it turned out, his Mom was traveling that weekend and couldn't be there, and his Dad was non-committal.  So I braced him up as best I could and promised that the kids and I would be there with bells on to cheer him on.

So a week before the ceremony, his sister and I were texting back and forth and she asked when the ceremony was and for more information generally, so I gave it to her, but thought nothing else.  I just figured that she would call or text the day of, because she's very thoughtful that way.    A few days after this exchange (Wednesday before the ceremony to be precise) she called me and said that she and Dad (and maybe Chris's brothers) wanted to try to come up on Sunday, but wanted it kept as a surprise just in case they couldn't make it, so would I help them?  And I said, "Heck yeah, and nothing easier since Chris is never around!"  So we started plotting.

I planned a BIG family dinner for Sunday, to celebrate Christopher (of course), we made  a traditional NC barbecue and all the sides.  Chris said, "Isn't this kind of a lot of food?"  To which I replied, "It's a lot of people, and also shut up, it's delicious."  He had no argument for that.  I sent his sister details on when to show up and where to park and made sure that we would park in the same parking deck so that Chris could see his family BEFORE the ceremony.

So the day arrives and he and I are both a jumble of nerves, though for very different reasons.  We left Church a bit early so that we could make it to the ceremony on time.  At the last minute, Chris decided that we would drive together and then, THEN he tried to change where we were going to park.  And to that I refused in Diva like fashion.  He looked at me funny, but then headed for the parking deck.

As we drove up the road towards the deck, I looked up and saw his family (all but his Mom) standing on the second level watching for us and I pointed them out and said, "Who are those crazy people?"  He glanced up and said, "I don't know...WAIT!  WHAT?!"  And I started to laugh because the look on his face was PRICELESS and then he started to tear up and laugh all at the same time and he said, "Did you do this?!"  And I said, "Your sister and I make a MAD team!"  He was so touched that they drove all the way up here just to be with him to celebrate.

There were hugs all around and exclamations and lots of pounding on the backs and the kids were squealing with delight and jumping up and down because they got to see Paw-Paw AND Jenji AND Mike and Rusty AND Daddy all in the same wonderful day!  My father in law was thoroughly impressed with my secret keeping skills and Chris really was knocked off his feet.  I don't think I stopped grinning until we got our seats and got settled.

At which point Maggie decided that she had had ENOUGH.  Enough of dresses, enough being quiet, enough sitting still, enough not napping, enough enough ENOUGH.  So I took her out and tried to nurse her to quiet her down and tried to rock her and cuddle her, and she would calm down for a few minutes.  Long enough for us to go inside and see where they were in the program, and then it was more screaming and more out in the hallway.  I went back and forth with her until it was time for Chris's group to go up.

Then I handed her off to Mike and I took the big kids down to edge of the mezzanine to see their Daddy.  (Lilu had been crying for him basically since we sat down.  I think she thought he'd be sitting with us.)  So they saw him walk onto the stage and Lilu chirps up, "Hi Daddy!"  And I started to giggle because (of course) it echoed through the whole theater!  So then they call student by student and one of the faculty puts the coat on the student, and Chris was the second one, so they call his name and both kids shout "YAY DADDY!!"  And the whole theater erupts in cheers and applause, and that right there is where I lost it and started to cry and cry.

Because here's the thing.  Chris has wanted to be a doctor his whole life.  It's the only thing he's ever really wanted to do.  And not because he likes the lifestyle or wants to show off and drive a fancy car or anything, but because he likes to help people.  And when he didn't get in (years ago, when we were fresh out of undergrad), we talked about different career paths where he could still help people, but it just wasn't what he really wanted to do.  He tried different paths and different jobs, but he was never happy, and I think it was because he only ever wanted to be a doctor.  And here he was, getting his white coat at long last.  He had worked so hard and here was his dream of what he wanted to do and to be and he had made that happen.  I could not have been prouder of him than I was in that moment.

(Oh, and when I turned around to take the big kids back to their seats, Maggie was sound asleep on Uncle Mike's shoulder.  I should have handed her off an hour ago!)

So we sat through the rest of the ceremony, and then joined the masses to try to find Christopher.  We met up and went to shake hands with a few faculty members, and everywhere we went, Chris was greeted with cries of "YAY DADDY!"  by his classmates.  It was sweet and endearing and so many people told us what a great moment it was.  And it was a great moment, but for more reasons than just the kids.

