I Just Want to Testify

With some gentle prodding from my friend Ellen, I have decided to post today. I had already planned to anyway, but Ellen's subtle reminder ("UPDATE!!!") helped me get on the ball. Well, Ellen, the post you're about to get may be more than you bargained for.

It has been an interesting two weeks. Three? Whatever.

It all began a few months ago at our Christmas Concert Planning Committee meeting. I attend a pretty large church (not one of those multiple-thousand-members mega churches, but over 1000--large enough to be one of the largest churches in the area), and for a few years, they've been asking me to be a part of this 12-person committee, which was organized to plan what is our largest outreach event of the year. I have no idea why I was asked in the first place, but I've always suspected it was for comic relief; I seldom have anything to add except a snarky comment or a joke. At any rate, they keep asking me to come, so either I'm pretty funny, or I have more to add than I thought.

This year, they asked me to be a part of the writing sub-committee. Generally speaking, we as a church do not do purchased cantatas or programs, so every year's script is an original, and always written by a member of our church body. I was fully expecting that I'd serve in an advisory capacity on this one, it being my first year on the sub-committee, but imagine my surprise when I learned that I'd been nominated to write the whole shebang by myself.

Gulp.

I like to write--love it, in fact--but this seemed a bit huge. What business did I have writing the drama script for this annual concert, which is always amazing and profound and impactful? Snarky jokes do not an outreach make, nor do stories of my children's potty songs or recipes. But I had been asked, and I couldn't say no. Besides, we already had the whole layout of the concert in place, and the general idea for the drama was there, so how hard could it be?

So right away, I sat down with the music for the concert and highlighted the inspirational keywords. I identified the themes in each section to determine what I needed to cover in each drama break. I listened to the songs over and over, having myself a merry little Christmas in September.

And when I really needed to get down to business and start writing, I . . . checked out every commentary on Matthew and Luke and took as many historical and theological notes as I could. I filled pages and pages.

And when I really, really needed to get down to business and start writing, already, I . . . checked out some more commentaries and Bible dictionaries and concordances and took some more notes. Because as long as I was adding to my research, I didn't have to face the fact that at some point, the studying needed to stop, and the actual composition needed to begin.

I encountered two problems, though: 1) I was still thoroughly convinced that I didn't have the talent or the wisdom to write something that would be interesting AND lead people to Jesus, and 2) My kids would not nap, so I had no time to just sit down and write. To be honest, my heart has been heavy these past few weeks, and I've felt absolutely weighed down by this responsibility. Afraid of it, in a way. And every time I thought about writing this drama, I cried--I felt sort of worthless, useless. Scared. And my deadline, October 15th, was looming large.

I didn't think about Satan's influence until I was approached by a wonderful woman at our church named Joni. She helps lead the kids' choir, and has written the Christmas Concert in the past, and is also a part of the sub-committee. She shared with me that she had realized that Satan will do his best to thwart the things you're doing for God, and said that she had experienced that firsthand while she was writing the script a few years ago. "So I'm going to be praying for you as you write, that Satan wouldn't be able to touch you!" I should have known that my fear was founded in Satan's lies; 2 Timothy 1:7 says, "For God did not give us a spirit of timidity, but a spirit of power, of love and of self-discipline." Of course my fear wasn't from God, so it could only have come from one other place.

I'd like to report that Satan was bound and that things got better right away, but that wouldn't be accurate. In fact, after that moment, I became acutely aware of Satan's power, and I was dismayed that, even though my confidence was ebbing back (due in part to a very timely blog post by Beth Moore), Satan still had a very powerful tool at his disposal; I'm sorry to have to tell you that it was my kids. All of a sudden, when it was crunch time, the time I so desperately needed them to take nice, long naps so I could focus on the Word of God and write the Good News, they wouldn't sleep a lick. Another writing friend and sub-committee member, Debbie, told me she would pray specifically that my children would take naps. I wanted to call her and tell her she wasn't praying hard enough. I actually had a veritable army praying for me--Mia, the Worship Coordinator, Mark, the Vocal Music director, and Jon, the Woship Leader. Then there was my choir Care Group. And my Sunday School class. And throngs of friends and family, all praying. It should all have gone smoothly, right?

This past Monday was the breaking point: the kids took only 30 minutes of a nap in the morning, due to the fact that Charis had never actually fallen asleep and wasn't about to let her brother rest, either. The kids got up, and I took them onto the addition to run around, where I promptly stepped on a rusty nail that went through my foot. I obsessed about the possibility of lockjaw for hours, until it was time to try another nap for the kids. Surely, they'll sleep--they're exhausted! I reasoned. Wrong again. Judah screamed and screamed, and Charis just sang and played with the curtains. I tried in vain to write while sitting on the stairs and periodically telling them to be quiet and rest. I was not successful in the least. It was while I was rocking Judah in an attempt to calm him several long minutes later that I had a breakthrough. I was rocking and praying, rocking and crying, and praying some more, when all of a sudden, God gave me these words:

Come, I'll show you.

I cannot tell you what an incredible moment this was: in that instant, not only did I have the assurance that God was literally telling me that he was about to show me what to write, I had the complete idea for how I was to write it. I knew exactly what my main character had to do and say. God is a wonderful multi-tasker with the best grasp on language: only He could take three words and a contraction and make it into a complete drama.

I still faced the hurdle of Time: Abe had softball that night, which meant more kid-filled hours, and they never did take that nap in the afternoon. So even though I knew what I was supposed to write, I didn't have the time to do it. And then God gave me a 5-gallon bucket and a hose. I filled the bucket with water and lugged it back to the sandbox, where the kids entertained themselves for 40 minutes and I was able to make some decent headway on my writing. Thank you, God, for that bucket.

That night, after a very encouraging conversation with Debbie after the kids had gone to sleep (finally!), I sat down to write. Words poured out of me, and I don't think I have to tell you that I had very little to do with them: it was all God. I wrote until 12:30 that night, accomplishing nearly half of the script. Praise the Lord!

The next day, I was as desperate for the kids to take a good nap as ever: I was in a groove and wanted to keep writing before I lost it. On Sunday night, I'd casually mentioned to Abe that we never had problems with nap time when Charis was still using a pacifier. Sadly, her paci days were over, and we'd tossed all of them. I thought about going and buying some new ones, just so I could write, but couldn't bring myself to do so. But that morning, the kids were snooping around in a bathroom cupboard, and while rooting through our travel toiletries kit, Charis found a necklace I'd been looking for. There's another necklace I'm missing, so I pulled out the kit to see if it, too, was hiding there. It wasn't, but there staring me in the face was the answer to a prayer I hadn't even thought about praying: a pacifier. A pacifier God had hidden from me so that I wouldn't toss it with the others months ago, hidden until the very moment that I needed it. God is a God of details. He is a God of promises. He is a God of pacifiers. Thank you, God, for pacifiers!

Minutes later, the kids were sound asleep. I was able to continue writing, and pounded out one more Act before I had to head off to be a substitute volleyball coach.

The next day, Abe's mom took the kids for the day, and I was able to finish the script. It was finished, and it was awesome.

Before you think I'm full of myself, let me clarify: it was only awesome because I really couldn't see much of myself in it: I had nothing until God showed me what to write. In fact, some parts I don't even recollect writing. God provided everything I needed to write that script--a bucket, a paci, even the words. I'm sure there will be edits to be made, things that I didn't, through my own humanity, get just right, but I'm confident that God will be glorified through this script, and through the music it accompanies. Praise the Lord!

Mia sent me Psalm 3 this morning, and just look how well it fits!

