I finished a book!

Way back after this little project, I felt inspired to begin mentioning in this here blog when I had finished a book. I appreciate knowing what others have read, so this seemed a good opportunity to practice the Golden Rule.

The trouble is that at that moment I was overcome with the desire to read a rather long (correction: very long) biography of T.E. Lawrence, a.k.a. Lawrence of Arabia. I just finished it. It's embarrassing how long it took me to complete (do the math), but, in my defense, it wasn't exactly a page turner. So I didn't have the opportunity to put into effect my good intentions of writing about a recently read book. Until now.

Finally!

I read Hero: The Life and Legend of Lawrence of Arabia, a new biography by Michael Korda.

It wasn't long after I began that I had a sneaking suspicion that I wasn't exactly the intended audience. I had this English professor once who was a fervent believer in the interconnected intertextuality of post-modernism. To put it simply, he believed that every time you read a text, you were connected in a way to everyone else who had ever read that text. If that is true, then I just spent the last two months hanging out with a bunch of crusty old retired white men (whose house slippers cost more than my car) in their vast yet cozy private libraries as we all smoked pipes and laughed about the good old days at All Soul's and/or in the Royal Air Force. It was an odd club for me to be in, and I was clearly an outsider.

For instance, read this name: Field Marshall the Earl Kitchener, KG, KP, OM, GSCI, GCMG, GCIE. Do you know what all those letters at the end mean? Me either. This happened on page 2. I should have taken that as a sign to retreat while I still had the chance.

The little insides jokes in Latin and French were another clue that perhaps this book wasn't written just for me because, you know, my parents decided to send me to Coconino High School rather than a Swiss boarding school. (Darn it, Mom and Dad.)

When Korda makes an oh-so-helpful comment to the effect of "the geography and strategy of this battle were exactly like Gettysburg only on a smaller scale," instead of thinking, "Ah, ha! Now I can picture it," I am thinking, "What the heck? I've done my American duty and visited Gettyburg, and I've even read that Michael Shaara book, but I don't have Gettysburg memorized! Am I supposed to??" Is this some major character flaw that I don't walk around being able to visualize the battle of Gettysburg at the drop of a hat? Geez, I had no idea it would seriously impact my ability to understand the Battle of Aqaba. (Darn it, Coconino High School.)

I also don't smoke pipes.

The book doesn't start at the beginning of Lawrence's life. Chapter 1 leads up to the climax (said battle of Aqaba), Chapter 2 is the climax, and then in Chapter 3 we finally go back to his birth and move forward in chronological order. This is fine, not starting with "Our subject was born on such and such day," but it assumes that the reader already has a basic grasp of the subject's life.

Before I read this book, all I knew about Lawrence of Arabia was that my little brother Andy, as a youngster of eight or so, spent several days watching the movie Lawrence of Arabia on a nonstop loop until the VHS tape finally had to be returned to Blockbuster. I couldn't even place Lawrence in history: 19th century? World War II? 1950s? My best guess was that he was a contemporary of Indiana Jones. (I was wrong. Lawrence began tromping around the desert at the same time as Henry Jones SENIOR, before the outbreak of World War I.)

It would have served me well to spend a few minutes on Wikipedia before I tackled this book. As it was, I struggled through the first couple of chapters--that were sprinkled with unhelpful comments to the effect of "you know, because of his MOM" and "you know, because of that whole Sykes-Picot thing." No, Mr. Korda you haven't introduced his mom yet, so I don't know. And Sykes-Picot what??

However, onward I trudged, though sometimes I felt like I was lost in the desert myself. And why did I trudge onward? Because it was dang interesting!

A book about T.E. Lawrence is inevitably a book about the Middle East just before, during, and after World War I. The history itself is fascinating. Shocking even (at least to the ignorant like myself).

When World War I started (in the summer of 1914), much of what we now know as the Middle East (Syria, Jordan, Palestine, Iraq) minus Saudi Arabia (no body wanted that--oil hadn't been discovered yet) was part of the Ottoman Empire (the Turks). As the war was raging in Europe, the Turks dilly-dallied about whose side they would support in the war. This left the British in the position of simultaneously begging the Turks to join the Allies and preparing for the Turks to join Germany (which they eventually did).

With the Turks on the side of the Germans, the stakes were raised in the Middle East. Obviously, the Allies wanted to beat back "the bad guys" wherever they could. The Brits were especially nervous about the important Suez Canal, which was precariously close to the area controlled by the Turks, and the Allies wanted to regain control of Jerusalem (sound like the Crusades to anyone?). The fact is that the Ottoman Empire was falling apart from the inside out (and had been for some time), and everyone knew it was on the verge of crumbling. The British were obviously keen on anything that might bring it down soon rather than later.