We took some pictures (Jenn's turned out MUCH better than mine), and then headed back to the house where we were met by my parents and Sherry and Jeff and my nephew Joshua.  We ate and talked and laughed and had a wonderful time together.  And Chris looked at me and said, "This is why you made so much food!"  And I said, "Yes!"  He was still completely surprised and it was thoroughly fun to tell the story over and over and over again.

(BIG thanks to Jenn for taking such great pictures!)

Med School Begins

So August saw the start of Chris's med school adventure.

In short.  It sucked.

He was in class for nearly 8 hours every day, and he had signed up for the Spanish language program (extracurricular, mind you), so he would be gone for 3 days every week without seeing the kids AT ALL.  So my entire August experience can be summed up in 2 words only:  Meltdown City.

Think I'm exaggerating?  Being melodramatic?  Yeah, I took pictures...

It took me the better part of the month to figure out that the kids have only ever known Daddy on Demand--essentially, they got to have him whenever they wanted, as long as he wasn't working.  So the very act of going days and days and not seeing Daddy at all was like the end of the world as they knew it.

It was just a hard month.  But, as I tell my kids nearly every day, we can do hard things.  And we learned...we learned how to do school and work and take care of each other without Daddy.  Meanwhile his heart was breaking because he just wasn't physically able to do it ALL.

Suffice it to say, it was a miserable month, but we learned a lot.  So that was good!

My Mountains

Rather a possessive title, no?  I love mountains.  Give me mountains and you'll find me in a perfect state of happiness.  I love the jagged edges, the abrupt beginnings and endings, I love trees and rocks and rivers that run through them.  So when Chris suggested that we spend a week camping in the mountains (July 2015) I jumped at the chance.  I knew it would be tricky with the 3 kids, but even if you do nothing at all in the mountains, it's my happy place.

So we loaded up the kids and the dog and headed West.

Chris's Mom keeps a trailer over in the mountains west of Asheville, so that's where we stayed.  It was hot over there, but who cares?  You're in the mountains!  We settled in and the kids had to share a sleeping space, which they weren't wild about, and Chris and I shared our sleeping space with still, very wee Maggie.  It was cozy...or would have been if it hadn't been 90 degrees every single day.

Still we hiked, and may I just say?  Cameron blew me AWAY.  He was a champion.  He hiked the whole length of the upper and lower falls of the Yellowstone river, and didn't complain, not once.  I think he rather enjoyed himself because the trail offered lots of variation.  Sometimes it was an easy boardwalk, sometimes it was a smooth dirt path, and other times, it was a stone staircase carved into the mountain itself.  Lilu rode in the backpack with Chris, and Maggie was in the sling with me.

Highlight of the trip?  We got to the top and stopped to snack before heading back down the trail, and Maggie started to fuss, so I loosened the sling and latched her on and we continued hiking, Chris turned around and saw me and said, "We can stop!"  And I said, "Naw, I'm good, I'm a Mama and a canteen!  Life is good!"  Though, some of the other hikers looked at me a little strangely.  I just smiled and said, "I love my little ones!" 

Other highlight?  Chris NOT careening over the edge of the precipice with our middle child.  So we were headed down said trail (this was before the breastfeeding) and Chris stepped down wrong and his ankle turned, his knee buckled and Lilu is heavy enough that the forward momentum pushed them both down.  The edge of the trail was only 12 inches from the side of the mountain, so I immediately thought they were going right over the edge.  But he stopped them and then hobbled back down the trail on a completely sprained and quickly swelling ankle. 

Kids best highlight?  The s'mores in the rain!  We had promised them s'mores.  REAL s'mores, over a FIRE s'mores.  So even though it rained every night, Chris dutifully built a fire, with lovely oak wood, and we roasted marshmallow after marshmallow after marshmallow until the kids were so sticky that no amount of wiping would clean them EVER.  So we took them in the showers and hosed them off before putting them to bed.  That was really fun.

The Hero of the Day

We've been taking care of Hogan lately.  The kids really love him, and after such a long winter, they're happy to get outside and run around in the afternoons.  It's just me that's really tired.

We have access to the house via a garage door opener that I keep in my car.  Now, usually, when we go in the afternoon, I get the kids out of the car, lock the car (because I leave my wallet and cell phone in the car) and then put my keys in my pocket.  But last Thursday, for some reason, I set my keys down on the table, while I went to get some food for Hogan and tried to expedite the process so as not to give the kids a chance to trash Ned and Ginny's house.