O LORD, how my adversaries have increased!
Many are rising up against me.
Many are saying of my soul,
"There is no deliverance for him in God." Selah.
But You, O LORD, are a shield about me,
My glory, and the One who lifts my head.
I was crying to the LORD with my voice,
And He answered me from His holy mountain. Selah.
I lay down and slept;
I awoke, for the LORD sustains me.
I will not be afraid of ten thousands of people
Who have set themselves against me round about.
Arise, O LORD; save me, O my God!
For You have smitten all my enemies on the cheek;
You have shattered the teeth of the wicked.
Salvation belongs to the LORD;
Your blessing be upon Your people!

Going Ape

When Charis was tiny, still eating foods that were pureed or mashed, her go-to food was bananas. I knew that if I absolutely needed her to eat, I could get a banana and a fork to mash it with, shovel the grey ooze into her mouth, and she'd be content. In later months, when she didn't need things mashed so thoroughly, Charis could plow through an entire banana in a matter of minutes. She loved them.

Naturally, I kept bananas on hand all the time, and when Judah came around, I found myself making trips to the store mid-week just to replenish our dwindled banana supply. He was almost--but not quite--as enamored of them as Charis had been. Plus, Abe had begun eating them for breakfast. Our compost heap was mostly made up of banana peels.

Then, inexplicably, the obsession stopped. I started having to stockpile overly-ripe bananas in the freezer for use in banana bread or banana pancakes. (I still have a fair amount available, if anyone out there needs a good loaf of banana bread.) Then I stopped buying them altogether--I figured, if we're not going to eat them, I'm not going to buy them.

So it has been a while since we've had a 'nana in the house. But this week, bananas were on sale--.29/lb! I figured I'd get some and just see how they went over. I mean, bananas are the perfect food, right? I'd be a fool not to supply my family with that kind of nutrition.

The craziness started last night, when, at 8 pm, Charis declared her tummy "not full enough" and begged--begged!--for a banana. Abe told her they were too green and that she'd have to wait for tomorrow. So this morning, Charis was more than ready for a banana treat, despite the fact that she'd already had half of a honeycrisp apple and half of a carambola. If you had been here, you would have thought I gave them pure sugar to eat.

Here's Judah, mouth full, banana in hand, banana peels nearby, doing his best monkey impression. And yes, he did get stung underneath his eye AGAIN last night. Seriously. I couldn't believe it when Abe told me. Do we need to get some sort of pith helmet/mosquito net apparatus for him???

And here's lovely Charis, striking a pose with her cheek stuffed full of banana. She's cute even when she's cramming food down her gullet.

So...I guess we're back on bananas.

And the Hits Just Keep On Coming!

What is it with mosquitoes and my son?

You may recall that last week, Judah had a bonafide shiner as a result of a bug bite. The day after the first biting offense, he was bitten again in exactly the same spot.

Insult, here's some injury for you: last night, while we were playing in the sandbox, I noticed a mosquito sitting in EXACTLY that same spot on Judah's face--right by his eyeball. I brushed it away, but it was too late, because the damage was already done: yet another bite, yet another shiner. But this one has swelled so much that I think his vision is slightly obstructed. Seriously--short of rubbing bug spray directly into his eyes, I'm not sure what I can do to prevent the mosquitoes from snacking on my child.

On a slightly related note, this isn't the first time Judah has had lumpy eyes. Judah was born with two plugged tear ducts. We thought it looked a little funny the day he was born, but who wants to admit their child looks strange when they've only just met him? (This isn't the best picture, because it was his left duct that was the most plugged and, consequently, the most misshapen, but just note that his nose is not in the way of your seeing his left eye. It's the lump.) But the day after, when we asked the doctor about it, she confirmed the plugged duct theory. Apparently, it is quite common for this to happen, but Judah's case was a bit more severe--he actually had a little lump next to his eye, which is not normal. Our pediatrician referred us to an Ophthalmologist, who looked at it for about 10 seconds before referring us to an ocular plastic surgeon. He said that it was a plugged duct the likes of which he sees perhaps once every ten years. In a normal case, the doctor could probe (or lance, I guess)the plug, thereby freeing it--a simple procedure done in the office--but this lump was not normal. My fear was realized when the surgeon we had been referred to told us we'd have to operate. He immediately set up a date for my precious little boy to go under the knife--almost exactly three months after he was born. He'd respond better to the general anesthesia when he had a little more weight on him, they said.

In the meantime, they gave us some eye ointment to stave off infection, told us to wipe the ever-present goop from his eyes regularly, to use a damp cloth to ease off the crust when he woke in the morning, and to rub it. Rub the lump. Massage Judah's eyeball, in effect.

Like any mother would be, I was thorough and disciplined in what treatment I could give. I wiped goop with the best of 'em. I rubbed that kid's eye until I thought I might press it permanently into his skull. I knew that if this lump persisted into his adolescence and adulthood, we'd have some issues to help him work through, but we'd love him just the same. And even though his face was shaped a little funny, I still thought he was absolutely beautiful.

Then, one morning, it all changed.

Judah was up before Charis, as usual. I dampened a washcloth with warm water for my morning ritual of wiping and massage, but when I began to rub, I noticed that it felt different than normal. Something was different.

The lump was gone.

I looked and looked to make sure my eyes weren't deceiving me, but it was true: the plug had apparently passed. And for the first time, I was looking at Judah and knowing what he looked like--for real. I would have loved the lumpy Judah every stitch as much had he remained lumpy, but seeing him lump-free took my breath away. He was the most beautiful little boy I had ever seen, more beautiful than I imagined he could be. Of course, I called Abe and all the grandmas and aunties and uncles to tell them the news. Here's a picture taken the day the lump went away:

What a stud.

Of course, now the mosquitoes have taken to munching on him, so we're back to lumpy Judah. But he's still the most beautiful little boy I have ever seen.

She Even Takes Out Her Own Trash

I read this entry on Beth Moore's blog today, and thought I'd pass it on.

County Fair 2007

Last Friday, we went to the fair. In the past, we've headed out to our favorite fair after Abe has gotten home from work. This usually results in a very short evening and very cranky children. This year, we used the good sense God gave us, and Abe left work at noon so we could head out earlier. This minor adjustment made all the difference in the world. We didn't take the kids with us to the fair we went to last Friday, so this was their first this year. It was also the first year the kids were able to ride any rides. Combine that with the amount of time we spent in the animal barns and climbing on tractors, and this outing turned out to be a big success.



Here's a photo of Charis hiding from the magic show. Except at the time, it seemed more like some sort of stakeout or imminent Old West showdown. "You want to pull a foam ball out of my ear? I don't think so, pardner."

Likewise, here's Judah doing his best glare. Poor kid. When this picture was taken, his big sister was riding in a very fun fire engine ride. And he wasn't allowed on, on account of the fact he's so little. In fact, he spent a good portion of the day at the fair watching his sister ride things, like...

...the old-timey cars, which she drove while her friend Emily went for a ride. Two blondes in a car together? It's a good thing the car was on a track and required no actual driving on Charis' part. That could have been a disaster.

...the swings, which looked a lot more fun than they actually were. She liked it for the first 30 seconds, after which, every time she circled around, she'd say, "I'm done!" And it only cost us two dollars to let Charis ride this ride for a minute and a half. That's not a ripoff at all, I think we can all agree.
...and the pedal tractors. Which also looked like more fun than they actually were, since these mini-tractors had the turning radius of a mini-tank. Turning 90 degrees required a six-point turn, so mostly, we pushed the kids around and just lifted the thing when we needed to turn. needless to say, we will not be purchasing one of these any time soon. Here are the things Judah actually did get to ride:


...his stroller. Doesn't he look happy about that?