So. The British pursued a policy of supporting an Arab Revolt within the Ottoman Empire. With money, weapons, and training, they encouraged diverse Arab tribes in the region to rise up against their Turkish occupiers. This was extremely dangerous, as the Turks routinely tortured and killed those who opposed Ottoman rule. But, like I said, the British provided money, weapons, and training. And Lawrence. And THE PROMISE OF AN INDEPENDENT UNITED ARAB NATION after the war.

Yes, that needed all caps. And I will need them again.

That whole Sykes-Picot thing the author kept bringing up? Turns out it was a "secret" agreement the British worked out with the French on how the two countries would split up the Middle East between themselves after the war. Yes, Britain was planning the colonization of the very region it was promising to the Arabs. The very regions they had promised to the Arabs, they were REALLY PROMISING TO THE FRENCH. They were asking the Arabs to DIE FOR NOTHING. (See, that definitely warranted caps.)

I'm sure this is all common knowledge, and I have been living under a rock. But now that I am no longer sheltered by a big rock over my head, I look at the unrest, instability, and conflict in the Middle East and say, "No duh!"

Now that we're all horrified by the British (and the French! I'm blaming the whiny French who seriously thought Damascus belonged to them since they once built a castle there...during the freaking Crusades), let's move on to the man himself, Thomas Edward Lawrence. He's a pretty fascinating guy, that one. And that's what really kept me reading.

Unfortunately for me (but probably fortunately for you), I have that pile of laundry to attend to, as well as a parent-teacher conference in twenty minutes. We'll have to come back to the subject of Mr. Lawrence another day.

I'm sorry I can't read normal books that other people--like those who don't have looks and names like Alistair Cooke--might actually want to read. And I'm sorry to realize I can't be like a normal person and write about a book in one post. I promise to do better. (But my promise is probably no better than Britain's.)

Heaven help me

And this is only half of it.

And as far as laundry days go, this is a light one.

Sigh...

Spring concert

There may not be a single bud or bloom from here to Duluth, but no amount of chilly weather can stop the ringing of children's voices rising from the school cafeteria. It's spring concert season, and David's was yesterday.

Here is David pointing me out to a classmate whom we shall call The Girl Who Likes Star Wars. (If David decides to invite girls to his birthday party, she's allowed to come.)

The kindergartners performed almost a dozen songs over the course of half an hour. Ms. B, the music teacher, did a fabulous job. Each student in the entire kindergarten had an opportunity to play an instrument or dance at some point during the concert. I thought the concert was wonderful!

David, on the other hand, was a little more ambivalent:

Click on the picture for a better view. The green arrows are David and his BFF, mentioned here. The blue arrows are happy kindergarten faces that I couldn't resist pointing out to you.

It's so adorable when five-year-olds do actions.

Don't you think?

Despite his lack of overwhelming enthusiasm, David was spotted occasionally singing.

Look at the above picture to see where David is. Isn't he sweet? Then, if you choose (i.e. if you're my mom), you can watch a few little clips of the concert.

David has been humming this song for months. It was sweet to see him perform it.

This is such a cute song. (Um, too bad David decided to take a nap half way through.)

Here is a video of David NOT singing. (Something every mother can be proud of.) By the way, I think he lost the right to criticize Mary.

But David did show bursts of super cuteness. He really got into this song.

(I wasn't sure what to record--I just wanted a few clips. According to David I failed miserably because I didn't record "The Bell Song." Oh well. Sorry, David.)

I love to hear my children singing songs under their breath or in their rooms when they think I can't hear. I'm grateful for all of the music they are exposed to both at church and school.

Even if we don't have blooms, at least we have music.

What I would have been blogging about

I haven't blogged in a few days, I know. Greg and I were asked to speak in church last Sunday, so every time I sat down to blog, I felt guilty--like I should instead work on preparing my remarks for church. So I would dutifully NOT blog.

. . . And instead I would read blogs. And soak up as much free content on the New York Times website before the dreaded paywall went up. And accomplish basically nothing.

This happened over and over again until 10 pm on Saturday night when I realized that I had no blogs posts to show for my time online or, even more shamefully, any coherent thoughts to share in church. That is when I finally opened a Word document.

So had I been blogging over the weekend, instead of dutifully pretending like I was preparing to speak in church, here are a few of the thrilling topics I might have blogged about . . .

1) The clutch in our Forester

I told you these were thrilling topics.