Hogan was dancing and wanting to walk, so I grabbed his leash and shepherded everyone out through the garage, hitting the button on my way out.  Once the door was down, I patted down my pockets only to discover (to my HORROR) that my keys were NOT in my pockets. 

I ran (well, as best as a 9 months pregnant girl can run) to the car, hoping I had left them in the door (I've done that before).  But no keys, and all doors locked up tight. 

The kids were running around picking up sticks and rocks, meanwhile I was totally and completely FREAKING OUT. 

I stared at the house, almost certain that I had left my keys on the kitchen table, but wondering what on EARTH I was going to do, and how I would get them back.  Chris has a spare key, but Chris was at work and my phone (with his work number in it) was locked in my CAR.  We have a spare key for the car, but it was 5 miles east back in our house, and I had no house key to get IN to my house.  And so I stood for a moment utterly lost in panic.

Then I remembered something.

In less dignified moments, when Chris has found himself taking care of Hogan and locked out of the house, he has...per necessity, crawled into the house through the doggie door.  It's a tight squeeze, but he can manage it.

I am 9 months pregnant, I'm pretty sure I CAN'T manage it.

But I know a 6 year old boy who would fit just PERFECTLY.

So I called the kids back to me and herded everyone into the back yard (fortunately there's a gate), and talked the Boy through crawling through the doggie door and where to find my keys, and to please, please, please listen to Mommy and do exactly what I say to do.  The Boy tried to insist that he would NOT fit through the doggie door, so I told him that DADDY has crawled through the doggie door and Daddy is a lot bigger than You and so I assure you, YOU WILL FIT.

My sweet boy obediently hunkered down and crawled through the doggie door, walked over to the table, found my keys and brought them back to me.  I then opened the garage door and let him out and when I had hugged and kissed on him to within an inch of his life, we all went to walk Hogan. 

I declared him the Hero of the Day and promised to make him whatever he wanted for dinner that night.  This Boy, this boy who cracks me up and breaks my heart and saves the day asked for Macaroni and Cheese.  I teased and cajoled and begged him to let me add some chicken or some broccoli or some hot sauce, but No.  He wanted it PLAIN.

The sweet thing?  He held my hand through the whole walk and periodically stopped to wrap his arms around me and assure me that everything was ok. 

At least once I day, I wonder who is the teacher and who is the student in our household.  I feel fine teaching him grammar and reading and history and some days I feel fine teaching him math, but most days he's the one teaching me about life and love and how to take care of people and what to do when you accidentally lock yourself out of someone else's house.

Snow...week

Two winters in a row!  What will I do with myself? 

You all know how I love snow, and winter, and all things COLD.  And yet, I live in the South.  I live in the South because I love beyond all reason a deeply southern man.  A man who is so much a part of the south, he may as well be one of those ancient, gnarled old oak trees that are covered with Spanish moss.  So North Carolina is our compromise.  I couldn't live anywhere further south because I would melt in the heat, and he probably couldn't live anywhere further north because the frozen depths of winter would probably kill his soul.

So the last two winters where we've gotten actual SNOW have been positively delightful.  Of course, snow is a lot more fun when you aren't hugely pregnant, but who's complaining?  The kids had a BLAST, and the fact that Chris stayed home from work (there was a car skidded out and blocking the exit to our little neighborhood, so no one could get in or out) and played with them just made it all the better.

Get this...the three of them built their first ever snowman.  My 35 year old husband had never built a snowman before.  It might have been the sweetest thing I'd seen for quite some time.

 

We shall not discuss the laundry...

Back to the Beginning

Did you think I had forgotten about you?

No, no.  But I have been sulking.

I have not blogged about Christmas eve, or Christmas Day, or my Girl's 3rd birthday, or my own birthday, or this pregnancy, or Chris' birthday, or his interview at UNC's school of medicine, or anything that's been going on.  And I'll tell you why...

My boy, my first born, the child whom I love beyond all reason, hacked into my phone and RESTORED FACTORY SETTINGS.

Let's just let that sink in for a few moments.

Chris and I got new phones last JULY, and I had all of these wonderful pictures of my kids at my sister's house, and in our new house, or with Chris' parents and opening their Christmas presents and blowing out birthday candles and I had not backed ANY of them up ANYWHERE. 

(So yes, I totally deserved what I got.  Let this be a lesson to you, BACK your stuff UP.)