...big tractors. He really liked these. When we'd pass the tractor section, he'd invariably point toward them, purse his lips, and...


...make a noise that sounded something like "rmbrmbrmbmrbmrmbmrmb", which is, of course, his version of the sound a tractor makes. You know I couldn't resist putting this photo in, even though I know some of you will think his hair has a distinct Farrah Fawcett-like quality to it.

And finally, here's a shot of Judah inspecting a pumpkin. I was trying to get a cute shot of him while he was playing near a hay/mums/pumpkin display, and he's so cute, he actually drew a crowd. No, really. A crowd. I tried to get a photo of Charis, too, but she's 3 years old and is therefore in perpetual motion. All-but-gone are the days of cute closeups of her--she simply can't stand still long enough.

So there. County Fair 2007 is in the books. Did the kids consume too much cotton candy, pop, and grease? Almost certainly. Were they still whiney and out too late? You know it. Did they collect enough dirt and dust on their bodies to require sandblasting? Almost. But isn't that what the Fair is all about?

House Project Update

Well, reader (Mom). I have been meaning to post this update for quite some time now, but for some reason, I am suffering from a very serious gumption shortage, and it has seemed too time-consuming and brain-straining. So instead, I've been reading other people's blogs and watching Dora the Explorer.

But I've finally realized that this sucker a) isn't going to write itself, and b) isn't going to be any shorter the longer I delay. So here we go.

One nice addition to our addition is windows and a door. It's still not airtight, since the soffit (???) area is still wide open, as is my kitchen ceiling. As a related side note, it has been a terrible year for flies and fruit flies in our house. Yuck. You can see we're still waiting to install the window upstairs in Judah's room--it was left open to facilitate removal of demolition stuff, but now that the demolition is done, it can be installed any day. I don't know if I mentioned this before, but there's a skylight in the downstairs bath, so no windows on the sides of the house for that one, just in the roof.

Here's the big window at the back of the kitchen addition. It's a really nice one that Abe was able to pick up at an auction for a fraction of what it would have cost retail.

Here's a view from the south side of the house. It has also had windows installed: the horizontal window is in the future laundry/mud room. The large vertical window, which was actually a sliding glass door in its former life, was re-framed by our contractor friend and hung as a permanent window in the basement stairwell. I am really excited about the amount of light it lets into the area--you really can't tell there's any window there at all.

Here's Tim installing the laundry/mud room window. It's another nice one that we would not have been able to afford were it not for a business liquidation auction. Incidentally, at that same auction, Abe picked up some amazing real maple and birch hardwood flooring (which retails for about $7/sq. ft.) for $1.20 a square foot. It is better flooring than I even dared hope for. We've got miles to go before we can install it, but it's probably my favorite thing about the addition.


...unless, of course, we're talking about the upstairs bedroom. Sadly, I do not have a before picture of Judah's bedroom before we ripped it apart. In fact, here's a shot of Charis flexing her demo muscles. The room was green, orange, and deep blue with a (vague) traffic theme. It was cute. But the windows were oooolllllldddd and drafty, and the ceilings were really low with that horrible popcorn stuff on it. It needed to go.

So it did. Here's a shot taken from the same spot as the above picture. See? No wall. Judah's room (more specifically, the room that will be shared by whatever gender children we have the most of) will double in size, and it will get two new, huge beautiful windows and a skylight. We have sacrificially adopted the smallest bedroom in the house as our own, but in another universe where we didn't have young kids, this would for sure be our master bedroom. It actually has two levels to it: the upper level (which is only one step higher than the lower) will be carpeted and be the "bedroom" area. The lower level will get more of that fabulous hardwood flooring Abe was fortunate enough to procure, and it will be the "playroom" area. At least that's the current plan.

This is the view from the addition of Judah's room into the old part. Only one wall of drywall stayed, and we have yet to install the new window to replace the old one you see. Also, there's no skylight yet--it is waiting for some roof repairs Abe needs to make first. We've learned something about old houses--namely, they used what they had available and cheap when they built them. So in gutting rooms, we've seen a lot of questionable construction with very sub-standard lumber. The roof in Judah's room needs to be repaired because the rafters holding it up were recycled from a much shorter roof and sistered with additional lumber to make them long enough. It's a recipe for disaster, or, as Abe put it last night, "The bane of my existence."

Here's a cathedral-ceiling shot showing the new rafters with metal cathedral supports next to the old rafters with not much support at all. Those cross beams will be removed, and the old roof will also get those nifty metal support doohickeys. Then, the whole ceiling will be cathedral, which will make the room seem larger than it really is. I am prepared to be completely jealous.

In other house update news, Abe also got the old shower and wall ripped out in the basement and the new steel support beam put in so, you know, the house doesn't collapse. Unfortunately, I don't have any pictures of any of that. But since those things are done, we're now about ready to pour the basement floor concrete, which will be nice. Maybe then, they can build the basement stairs so I can actually get down to the basement without using a ladder. Sweet!

Well, if you made it this far, thanks for reading! I will continue to update you on our progress (whether you like it or not!).

Charis Sings the Classics

Today, it was her special rendition of "Are You Sleeping?" It went something like this:

Are you sleeping
Are you sleeping
On the john?
On the john?
I am very sleepy
I am very sleepy
On the john
On the john

I think she's a gifted lyricist.

Here I Am!

Sorry it has been so long. I have been feeling overwhelmed by the amount of information I need to cover, and that has been the driving force behind my procrastination. I have no other good reason, unfortunately.

So in this post, I'll try to chip away at the What's Going On With The Kids side of the story.
And, you know, try as I might, I can't jump into that without mentioning our construction project (which will be fully updated in my next post), but here's all I'll say about that right now: We've gutted Judah's room (and by We, I mean Abe and Tim). Do you know what that means? It means Judah can't sleep in there any more until it's done (three months? six months? a year?), so we've moved his crib into Charis' room. They share a room now. Which also means that they share a sleep cycle at night, and must be separated for naps during the day--which in turn means that Charis is napping in our room, which means I have been getting exactly nothing done, since I'm trying to be quiet and not wake her. Whew. I wasn't sure I'd get that out.

Yes. I've been dreading this sharing-a-room thing for a while, so I'm afraid I haven't been very encouraging of Abe and his progress ("How about windows and doors? Can you do those first? Pour the basement floor? How about that?") in an attempt to postpone the inevitable. But there was only so much Abe could do to put it off, and finally, last Wednesday, it was Time. While the kids and I were at church, Abe moved the rest of the stuff out of Judah's room, including Judah's crib, and he removed the carpet and most of the trim. So we had to leap.

The bedtime routine went remarkably well, better than we had imagined; the kids chatted a little bit, but nothing too raucous, and they were asleep in no time. Huh! All that worry for nothing! we said. This will be a breeze!

Round about 2 am, when Judah woke up for no apparent reason, we weren't so giddy. Ditto that for 3 am. And at 4:15, when Charis turned on the hallway light and started to come downstairs, we weren't even cracking a smile. I took her back to her bed, tucked her in, and went back downstairs. But maybe I shouldn't have been surprised when, at 4:30, Charis turned on the hall light and began calling for me.

"This is going very well. I don't know what we were worried about," Abe moaned.

I raced upstairs, hoping to at least preserve Judah's slumber (since the rest of us were wide awake), and brought Charis in bed with us. She tossed and turned and talked and kept us awake until Abe's alarm went off. Then she promptly went to sleep.