If you have ever driven our Forester, you know that it has (had) a very tight clutch. But that tight, tricky clutch lasted over 180,000 miles! Finally, after years and years of expecting the clutch to go *kaput*, it happened. Even without the miracle clutch, our car still has good karma. (You all had better hope and pray that our Forester keeps running--because the day it dies is the day this blog turns becomes in memorium and records my 67 step grief process.)

2) T.E. Lawrence

Hmmm...what's more exciting? Post-WWI Middle Eastern politics or the clutch in my car? That's a tough one.

A book recommendation may or may not being coming soon.

3) Greg's midterm

If you think the clutch is exciting, wait until you hear about Greg's midterm. It is a take home test with five problems and a week to complete it. The only issue is that each problem, the professor correctly warned, takes 10 hours. Yikes! Now that's some math I can do. 50 hours! That's like a full time job--on top of his normal class routines, homework, and research. Needless to say, we haven't seen much Daddy this week. (David is having Lego Star Wars Wii withdrawals.) Fortunately for you, I am not actually going to tell you about Greg's exam, the problem being he lost me at "take the inverse of the matrices." Actually, he lost me way before that, but that's when my eyes rolled into the back of my head and I fell out of my chair.

4) Mary's South America

Look at this precious continent Mary made at school.

It's South America. Her uncle Daniel is a missionary in South America. We love South America.

Mary has been working with the maps at school, and she did this by punching pins into the paper.

I observed Mary's classroom for an hour or so today. I watched her working with the movable alphabet. She wrote the word "mom" for me.

Anyway, Mary's school is much more interesting than Greg's. Unless you're into big disasters. And lots of numbers. And 50 hour midterms.

5) My breaking heart

Now here's a topic perfect for a mommy blog!

The other day Mrs. Q, David's teacher, commented to me on how David and his BFF are such great friends. She pointed out that she has seen kids really connect like that in kindergarten before--and they go on to be friends forever. She told me how great it would be for each of them to have such a good friend in the other for many, many years to come. Sometimes we meet our very best friend in our kindergarten class.

Except that David is moving in two and a half years.

I want to crumble to the ground in a giant heap every time I think about it. I have a pit the size of Milwaukee in my stomach. My heart is breaking.

I completely underestimated how hard it was going to be to move our children every few years.

6) My fame

Look here. What an honor!

Does this make me more famous than Lawrence of Arabia?

You can find the seller's crafting blog here. Check it out--even though it only demonstrates a tiny fraction of her coolness. Liz is a human being extraordinaire. If T. E. Lawrence is a hero, then Liz is a super hero. Which she will prove by continuing to be my friend even though I put her in the same sentence as Thomas Edward Lawrence. At least, I hope she will.

7) This sweater

It's too small. But it's the last of my items from the Wednesday Ladies' Market in Adana, Turkey. I know there is no shortage of hand knitted sweaters in America. Heck, I think Madison--along with Fort Collins--is the knitting capital of the world. But it's just not the same without the "merhaba," the "teşekkür ederim," and that special Adana smell.

And that concludes all the thrilling topics you missed out on reading about last week while I was busy not thinking about the Word of Wisdom. Yes, Greg and I were asked to speak about the Mormon health code. You can read Joseph Smith's original revelation on the subject here, and a good summary of how Mormons live the law nowadays is here. I spoke about our physical health in terms of the two lines of communication Elder Oaks explained last General Conference (which, by the way, is a really good explanation of how being Mormon works).

Okay, so I might have won the prize for best use of a conference address not at all related to the Word of Wisdom. But Greg won the prize for best stories. Want to hear one?

Okay. But first I have to finish blogging about what I would have been blogging about and then I need to blog about what I should have been blogging about and then maybe I'll squeeze in a story or two.

Good-bye. I'm off to NOT read the New York Times.; I'm saving up my page views. (No comments from my more conservative friends and family, please.)

My Mary

Time to remind you all--because I'm sure you forgot--that I love this girl.

Also, right when I sat down to type this post, she punched me in the face. Hmmm. So perhaps I need to remind myself that I love this girl.

What can I say about my Mary?

With Mary, I have to plan extra time into everything because of the silliness factor. Getting dressed means putting her pants on her head; putting on shoes means wearing Mommy's; setting the table means giving everyone baby spoons; going to school means hiding in my closet; eating dinner means shaking her booty for us. Mary can find silliness in anything.

She likes to laugh. This is probably her primary motivation for being silly--never ending reasons to laugh.

Mary likes to "build castles," which, as far as I can tell, means stacking all the junk she can find on the couch. This drives me crazy and Greg even more so.