But it doesn't change the fact that I have been absolutely heartbroken at the loss.  I haven't taken a single picture since the Unfortunate Event occurred. 

My Boy was properly contrite and even cried himself to sleep that night because I was in tears myself, and he hates to see me cry.  But the whole thing has thrown me so far out of my own loop that trying to get back into the swing of things has been nearly impossible.

But I am resolved.

Before my third child is born this blog will be current.  It may not have fantastic wit or detail, but it will be CURRENT. 

Christmas Day

Ordinarily, I LOVE Christmas.  I love the lights, the carols, I love the food, I love my little family, I love the tree, I love trying to create this sense of wonder and magic for my kids.

That wonder and magic is a lot easier when you aren't on an Impossible Budget.  In years past, I generally start setting aside small amounts of money to fund Christmas in September, so that by December, we have a modest, but fun Christmas and I don't have to sweat my January bills, but this year...oh this year...It's been an expensive year.  What with buying a house, and Chris retaking the MCAT, and then med school applications and then secondary applications...it was just a really, REALLY expensive year.  So my Christmas budget was...well, non-existent.

And once you're sucked into that particular vortex of worry, it's pretty hard to feel excited about Christmas at all.

And the sad thing is, the money stuff wasn't the only vortex of worry that Chris and I had been sucked into.  We were worried about getting into med school and really worried about t'other Baby Girl.

(This pregnancy has been riddled with fear, anxiety and worry for me and for Chris.  All along it's felt too good to be true, and so we've both been waiting for the axe to drop, for something to happen to her or to me, which translates to a lot of worry and not much sleep.)

Anyway, so I was trying to cobble together a Christmas to the best of my abilities, without caring about it very much.  I was so tired that I just wanted to cancel the whole thing and crawl into bed and pull the covers over my head and come out when it was over.  But my sweet children woke me up every day asking, "How many days until Christmas, Mama?"  And their little faces were so full of excitement and wonder, how do you extinguish that with your own selfish desire to call off the whole affair?

I did my best, my parents gifted us with a new and PRE-LIT Christmas tree this year, so we set that up before we left for Savannah for Thanksgiving.  That way we could come home to something cheerful and beautiful.  I put together a frugal, but hopefully fun array of gifts for the kids.  My parents were a little unhinged playing Santa for the kids, and thoroughly enjoyed getting to see their faces as they came downstairs on Christmas morning.  I baked up some cinnamon rolls, and once the presents were opened and the kids were happily playing with their new toys, Chris and I crashed on the couch and totally fell asleep.

It really was a magical day, but I was still really happy when it was over.

What we did with our Summer Vacation

Hello.

Is anyone still out there? 

I know it's been quite some time since I updated, but I think when you read everything that's happened, you'll understand why the blog was relegated beyond the back burner, beyond the stove, and out to the deep freeze of things on my priority list.

As you know, our lease ended at the end of May.  We house-sat for some friends of ours for 2 weeks in their beautiful home, the kids had a BALL playing with their kids' toys.  After that, we stayed with my sister for a week and then out to my parent's house for 2 more weeks while they were out in Utah visiting my lovely sister.  I posted pictures of my kids strip mining my Mom's berry bushes and playing in the hose.

All the time we were house hunting.  Or rather, I was house hunting.  Chris has been studying to retake the MCAT.  He's taking it tomorrow afternoon and reapplying for med school.  We'll see if we go.  I'm cautiously optimistic.

So I was trying to find us a place to live.  It was pretty stressful.  Housing is fairly expensive in Durham, but I wanted to plan as though he was already in med school, so I didn't want to be too far away.  On July 1st we looked at 3 bedroom townhouse just down the street from our old apartment.  It's a small, quiet community and it had everything on our wishlist except a yard.  Which I was willing to sacrifice to stay in the same general area of town we had lived in before.  So on July 2nd we put in an offer.  There was some dickering back and forth, which I am NOT good at, nor patient with and hadn't anticipated being in charge of, but when I say Chris spent the summer studying for the MCAT, I mean he completely checked out of everything else (except work) and focused on relearning everything he used to know 7 years ago.  Anyway, on July 3rd we reached a deal and started the whole Mortgage nightmare.

I would just like to go on the record as saying that having a BABY is less painful than buying a HOUSE.  And the mortgage company we're using, they are charming and absolutely bent over backwards to help us and to make the process smooth, but it was still an arduous experience.