On account of their bad night of sleep, the children slept until 10 am, and needless to say, naps that day were a breeze--for all of us. But you can imagine the dread I felt when bedtime approached the next night.

It was dread well felt: Judah was still up twice. And Charis came to sleep with us again, but not until 5:30.

"Maybe this will just take a couple of weeks for them to get used to," Abe suggested. I shot him my best withering look, which, considering my fatigue, may have looked a lot like drowsiness or a drooping eye.

But Ford was in his flivver and all was right with the world the next night--both children slept all the way through. No one cried. No one drooled on my pillow. And, while they have been getting up earlier than usual, Charis and Judah have settled well into this new arrangement, even better than we had hoped.

Okay, so nap time is still a little rough. Yesterday, out of boredom, Charis dumped a fragrant sachet of lavender and rice onto my bed and the floor. When I went to get her up from her nap, I found her lying prostrate on the floor outside my bedroom, her torso and head covered with her Blue Blanket like she was an ostrich hiding in the sand. Presumably, she found it uncomfortable sleeping on a couple hundred grains of rice. Princess? Perhaps.


















In other news, we've got another shiner in our house. This time, it's on Judah. And, like Charis' black eye, his was bug-related. Why must bugs munch on my children's faces? Judah got bitten or stung by something about half an inch from his right eye, and it turned black and blue more or less immediately. To add insult to injury, while we were outside dismantling scaffolding yesterday, Judah got stung again in exactly the same place. What are the odds of that? Poor kid.

Well, there's more to say, but as you're probably already bored to tears (if, indeed, you made it this far.), the rest will wait for another post. I'm off to take the kids for the walk I promised them. Have a great day!

My Little Geniuses

After my shower today, I popped downstairs to throw a load of towels in the washer, leaving the kids upstairs by themselves. Abe beeped me on the phone, and we talked for a few minutes before I realized that things were abnormally quiet upstairs, which is almost always a bad sign. So I called upstairs, "What are you guys doing?" To which Charis replied, "Just reading books." Yeah, right, I thought. So I went up to check on them myself.

And guess what they were doing? They were reading books. They really were. Sitting quietly in Judah's room, with no TV or toys out, on the floor, reading books. They weren't fighting or playing with soap and water in the bathroom. No one was climbing on the furniture or decorating the stairway with toilet paper. They were just reading.

You don't see that everyday.

See You in the Funny Papers

My kids bring me such joy. They're constantly doing humorously memorable things, like this:

Yes, that is a potty seat. It would be nice if she would use it for something other than a hat.

And here's Judah, spying on the neighbors...

...and getting up-close-and-personal with the camera. Pardon the crusties in his cute little nose.
But very often, they do things that can't be captured with a camera. Yesterday, we were in the car on our way to the beach, and we passed a McDonald's. Charis piped up. "Can we get nuggets?"

"No."

"Can we get nuggets?"

"No."

"Canwegetnuggetsdon'tsayno?"

She had spent the night at Yia Yia's house, a rare treat. I suspect she enjoyed herself, even if it was because she got an excellent breakfast: Charis was the first to wake up, and prowled around the house to see if anyone else was awake. Finding no one, she helped herself to a big bag of marshmallows. Shortly thereafter, Yia Yia came downstairs. "I did not know where you were!" Charis said.

"I was sleeping upstairs," said Yia Yia. "What do you have there?"

"I have marshmallows." Charis sighed. "I had a few."

At least she tells the truth...

Somebody Call Rick Reilly

The longer I am married to my dear husband, the more I am exposed to countryboy--shall we say "rural"?--experiences I never thought I'd a) have, or b) enjoy, experiences which, in the end, I wind up loving, despite my urban background. On this list, we already have Mudding, Skeet Shooting, and Cow-Chasing. But those are topics for another post.

Yesterday, I added Enduro Racing to the list.

For those of you who don't know what that is (and 24 hours ago, I was one of those people), Enduro Racing is an everyman's NASCAR. Here's how it works: 150+ cars, mostly 4-cylinder beaters whose engines have been fixed to run well, all start the race at the same time, running 3 or 4 abreast on the track. The track we went to is known as the "fastest 3/8 mile track in the WORLD." To figure out just how much carnage that leads to, do the math--150+ cars running a 200-lap race on a track that is less than 1/2 mile long, or, to be precise, 1980 feet long. Cozy. Add to that the fact that, when a car is disabled, either as a result of a wreck or engine failure, or, as we saw, flipping over or losing a wheel, the race pauses for the driver of the disabled car to leave the track, then the race continues, with the damaged car remaining in the spot where it died. To put this into perspective for you, by the end of the race, there were approximately 40 cars in various states of disrepair littering the 3/8 mile track. The winner is the driver who successfully dodges these obstacles and completes the 200 laps first. In the race we watched, very few drivers completed all 200 laps.

Well, that's all well and good, but for me, the real beauty of the race lies in its participants and their vehicles. All the paint jobs were homegrown, the fenders crunched from previous races, the numbers mostly free-painted, and many of them had ephemera bolted to their roofs: Pizza Delivery signs, stuffed animals, rocking horses, Homer Simpson. Some had names, words, or phrases painted on them and they ranged from the poignant (In Honor of Jordan 7/17/07) to the cutesy (Daddy's Little Girl) to the pithy (U Just Got Passed) to the witty (4-Sale). But the two signs that held my attention were a bit more understated.

I noticed the two cars as soon as they drove onto the track--they were both painted in day-glo yellow. One said CPA on the hood, and that driver's number, fittingly, was 1040. The other had no number, just a simple "Steve-O" painted on the side. But I knew they were together, because they had lookalike signs strapped to their roofs: one said DAD and the other said KID. Now there's a bonding experience if ever there was one. "Son, I think it's time you put a roll cage in that car of yours, strapped on a helmet and a fire-retardant suit, and hit the track with me." "Gosh, Dad. That'd be SWELL!"

Because of their easily-spotted paint jobs and highly recognizable signage, they were easy to keep track of, and they seemed to stick close by one another. Periodically, I'd find one, and not the other, and panic--"There's Dad. Where's Kid? WHERE'S KID??" I did get a little emotionally attached. It usually turned out that Kid had hit the pits to bang his hood straight after a collision or change a flat, and I'd breathe a sigh of relief. Kid was okay.

But about 3/4 of the way through the race, the story changed. "I see Dad--where's Kid?"

Oh, no.

Kid's car was stopped at the side of the track, unable to move. He was stuck behind another disabled vehicle, and it looked as if there was no hope for him to get off the track and into the pits. Cars, by this point traveling at about 90 mph, barrelled past him, offering no reprieve. Things looked bleak.

Just then, another car nudged his rear. I was furious. Stop picking on Kid! I wanted to yell. And then I noticed that the driver was number 1040, the CPA. Dad.

Dad cozied his car up to the back of his son's, and then he did the unthinkable in this pell-mell, run-at-your-own-risk race: he pushed his son into the safety of the pits. The two traveled gingerly the 100 yards or so to the arms of safety, Kid drove off to his resting spot, and Dad traveled on.

What would be cool is if this story ended in a win for Dad. It didn't. Some guy whose car was labeled "White Trash" came in first. "Some of you are white trash, too, you just don't want to admit it!" he crowed.

And Dad, who had been running cleanly and fast, sacrificed his position for his son's safety, and ended up in the middle of the pack.

But somehow, I don't think he minded.

So if you're ever bored and looking for something fun to do, I recommend Enduro Racing. It's fun to watch, and you just might learn something about healthy family dynamics in the process.

A Roof Over Our Heads

After a very dry July, we have been blessed with a lot of rain in August. On one hand, YAY! On the other hand, sigh. We've had a very wet porch for a while now, and we've been looking forward to having the roof on. Well, now that dream is a reality. I overstate, of course, but it is nice to have that done. Abe, Tim, Tim, and Shaun worked on the roof for a bit on Sunday afternoon--it was slated to be done on Saturday morning before we had to depart for an afternoon anniversary party, but wouldn't you know it? It poured all morning. So after a few hours' work on Sunday and a few more hours' work on Monday evening, the roof is on. It took a lot of manpower to get it done: helping on Monday were Tim, Tim, Daren, Dave, Jim, and Shaun.

To elaborate, though, I should note that the addition is now 100% roofed. The old roof on the rest of the house is still there. The next project on the docket is the demolition of Judah's room and the installation of windows and doors. Then, there are a few repairs to be made on the roof and one more skylight (in Judah's room) to install before they can finish roofing the old portion. Somewhere in there, they'll knock down a basement wall and pour a basement floor--those things have been waiting for the roof to be completed.

So there's most of it! It is a very subtle green color, which will hopefully look smashing against the tan siding we'll be putting on sometime in the near future.

A Mommy First

Everyone has a story like this: Loving, well-meaning family accidentally leaves a child behind. Hilarity ensues.

Today was my first.

I took the kids to the grocery store today, incident-free, and then we went to JoAnn fabrics so I could get some cheap fabric to satiate my purse-making craving. Though there were several times I thought I had lost Charis (you have no idea how interesting a fabric store can be for a three-year-old), I retained possession of her for the entire length of our time there. Judah, safely seated in the front of the cart, had nowhere to go. And it turns out that was a problem.

Charis had been sitting in the back of the cart for the last few minutes of our shopping trip, so when it came time to return the cart to its place, I lifted her out, grabbed my bag and purse, and began to walk away. Charis had wandered over to a bin of styrofoam pumpkins and was ogling them when I told her quite firmly that it was time to go.

"No, Mommy, we can't go yet!"

"Charis," I said, "I know you want a pumpkin to play with, but that is not on our list for today. Let's go."

"No, Mommy!"

"Charis. Yes. It's TIME."

"But we have to get BUBS!"

I looked behind me at the cart corral where my precious, forgotten son was sitting quietly in the front of our discarded cart. He looked so sad, so hopeful, so confused...

All I could do was chuckle. Uncontrollably. Because when an actual disaster has been averted, that's what you do.

(And then I kissed my eldest and thanked her for being so alert and taking such good care of her brother.)

No Film At Eleven

Hello, there! It has been a while since my last post, and I've had several things to jot here for posterity's sake, but no time. So here's a smattering of stuff. (I don't promise it will be well-written, but it will be long. So maybe you'd rather go make a cup of tea.)

1) My Great-Aunt Gee passed away last week. She was 89, I believe. While it was very sad, particularly for her son and daughter-in-law (who had been her caregiver for years) and their kids, her health had been failing for quite a long time, and I think she was ready to go. She was a spunky lady with a very quick wit, and she will be missed.

The funny thing about funerals, though, is that they are very often the only way to bring together family members and friends who don't often have occasion to visit with one another. This is certainly the case in our family, where my three aunts and uncles all live in faraway states, and other cousins and second-cousins are scattered to the four winds. A funeral is a sad reason to get together, true, but that doesn't make it any less fun to catch up with each other and enjoy one another's company. It was wonderful to be able to sit down and share a meal, horse around outside, and hug and kiss each other. Charis seemed especially fond of my Uncle Jim. He took her to go looking for the deer he accidentally scared away, which was an activity apparently right up her alley. Later, she glanced around the crowd of people, and, not finding Jim among them, said very seriously, "Where's that Jim? I love him."

Here's a photo of my mom and her siblings. In the front row, there's mom, Grandma, and Aunt Diana. In the back row, there's That Jim and Gary. Gary, incidentally, beat me soundly in a game of washer horseshoes. In this game, very similar to horseshoes, you toss these huge washers toward pipes sunken into the ground, with the goal of getting the washers inside the pipe. Hey--it's a lot harder than it sounds.

2) Here's Charis helping us navigate on our trip to Ohio. She pointed to random spot in the middle of the map and exclaimed, "There's our home!"

I asked her where we were going.

"Go home and take a nap," she said.

"You want to go home to take a nap?" I asked.

"Yes, but first we need to read. This map says, 'We need to go take a nap!"

Apparently the child was tired.

Judah made no mention of a nap whatsoever, so I can only assume he was well-rested and full of vim and vigor.

Though, he was of no help at all in navigating.

3) The day after our return, the kids were desperately in need of a bath. Judah had maple syrup and banana in his hair, and the soles of Charis' feet were black. Abe gave Judah a bath at about 7:30, and got him all dried, combed, and dressed. Charis was slated for the next bath, so I took her up and got her started. I had forgotten the comb for her hair downstairs, so I hiked down to retrieve it. In the meantime, Judah went up to make sure Charis was okay in her bath. He's always so concerned about her. Abe and I heard a soft plop noise, and immediately knew what it was. Abe took off upstairs to make sure everyone was okay. I grabbed the camera on the way by, because I knew that if everyone was okay and that plop noise was what I thought it was, it'd be a pretty good picture. And it was--here's Judah enjoying bath #2 with his sister.

4) To continue the theme... Yesterday, I took a mini-holiday with two of my sisters-in-law, Beth and Auntie M. Beth and I ran Moriah's volleyball team's practice in the morning, then we headed up to the bigger city to our north for an afternoon of lunch at a favorite cafe, pedicures, and shopping. Whilst Beth and I got pedicures (which I could happily do weekly), M got some gel nails--a true departure for her, since she is a 15-year-old athlete and definitely NOT a girly-girl. I was lamenting the fact that I hadn't brought my camera to record such an event, but when I returned home that night and saw the pictures Abe was able to capture, I was pleased the camera had been left behind.

It was truly a dark and stormy night last night--even when it wasn't actually night. Both Abe and my mother-in-law called us while we were shopping to make sure we were safe and dry--storms raged through, downing trees and power lines, stranding cars and causing accidents. The downpour cut power in many of the area's neighborhoods, including ours. When the rain had subsided a bit, Abe and the kids went outside for a bit of dirty fun. Take a look:

Yes, those are my children sitting in the mud, surrounded by construction detritus, and yes, Judah is playing with a cat box litter scoop. Don't think for a minute I didn't cringe when I saw that. Rest assured that he wouldn't have been playing with such a toy if mama had been home...but I think daddies are a bit more lenient about that sort of thing. "Aw, they'll wash up."

I did ask Abe to please change the kids into grubby clothes the next time he lets them roll around in the mud.

5) Judah's new word is Hello, and it's the cutest thing. I had called my brother to wish him a Happy Birthday, and during the call, Judah woke up from a nap. I put the phone on speaker so Judah could hear his uncle's voice, and Steve said, "Hello, Judah!" to which Judah nonchalantly replied, "W-Oh."

"Wait, did he just say 'Hello'?" my brother asked.

"Yeah...I think so!" I replied. "He has never said that before!"

I think it was very cool that Steve, who lives hundreds and hundreds of miles away and doesn't get to experience very many of his niece and nephew's "first" things, was the first to hear Judah say Hello. Happy Birthday indeed, Steverino.

Well, that's all for now. But stay tuned.