Luckily for me, I started working out seriously in April and kept it up until we moved, it was a fantastic stress relief.  I lost 25 pounds, y'all.  I was quite proud of myself, and then...

I spent 2 weeks gathering up 98 pieces of paper and delivering them to the mortgage company and writing checks.  Finally, FINALLY everything on our end was done.  Our closing date was set, my amazing sister, who let us live in her house rent free for the month of July, kept the kids so Chris and I could go sign a novella of papers and take possession of 6 keys and a garage door opener.

5 days before we closed, we found out that we were pregnant.  Crazy, huh? 

So we moved in on August 2nd.  Chris continued to study and I slowly unpacked.  The kids ran around the basement which is our school room/play room and rediscovered all of their toys declaring that they had MISSED them so much and everything, absolutely everything was their FAVORITE.  It was pretty funny.  I put my kitchen in order and went back to cooking fairly regularly.  The kids are in separate rooms, which is GREAT for me.  They're still having a hard time at night, I think because it's dark and the dark makes them nervous.  Chris' stuff is still in boxes, and the boxes are neatly stacked in the rooms they belong in.  He told me today that he would unpack next week, and I laughed and said I was willing to bet money that the boxes would still be there next summer.

The Boy and I started back to school this week and it's been a long week.  Our school day is much longer, and I'm not sure if it's just because we've added material or that we've been out of the routine all summer long.

But my favorite memories of this summer all involve watching my kids play in the Eno river and hike together.  The Boy was particularly amazing, even when he was tired, and the Girl was DONE, he would hug her and say, "Come on, Lilu, we can do hard things!  And we can play in the river when we're done!"  It was the sweetest thing.  And they both walked into that river up to their necks (fully clothed), and I'm sure that there are parents out there who would cry NEGLECT because I let them do it.  But childhood is hard enough without asking kids to pass by a river and a muddy bank on a hot summer's day.  We shall not discuss the Laundry.  Both kids fell in the Eno river multiple times this summer, it was both terrifying and comical.  And everyone is still alive.

My Boy shrieked with joy at the fireworks on the 4th of July, but my Girl hated them.  They're both still missing their cousins and periodically declare that they want to go back to Aunt Sherry's to live with their cousins.  But one morning this week, the Boy declared that the townhouse is "starting to feel more like home, Mama."

Which I'm taking as a good sign.

So what did you do on your Summer vacation?

The Boy's 6th Birthday

My Dear Boy,

Six years ago today, you made me a mother.  I thought in honor of that strange event, I would sit down to thank you for some of the things that you're teaching me.

Thank you for teaching me how to sit still and wait.  Wait for someone else  to learn, to grow, to wake up, to get stronger, to be kind, to listen, to discover the magic in the ordinary world around them.  Thank you for sharing that magic with me.  I know that sometimes I get impatient, but you're very good at reminding me to WAIT. 

Thank you for teaching me that sometimes the most loving thing that we can say to someone is No.  I have worried that so much of my life with you has been about saying No.  I worry that by setting boundaries, I am some how limiting your experience of the world, or worse, fencing you in where you can be safe, but never grow.  I'm starting to see that by saying No, what I'm really saying is "I love you enough to want you to grow up, but we are all growing this way and I'd love it if you come along."

Thank you for teaching me that there are times to hold on (and tightly) and times to let go.  I'm still learning this one, and I suspect that I'll be learning it until I die.  If I loved you less it would, perhaps, be easier.  It will be your turn to learn to sit still and wait while Mama tries to let go.

Thank you for teaching me to laugh at myself, to dance, to sing, to wander and to wonder at the world that I've been living in for a long time now.  Thank you for teaching me that sometimes (most of the time) the point is the Journey and not the Destination.  Thank you for teaching me that sometimes it's ok to eat popcorn for dinner and leave the house messy and just play.  Thank you for teaching me how to hug someone with all the love you feel for them.  

But most of all Thank you for showing me that Heavenly Father never, ever gives up on us.  No matter how selfish or arrogant or rigid we may be.  He knows who we are and what we're capable of and He keeps on trying to help us to see that long after everyone else has given up.  You taught me that, my Boy.  And every day with you is a powerful reminder that He loves us more than we love ourselves.  And sometimes He does that by saying No.

Happy Birthday, son.  You and your sister are my greatest adventures, my hardest work, my biggest worries, and my sweetest joys.