*Please note: I've been playing with the formatting of this post for a while now, and I just can't seem to stop it from squishing all together. My humble apologies for this mishmosh of a post!

Being Right is so Wrong. Being Left is soooo Right.

International Left Handers Day is August 13th. And I missed it! I didn't get a present or flowers or anything!

I celebrate my left-handedness. Shoot, I celebrate others' left-handedness. Every left-hander does--we make up only about 10% of the population, so we have got to stick together. We commiserate with each other about the injustices of living in a right-handed world: Did you know that the writing on pens and pencils is always upside down for lefties? Did you know that a standard butter knife is right-hand oriented? Did you know that the spout on punch bowl ladles is on the wrong side for people like me? Sure you didn't; you're probably right-handed. You don't think about the trial of having to learn to cut with right-handed scissors. You don't think about the fact that stick-shifts can only be operated with the right hand (not that it matters to me, since I stay away from those things as much as possible). You don't think about trying to write on those stupid desks attached to chairs--you just lean your elbow on the conveniently (for you) placed surface and ignore the fact that the lefty beside you is hunched over uncomfortably, trying to scribble something legible whilst her arm is completely unsupported. And people wonder why so many lefties have terrible handwriting.

Well, the websites HolidayInsights.com and lefthandersday.com have a lot to say on this topic. But if you have time for only one informative link, look to the Washington Post for a very enlightening article. Let this be a lesson to you right-handed folks: we lefties may be "America's only remaining uncoddled interest group," but WATCH OUT. We are a force to be reckoned with.

Tickle Me Judah

Judah has another word, and that word is Tickle. Or, more accurately, Tickletickletickletickletickle. Or, even more accurately, ickl-ickl-ickl-ickl-ickl. It's pretty cute--he sort of grabs at your arm and giggles. And you just have to laugh!

Charis' new word...is one I wish she wouldn't say in public. We were in the car yesterday, and I said something about "going the opposite direction." We've been working on opposites, so that's what word I was focused on. She, however, was focused on the word "direction," though, try as I might (and, oh, did I try), I could not persuade her to put a D sound on the front of that word. And she kept saying it and saying it and saying it...so I changed it to "going the other way." It's just easier, you know? And maybe a little less embarrassing.

Antiques Roadshow Update

I've referenced our Antiques Roadshow Experience a couple of times--namely, here and here. But PBS finally has its fall Antiques Roadshow schedule posted, and it looks like the Milwaukee episodes will air on October 29, November 5, and November 12. If we appear, we'll be in the background or in the "Feedback Booth" segment at the end with the credits. You never know--we might be on National Television!

Let's Go Ride a Bike

Three years ago, when Charis was just a tiny bit of a baby, Abe and I purchased a pull-behind child carrier for a bike. It was a Cannondale, so it was a decent brand, but the metal strap meant to secure it to the actual bike was broken, so the seller only wanted $5 for it. We gladly paid, knowing that Abe works with metal and could easily fix it.

Three years later, he finally got around to doing it, and the repair only took about 10 minutes. He strapped it to his bike, put the kids inside, I hopped on my trusty bike, and we were off! Thus began the new family tradition of bike riding.

The kids didn't know exactly what to think at first. They were intrigued by the straps (and Abe and I were momentarily befuddled--why is safety so confusing?), but not sure they liked being attached to anything this unfamiliar. Judah kept leaning on Charis, which she did not love. But they quickly got over it, and now they're old pros.

We haven't gone for a ride in about a week and a half because the weather conditions haven't been favorable--I mean, who wants to struggle up a hill on a bike in 95 degree weather? Not I. Though, to be honest, hills are much easier for me than Abe, since all I'm hauling is me--Abe is hauling himself AND two children in a pod. On most hills, this makes me look superhuman, or at least like I could win a mountain stage or two of the Tour de France. (On the flip side, when Abe beats me to the top, I look like a weak little girl. My favorite.)

Honestly, I have been surprised by the vast amount of overwhelming hills near our house. It's not like we live in Colorado; we live in the Midwest, land of gently rolling hills and mild inclines. But even a mild incline feels like the Pyrenees, with my physical condition. I would be dead meat if we actually did live in a mountainous area, probably walking my bike more than riding it...




We do all the normal things on our bike rides; we drop off the mail, of course, to save a car trip. We're green like that. (I also use canvas grocery bags, and we compost and recycle.)

(Actually, we're less "green" and more "cheap", unwilling to pay for trash service, unwilling to pay for more gas than we need, gunning for the 5-cent-per-bag credit at the store for bringing reusable bags...but hey, I'll pretend we're environmentally aware.)


We go to the park to let the kiddies stretch their legs and climb on the dinosaurs. We actually have several parks within a short bike ride of our house, so we can mix it up a little bit. Admittedly, it's probably pretty boring for the kids to ride in the pod, unable to move, facing backward with nothing to look at but me, so we hope to keep the rides fun--toss in some ice cream here and there, trips to the playground, floating tree bark "boats" down a waterfall--so they won't revolt when we pull out the bikes in the future.


We even discovered a park we didn't know existed: about a mile from our house is a beautiful wildflower park. Of course, it isn't prime wildflower season, especially since we haven't had rain since, oh, May? But all the same, I think you'll agree that there are a lot worse ways you could spend your time than riding down paths that look like this. I look forward to spring and the cool, breezy rides we will take then, passing vibrant palettes of flowers in fresh bloom, breathing air not yet fattened with humidity and smog, stretching our legs after a long, construction-free winter. THAT will be a treat.

I'm Not Ready for This

Today, the guys are working on the house (of course). Beth came over, and we took all of the kids for a walk up to a free carnival at a nearby church. It was great fun--free hot dogs, sno-cones, popcorn, games and activities, lots of prizes...needless to say, the kids loved it.

By the time we returned home, the two youngest--Judah and Elise--were bushed. We put them down for naps, and they drifted off to sleep in seconds. While they slept, Beth and I put together lunch, fed the awake kids, and we all played Grocery Store in the kitchen. Again, still having fun.

But we were sitting outside when I thought I heard Judah waking up. I waited a minute or two before I went in to check. I walked through the kitchen, through the dining room, through the living room, and turned to go up the stairs to retrieve Judah, and then I saw it.

Judah was sitting at the top of the stairs waiting for me.

How did this happen? Charis climbed out of the crib once, fell, and was content thereafter to stay put. Judah hasn't even shown signs of interest in climbing out of his crib--I haven't seen him try once, and whenever he's ready to get up, he tells me so. Loudly. But now, he can apparently do it all by himself. I don't know whether to be proud or horrified. A bit of both, I suspect.

I went outside to tell Abe (He'll be SHOCKED!!!), who in turn informed me that he caught him trying to climb out of the crib this morning when he was getting Judah up. "I just forgot to tell you," says he.

Great.

I have always been a big fan of the crib. What could be better for a mother's peace of mind than knowing her child is safely contained in a soft, comfy place? Knowing that her child could possibly be awake, climbing downstairs and wreaking havoc? Is that better? I think not.

Shoot, now both of the kids can get out of their beds. I am in BIG trouble.

House Project Update

The next step in the construction process was putting up walls for the second floor addition. The walls may look a little short to you; that's mostly because they are. Our house is technically classified as 1.5 stories, meaning there's really not much attic to speak of--the ceilings on the second floor are shorter than on the first floor, and above that is roof. Consequently, both Charis and Judah have walls that slant into ceiling after about 5.5 feet. The ceilings are still plenty tall, but we have decided to vault the ceiling in Judah's bedroom (which will include the new addition) to give the feeling of more space. Poor Charis is going to be so jealous... We've also decided to vault the ceiling because there is a tiny (maybe 6 inch?) step up into the second floor addition, due to the ceiling height of the first floor rooms; if we didn't vault, it would likely feel more like 1.25 stories up there. Not exactly what we're going for.



After the walls came the roof line for the main section of the addition. The back porch that we ripped off had an inferior roof line, meaning that the slope wasn't steep enough, so ice tended to collect where the roofs met. The beauty of this new roof is that it is code-friendly, supporting a pitch that will enable rain, snow, and ice to slide off with ease, thereby eliminating the drippy ceilings we had become accustomed to in the old back porch. You'll notice the wall supports that are flush against the house and seem to be holding up the new roof rafters: this is actually the framing for the vaulted ceiling we've decided to put in the main floor addition. Yes, we're all about the vaulting. Again, this was to lend the illusion of space--even though it (obviously) adds no more square footing, we thought it would make it seem much more open and airy. Another decision we made last-minute was to put a skylight in the bathroom. Apparently, the trend these days is to build baths like these with no windows in them--a crying shame, says I--but I thought it might be nice to have a little daylight in the small room and not have to share our bathroom habits with the neighbors. So, voila, a skylight. I can't wait!



Here, the guys (Abe, brother-in-law Tim, and Shaun the contractor/renter) are "sheeting" the roof. Abe had to make a quick trip to Lowe's for some roof spacers--tiny metal doohickeys that allow the roof to expand and contract. What will they think of next?

And that's where they are for now. On the docket is the roof for the second floor, which will likely be put on this weekend (at least part of it...)

My greatest role in all of this is child care. And catering. Funny, but in my weekly menu planning, I almost never schedule anything for the weekends--yet the weekends are when I do my largest volume of cooking--two weekends ago, I cooked all day Saturday--grilled chicken, pasta salad, biscuits, cookies, banana bread, large amounts of homemade pizza--for the guys working on the house. This past weekend, work didn't commence until after supper, so I was off the hook, but I imagine this weekend will not be so luxurious. I'm thinking some sort of sandwich...maybe sloppy joes?


Even the kids get in on the action. In this picture, Charis is trying to supervise Judah's use of the reciprocal saw. Didn't I tell you he is advanced? (Don't worry--it's not plugged in, and actually, Charis was in the process of making sure Bubs did NOT pick up Daddy's tool. I imagine she wanted to have the pleasure of doing that herself.)





And here's Charis replenishing the fluids she lost while supervising. A forewoman's work is never done!

Judah the Brave

My son. He is but 16 months old. It was only about 5 months ago or so he was taking his first toddling steps. Then his uncertain feet learned to run. Most recently, he learned how to crawl down the stairs and, to my--what is it, horror? delight?--whatever, he learned to climb up AND DOWN a ladder. I ask you, what 16 month-old has that kind of coordination? The other day, he was trying to climb up the ladder on the swing set and was not entirely successful because of the rung spacing. Today, he tried again on a different ladder, and here is the result:

What you don't see are Abe's hands, just outside of the shot. I mean, really, what kind of mother do you think I am?

Yes. He is bald. We shaved his head on a whim, and he actually has a very nice head shape for baldness. Even if one of his friends told him that the shaved head makes him look mean and unapproachable. (I respectfully disagree.)

Oh, Charis...

So Charis just walked behind me wielding a three foot long dowel and shouting, "LET MY PEOPLE GOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!"

And we haven't even seen a locust around here for weeks. (Although the frogs do seem to be getting out of hand...)

How To Mend a Broken Heart

Charis is becoming very self-aware. Today, several times, after suffering some sort of injustice (cousin pushing her over, Brother sitting on her head, falling off the stool), she let me know what would help assuage her pain, only she said it in such a Charis way: "A tomato would feel me better, mama."

And just a few minutes ago, while we were playing on the big bed, Charis said, "I'm going to spank Daddy!" And since we were all playing, I said, "Go for it!" So Charis moved over towards Abe, who was laying on his stomach, belly flopped right onto his behind and exclaimed, "I SPANKED DADDY WITH MY BELLY!!!"

But enough about me

Back to the children, the actual intended topic of this blog. :)

Judah is getting so old. And defiant. Yes, that's right, we've entered the Direct Disobedience Zone. I knew it would happen sometime, and since Judah is just about 16 months old, I guess he figured now is as good a time as any. Here is the major drawback of this particular stage: while he understands (and uses) the word No, he does not yet understand any sort of discipline or punishment. So the best we can do at present is to make it clear that NO, you are not to play with the electrical outlets (or dump your juice on the carpet or play with the satellite box or hit mama with the giant legos), and remove him from the situation and hope to distract him from whatever defiant thing he was doing. We also have to make sure the distraction is not a reward (as in, "No, you may not play in the hazardous chemical cupboard, but here's a cookie!"), just a redirection to more wholesome endeavors. A challenge. I've read that 18 months is about the earliest they start making the connection between disobedience and discipline, so we're in for a couple of interesting months.

Judah has also learned a new trick, one that sets my mind a little more at ease: now, not only can he go up the stairs, he can also climb down. Whew. I thought he'd never figure that one out. I've been working with him on it at every opportunity, and it finally caught on. Speaking of "caught on," Abe's mom watched the kids last night so we could go stuff ourselves with hamburgers and onion rings and frozen cokes and movie popcorn and m&ms and enjoy a cheap movie (more on that later), and when we returned to collect the kiddies, she informed me that she defnitely thought she heard Judah say cat and juice, two words we've been working on at home. Progress!

Three Cute Charis anecdotes:
1) On the way to Yia-Yia's house, Charis says, "Mama! Knock, Knock!"
Now I had no idea she knew how to do knock knock jokes, and I don't know where she could have possibly learned one, but I am so excited to play along, so I reply, "Who's there?"
"Horsey!"
"Horsey who?"
"NO, MAMA! It's me, CHARIS!"
Which was a relief, because I almost never know how to begin a conversation with a horse.

2) Charis always tells me what is "good" to do--usually it's said like this: "Mama, it's good for you to share cookies with Charis." Yesterday, I was folding laundry in our bedroom, and Charis and Judah were playing in the living room. "Mama!" Charis said. I looked out into the living room and saw Judah on all fours, cackling, and Charis sitting on him as if he were a pack mule. "Mama, it's good to have fun!"

3) When we were leaving Abe's parents' house last night, I called out behind me, "Thanks for watching the kiddies!" And Charis called out, "Yeah, thanks for watching the kitties!"

8 Random Facts About Me

Friends, I promise this was not my idea--genreally speaking, I like me, but I'm not narcissistic enough to think that your most burning desire today is to find out all about me. I just want to clear that up right away, before my tendency to ramble incessantly makes you think otherwise! April, a lovely friend of mine from High School, "tagged" me: "I'm tagging you -- you need to post 8 random facts about yourself on your blog. I have a feeling you've done this before?" What's that all about, April? Sort of a bloggy truth or dare?

Well, I've never been tagged before, so I don't know precisely how it works--do I tag April back with a different question? Do I keep the same question and tag another blogger? Or two? If I don't, will something bad happen to me? Can I make up my own question to ask and then tag anyone I want? And do THEY have to respond? This tagging phenomenon could be interesting...

So now for the facts. Which will probably not be interesting to anyone but my mother, and even then...