I love you always,

Mama

Summer

"While you were so busy whispering, we have concocted a plan!"
"It is the BEST plan in the world!"
"I shall convey you all to my house in Chelsea and we shall taste the delights of the season!"

Mrs. Jennings, Sense & Sensibility

 

For a little Boy, there are few pleasures in life sweeter than playing in the hose fully clothed.

My Girl has a more discerning palate, she prefers ripe berries warmed by the summer sun. 

After playing in the hose, that is.

My Boy and Shakespeare

Do you ever have those months that just completely ATE your whole life?  March pretty much did that to us.  I had a couple of intense freelance projects, and then we had a last minute family vacation and we were home for all of one day before I had to have minor surgery.  And then BOOM it was April.

The hard part, is that all of this "other" stuff happens and real life doesn't stop happening, so I end up feeling like I'm drowning.  But in the midst of drowning, some really cool things happen.

Like my Boy asking to memorize Shakespeare!

(That we home school, you already know.  That we do classical education, you already know.  That memorization and recitation is a part of most classical curricula you may not know.  But it is!  And it's wonderful.  I've NEVER understood why people have such antipathy for memorization and recitation.  It's entertaining and good for your brain.  Suck it up.)

So back in February, after my Boy had finished memorizing the 50 states and the Articles of Faith, I asked my Boy what he wanted to work on next.  I gave him a short list, we could do famous people through history, we could do states AND capitals, or we could do poetry.  Well, for him that was a no-brainer!  He chose poetry right out of the gate.  So I rattled off some poets we could concentrate on:  Robert Frost, W.B. Yeats, Shakespeare, Seamus Heany...and before I could get further he shouted "SHAKESPEARE!"  (He lives his life in all capital letters.)  So Shakespeare it is.

I sifted through my favorite plays and pulled my favorite monologues and then scaled them back to something I thought would be reasonable for a five year old.  In addition to working on phonics, math, and handwriting, we work on memorization.  In other words, we go through the selection together a few times every morning and after a week or so...well, you should see this to really enjoy it.






I know that I'm his mother and therefore totally biased, but how awesome is THAT?!

Snow Days

I took some pictures of what Snow Days look like when you home school.

The Girl has been sick all week, so she was stuck inside while Chris and the Boy went out to play.  And since she was so sad that she was missing out, her Daddy made it snow again, just for her.  (How's that for love?)

One of the nice things about the South is that snow is such an inconsistent occurance that when it happens, we really, REALLY love it.  Don't believe me?

Look at that face.  That is the joy of childhood right there.  He played until his hands were bright pink with the cold, he literally rolled and wallowed in the snow like a dog.  In fact, he did BETTER than the dog...

She just got a snowy face.  The Boy was snowy from head to toes!

Festive Decapitation

Over the years I have experimented with various Christmas cookies.  It's a fun tradition, but slightly dangerous as now we have accumulated so many favorite Christmas cookies** that I can only make each kind once. 

We started off the cookie season with my Grandma's Gingerbread.  I was using her cookie cutter with her recipe this year, and given that she's never going to make gingerbread again, it was a decidedly bittersweet selection.  But they're my Boy's favorites, so I sucked it up like the adult I am.

The Boy has taken cackling delight in decapitating each and every one.  In one bite.  And he's so pleased with himself that I can't help but laugh myself.


**We make gingerbread, lemon sugar cookies, cherry blossoms, and chocolate crinkles.  We also make English butter toffee, but we give most of it away.

Outside

I was doing my normal weekly clean-laundry-put-crap-away routine, when I noticed that the kids were both in their room. 

So I stood outside the shut door and listened.

I could hear them both playing (together!) and laughing (at the same time!) and having a great time in general.

I wanted so badly to go in and watch them, or even better, to be part of it.  But then I had this realization.



Inside that room is their own world.  It belongs to them.  And as the Mom, I don't have any part of it.  Outside of that room there are rules and routine and discipline and order and structure, and that's the world that I am a part of.  I knew that if I were to go in there, even just to watch them play, that the dynamic would change. 

I can't tell you how sad it made me.  I cried telling Chris about it later on.  I just wanted to see them having fun together.  But I made myself go back to work, back to making lunches and putting the apartment in order.  Because even though it made me sad, it's exactly what I wanted.  I wanted to be able to give my Boy a sibling to grow up with, to play with and love and be friends with.  And I can't help but feel that in order for that to really happen, I just have to get out of the way.

At least some of the time...

What happens...