1) I pretend to be someone who genuinely enjoys food of all types. I would have you believe that I am an adventuresome type of eater, but in fact, I am not. Here are some of the things I have an aversion to, most of which make the "Most Favorite Things Ever" lists of other people:
Coffee
Milk (mostly because it makes me dreadfully ill)
Peanut Butter
The Chocolate/Peanut Butter combo
Chocolate (just kidding about that one)
Anything that used to live in water--lobster, shrimp, fish sticks... (I do enjoy the occasional tuna sandwich, but it has to be made by me)
Sweet potatoes
Pumpkin Pie
...the list goes on. But I promised I'd try to make this at least a little bit interesting, so I'll stop there.

2)My earliest career ambition was to be a fighter pilot in the Air Force. But when I was about 9, someone told me that women couldn't become fighter pilots, so I gave up the dream. Though I suppose the fact that, by age 17, I couldn't read the alarm clock next to me without corrective lenses might have also helped the USAF make their decision on that one.

3)I am really not all that creative. If I had a nickel for every time someone told me I was, I'd almost have enough to buy that pair of flip-flops I've been coveting (because let's be honest, nickels don't go very far). But the truth is, I am a faker through and through. Just ask my kids, who have been known to fall asleep out of sheer boredom whilst playing with me. I like to surround myself with creative and funny people so that when we're in a crowd, I can witness their creativity and wit and pretend they just beat me to the punch.

4)One of my all-time greatest dreams is to be a published author. I suppose that technically, I already am one; a short piece I wrote in the 3rd grade which showed an "advanced use of adverbs" was published in some education publication (though I personally never saw a copy). But being published without your knowledge or consent doesn't really count, I think,and anyway, what I really have in mind is a book. I read a lot of non-fiction, mostly essays and narratives and such, and I think that would be what I'm best at writing. I've tried to write fiction, but see item #3 for my reason why that has never panned out.

Some of my favorite books to read are travel narratives. They're almost always interesting, and through the power of imagination, I can pretend that I am actually there, when, in fact, I am not only not there, I don't even have the brass to buy the book that contains the narrative and have only borrowed it from the library. But for what I pay in my inevitable late fee, I can travel just about anywhere I wish, and that's cool. So, to hone my dream, I wish to be a published author of a travel narrative. Or several. But that requires cash. Which, see above, I don't really have.

5)If I had a million dollars, I'd... oh, this could be hard. Let's face facts: while this age-old question certainly is interesting, a million dollars ain't what it used to be. Sure, when I was 8, it seemed like I could buy the entire world with that kind of cash. But in these days of inflation, it can only go so far. So let's make it five million. With my trifling five million dollars, I'd:
Pay off my mortgage and all debts (Then, with the $12 or so that I've got left over, I'd:)
Buy out my parents' and brother's mortages, pay off all of their debts, and move them so that they'd live near me
Pay for my kids' schooling, as much as they want to pursue
Buy a really nice digital SLR and a Mac
Travel with the family, then write about it on my Mac (and of course, publish the pictures that I took of it with my nice camera)
Hire a maid
...and a landscaper and gardener
Never buy store-brand food again. I'd buy actual Ritz crackers and Chips Ahoy and EVERYTHING.

But I'm getting carried away.

6)I am ever-so-slightly obsessive compulsive. You'd never know it by looking at my house most days, but I am obsessed with things being a certain way. For instance, I will spend whole minutes adjusting my coffee table after I've vacuumed so that it's precisely parallel to the couch. I have a specific system for loading the dishwasher, and I can't even LOOK at it if Abe has loaded it (this does not happen very often). My dining room table must be prefectly centered with the windows it sits by--and I gauge this by the seam in the middle of the table.

I have grown more casual about the whole thing since having kids--I don't have the time to obsess like I used to. But please don't tease me with lines that are not parallel, because I might hurt somebody.

7)As evidenced by item #6, I am having a hard time thinking of interesting things about myself to tell you. (I mean, seriously, OCD is so passe.) What else is random and somewhat interesting? The pointer finger on my right hand is double-jointed? I'm left-handed, but only write and eat with my left hand? I can roll my tongue into a tube? The only person I could beat in a swimming race is a person without use of arms or legs, and even then, it'd be a close one?

Why, oh why, couldn't this have been "TAG! List 5 random facts about yourself"?

7)I am addicted to the VH1 show World Series of Pop Culture. I do pretty well in some categories, particularly ones about sitcoms or the gossip column. I blame Must-See TV and Us weekly for that. But I am HORRIBLE at the music categories, because I just don't listen to the radio very much at all. No, when I am in my car by myself, I chuck on a CD of someone I wish I could sing as well as, and I pretend that I do, at the top of my lungs. I particularly like Allison Krauss, Patty Griffin, that sort of thing. Ladies with a lot of feeling in their voices. So tonight, when one of the categories was about songs referring to the posterior, I was woefully sunk, as Allison Krauss and Patty Griffin do not sing many lyrics about luscious behinds.

And movies...another hit-and-miss category: I generally go for romantic comedies, though I do also like the Christopher Guest mockumentaries, so I suppose if there was a category about Waiting for Guffman, I'd do pretty well. And the topic of Friends. I'd do well at that, since it seems we watch Friends reruns at least once or twice a day.

Because I'm nothing if not sophisticated and well-rounded. :)

8)I am actually pretty introverted, though it probably seems all of this self-talk is to the contrary (but remember, it wasn't my idea). Yes, there are times when things seem safe enough for me to come out of my shell, and most of you would hesitate to call me introverted, because you are my friend, and when I'm with you, I'm anything but. But I really am one of those people who is recharged by alone time. I get very, very grumpy and horrible when I don't get enough time by myself, just to be silent. No music, no TV, no internet, just me in a room or a car, perhaps reading, and hopefully sipping a big vat of icy cherry Coke.

Which is what I'm going to do right now.

Now, who shall I tag next?

Spidergirl

Poor, sweet Charis. On Tuesday morning, I noticed a small spot on her cheek. We had been outside the evening before, playing and picking berries in the backyard, so I figured it was just a mosquito bite. Happens all the time.

But a few hours later, her face seemed to be red around the bite, and ... swelling?

I still thought I must be mistaken, but when Abe got home he was emphatic that it was, in fact, quite swollen. Looking at it more closely, he noticed that the spot bore the telltale two fang marks of a spider bite. I called the pediatric nurse, who sugested we try Benadryl and keep an eye on it for increased swelling. She also told us (not to alarm you) that something called Cellulitis was also possible, so if it got much worse, we should bring her in. Of course, the next day was the 4th, not a prime doctor-visit kind of day, so she encouraged us to come in right away if it seemed to be worsening.

So we purchased and administered the Benadryl (she was by now looking so bad that, at the store, with no dosing tool available, Abe suggested I just "give her a swig" of the Benadryl. I declined.), and she settled down for a late nap.

I woke her (and Abe, who she'd requested take a nap with her) in order to have time to eat dinner before we all headed out for Abe's softball game. But by this time, she looked awful. She looked like a prizefighter who'd gotten the snot beat out of him. Her eye was almost swollen shut, the right side of her face had expanded to ridiculous proportions, and the whole lot was red and splotchy. I called the pediatrician's office, and they told me to come right in.

Of course, it turned out to be nothing the doctor could do much about. Cellulitis was a possibility, but a possibility they couldn't confirm until 48 hours after the bite. She told me to continue with the Benadryl, noting that the bite would probably worsen on Wednesday, but should stop getting worse by Thursday, returning to normal a couple of days after that. (!!!)

But I am happy to report that, while it was indeed worse on Wednesday morning, it has improved ever since, and today, she is almost back to normal! She's always been faster than western medicine. :)