We spent 4 out of 5 Saturdays in September running around, down to see my parents and Grandmother, or running errands etc.  So when I told the kids last week that we were spending a Saturday at home, in our pajamas and just relaxing, this is what happened...

We love our family, and I think it's good for the kids to see that Love means Sacrifice.  But it was really fun to just have a day to be home. 

Summer in Review

First, let's have a shout-out to my Mom.  It's her birthday today, so Happy Birthday, Mom!

We're still alive.  Here's a quick review of what we did on our Summer vacation:

• I finished the Red Sweater!  Pictures to follow.
• My sisters have been educating/scaring-the-living-daylights-out-of-me about Common Core.  Want to know what Public Education is teaching (or more accurately, NOT teaching) kids at a school near you?  Check this out!
• I got to see my friend Brett!  She was out here visiting her sister and the three of us had a really interesting conversation about books and why some people prefer Jane Austen, while others like the Brontes.  It go me thinking...
• And when I get thinking, I go back and RE read.  I didn't much care for the Brontes as an undergrad or a grad student.  And I haven't reread them since.  So I had Chris pick me up a cheap copy of Jane Eyre and I started rereading it, and holy cow, it's SO good.  I have to say, when you strip all the annoying and inaccurate criticism and pseudo-intellectual babble away from a text, it actually becomes quite enjoyable.
• I started sewing a dress for my Girl, but I still haven't finished it.  I was sucked into a vortex with the Red Sweater.
• I read and enjoyed Happy, Happy, Happy by Phil Robertson.  Go check it out!
• My Boy is awesome.  The swim lessons were BRILLIANT and easily the highlight of the summer.  In addition to getting to see my sweet niece once a week, my boy now just jumps into the pool without an hesitation or anxiety at all.  We took him to my sister's pool (and where we'll sign him up for more advanced lessons next year) and he jumped off the diving board!  MY BOY.  My nervous nelson of a boy jumped off the diving board!  More than ONCE!  It was 94 kinds of awesome.
• Chris took a whole week off of work and we were supposed to go to the mountains, but we ended up with some scheduling conflicts, and so we stayed home.  It was fun having him home all day every day, except that he really wasn't.  He's a newly minted member of the DRPC (it's a gun club) and he went shooting 3 out of 6 days with various people.  My bedroom is now filled with firearms that require cleaning and maintenance, but he had so much fun that I almost don't care.
• He did take me out on a sweet lunch date one day, and let me tell you, it was a beautiful thing.  I didn't have to cook or clean up.  My lunch companion used proper utensils and good table manners.  We had a quiet conversation about friends from Athens, the children, the firearms, and plans for Christmas.  It was a lovely, lovely treat.
• We had a family party to celebrate my 10 year Anniversary of being Back in the South.  Chris made pulled pork and macaroni and cheese, cole slaw and jalapeno poppers.  It was basically an excuse to get together and eat a lot of southern food.  My sister made me Pecan Tassies which are a highly addictive treat, that we usually only eat at Christmas time.
• My brother in law Jeff was laid off from his company in a conspiracy of corporate idiocy.  But then he got a new job at his old company working with much nicer people and for roughly the same amount of money.  We were sweating bullets there for a bit that they might have to move back to New Jersey, so now that they're firmly settled here in NC, we're all doing the happy dance.
• My nephew who's in school out west, is back for his "summer" break.  He goes to school January through July, and now he gets to be home through Christmas, and he's so funny and charming and my children absolutely adore him, which is also entertaining.
• There was also copious amounts of knitting, movie watching, cuddling, book reading, singing and attempting to balance two children in the same rocking chair, we did some finger painting which was fun until my Girl ate her finger paint and then there was the unfortunate technicolor vomit afterwards, we did swinging at the park and some dancing in the rain.  Don't believe me?

It was post-church and sometimes I can be a fun mom.

 This is just a gratuitous picture of my Girl, who has proven that she's not only tall enough to reach the counter, but smart enough to get what she wants when she wants it.

But she's also sweet enough to share.

Celebrating my Boy

There is no slideshow this year.


I thought long and hard about it.  I thought about music from this year.   I looked at the pictures.  And in the end I decided not to do it.  For many reasons,  partly because it just can't come close to conveying the exuberance of this past year with my Boy, and partly because he changes more gradually, but more suddenly.   So it's hard to see in pictures.  For example, my Boy is becoming brave.  He's never been brave before, but this past year has seen his courage blossom.  He's also reading everything in sight, and he reads it out loud and with FEELING.  It's the funniest thing you could possibly imagine.  But how do you capture that in a photograph?  Or even a video?  What I could show you would be merely an echo of what the experience of it is, and that makes me a little sad.

What I wish, is that I could wrap up and give away moments of time with this Boy, so that each of you could have your own personal experience of the joy that it is to live with him.

As usual, I have been thinking about the passage of time and feeling sort of melancholy about...oh, the fleeting nature of childhood, I suppose.  Just when I find myself really enjoying a stage, he's BANG! and on to the next.

We celebrated down at my parent's house and then the very next day we drove down to Savannah for a quick trip (which is why these are late going up).  The Boy, effectively, had TWO birthday celebrations, and they were both utterly delightful, if only because it makes me so happy to see how much everyone loves him.

 Double-fisting his desserts, ice cream cone AND cake.

He really is magical.  And I know, I know that ALL mothers think their children are special, and maybe that's all this is, but there really is something about my Boy. 

18 Months

My Girl is 18 months old.

And I find that with the approach of my Boy's 5th (FIFTH?!  How the heck did that happen?!) birthday, I feel a little nostalgic. 


Don't get me wrong, I love that she walks and dances and laughs and is hilarious in general.  It melts me like butter on a hot muffin that she cuddles me and pats my shoulder while saying, "Mama" over and over and over and over again.  Her temper is beyond exasperating, but given that I have that same temper myself, it helps me to be patient with her. 

And I'm not even sure that what I'm nostalgic for is HER as a little baby, so much as my Boy at 18 months old.

I was trying to explain this to Chris on Wednesday.  When we lived in GA and the Boy was 1-2 years old, he was my buddy, my constant companion, the center of my very small and lonely world.  We would pick up in an afternoon and go to Michaels or Target and just wander around and look at stuff and crack each other up.  We would cuddle and watch movies or read.  We were just always together, just the two of us, he and I.

And watching my Girl in her bath on Wednesday evening, I was reminded so forcefully of her brother at that same age, doing those same things that I felt this strange combination of longing for him at that time, and gratitude that I got to have all of those days with him.

This is a strange gig, Motherhood.  I'm wondering if I'll ever understand it, or if I'll just eventually give up trying and enjoy the ride.

(I took 47 pictures of her trying to capture the way she actually looks and of those 47 I got TWO where she was actually looking at me.  All of the rest she was wedging herself into that corner or blurry as she tried to run away.  Her loathing of the camera is STRONG.)

But her cuteness is stronger.

Expecto Patronum

The Boy and I have been slowly wending our way through the Harry Potter series.  Chris and I have both loved the books (and the movies), and the Cousins (my nieces and nephews) all love the series as well, so my kids are surrounded with phrases like muggle, wizard, quidditch, hallows, hogwarts, patronus, Dumbledor, and animagus.  (The sad thing is, Chris and I are also great fans of Tolkien so the list of strange words our kids are exposed to, is rather more extensive than this list.)  We're currently in the first quarter of book 5 (Order of the Phoenix) and it's slow going (book 5 is my least favorite).  But we had read another chapter, and since we were all sick for so long, I let my Boy watch Order of the Phoenix one long, rainy afternoon.

It's spawned an on-going conversation in our household that runs something like this:

Boy:  Hey, Mama!  What's my patronus look like?
Mama:  Hmmm, that's a good question.  I bet your patronus is a rabbit, because you're a lot like a rabbit sometimes.
Boy:  Yes, and I LOVE rabbits!  (hops away like a rabbit)
Mama:  (wishes he would eat vegetables like a rabbit, but that's another story).

Yesterday in the car, the conversation went a little like this:

Boy:  Hey, Daddy!  What's Mama's patronus look like?
Daddy:  Hmmm, that's a hard one.  Because your Mama always wishes she could wrap people up and put them in her pocket, so I bet your Mama's patronus is a kangaroo!
Boy:  (laughs hysterically) Mama!  Your patronus is a KANGAROO!
Mama: (also laughing) Actually, that sounds about right.
Boy:  Hey, Mama!  What's Daddy's patronus look like?
Daddy:  Hmmm, what animal is grouchy and tries to scare people off by being grumpy...
Mama:  A SKUNK!
Boy (laughing hysterically)
Girl (also laughing hysterically)
Daddy:  Actually, that's plausible.
Mama:  I know.