Recently, Mary has named all of her boogers "Bob." She'll announce, "Bob the Booger! He's coming out!" or "It's Bob! I need a tissue." Yesterday on the way home from school, she related this experience: "Mommy, today at school I had a lot of boogers. I was doing my lesson and Bob fell out on my pant! Bob escaped from my nose and fell out while I was doing my lesson!"

Mary insists on having her turn to read books too. Each afternoon David practices reading, and then Mary "reads" his same books from memory. Recently, David's books have become too long and complicated for her to recite from memory. So I bought her a couple of her very own books, "I Like Stars" and "I Like Bugs." She treasures her books and reads them to me every day. (Incidentally, she is showing great interest in reading. Her sound book at school is full, and she has started making words from the sounds. She also enjoys pretending to sound out words in books.)

Mary is stubborn. She insists on her way. For instance, Greg has rules about his office door. If the door is open, the kids are free to come in. If the door is closed, he's available to the kids if they need him. If the door is closed with a stop sign displayed, Daddy is not to be disturbed. Mary hates the stop sign. If she interrupts Greg when the stop sign is up, Greg will remind her of the rule--the stop sign means no daddy. So Mary will remove the stop sign...and then go into the office. There was no stop sign on the door after all.

She likes a good argument. For example, she may ask you what day it is. It being a Wednesday, you would reply, "Wednesday." To which she would argue, "No, it's Friday!" "No, Mary, it's Wednesday." "No! It's FRIDAY!"

Mary sings songs throughout the day. She insists on listening to music in the car--farewell, my public radio--and happily sings along. She plays the piano and makes up songs, her favorite being a tune she calls "I hate winter."

Mary talks, and I can understand her. It's just wonderful having two children with whom I can communicate. Mary is no verbal wonder, but she happens to be more intelligible than her brother was at this age. It is a very fun thing to be able to hear what is going on in a three-year-old's mind. Everything from "I'm going to save this yogurt until my next birthday" to "I will be a funny girl when I grow up" brings a smile to my face.

Mary has a lisp, and I think it's so cute. She also uses an /f/ instead of /th/, as in "I'm firsty," and I also think that is so cute.

Mary love, love, loves her daddy. She insists on him for almost everything, except school chauffeur, which she has kindly reserved for me. He reads her bedtime stories, wipes her bottom, gets her dressed, and comforts her when she's sad. If Daddy is available, Mommy simply will not do. And when she wanders into our room at night, it's her daddy she's looking for. Greg has learned it's a mixed blessing when you're first choice--he doesn't get as much sleep on those nights when she's sick or having nightmares. But he adores her, and once admitted to me that he just can't say no to his daughter. It must feel good to come home after a year's absence to find that your little daughter loves you more than ever.

Mary is sensitive, and she feels life deeply. Her feelings can be easily hurt and not easily soothed. Often I hold her shuddering body as she sobs, "Tears, tears! I can't stop crying, Mommy. I can't calm down." Oh, life will be bright and beautiful for her, but it also will be hard.

Greg and I often wonder where she came from. Could a child so beautiful and funny and intelligent and energetic have really come from us, from our DNA?

But we are so glad she is here, with us.

By the way, after Mary punched me in the face--which was so impulsive that I think it surprised her more than I--she was sent to her room. And then I took her shopping. She is a super fun shopping companion, especially shoe and clothes shopping. She patiently enjoys browsing and has helpful opinions in the dressing room. She's my little gal pal.

Did I mention I love her?

Piano

Guess what.

I'm a grown-up now.

Why?

I have a piano!

For years I have been saving my pennies, occasionally perusing Craig's List and checking the inventory at local piano sellers, waiting for the right piano at the right time. I have been patient--something that is not easy for me. I have seen lovely pianos come and go, and I've been tempted by the occasional freebie in need of some tender care. But nothing called out to me, as anxious as I was to have a piano in our home. I knew whatever piano we brought into our home would my one and only piano until the day I die. So I waited as the little pot of piano money grew, and I trusted that my heart would tell me when I'd found the right piano.

And my heart did.

One Monday morning, right after I got home from the gym, I was heading straight to the shower when I felt I should look at Craig's List at right that moment. I hadn't looked in a while, thinking that maybe I'd wait until summer or fall to start looking seriously again. (For years, every few months I start looking really seriously, only to give up because the timing seems wrong.) But I couldn't shake the feeling that I should look right then. So I did, only to find the usual digital pianos, American console pianos, and way-too-grand-for-our-home grand pianos. But then I scrolled down, and there it was, the perfect piano, posted for sale five days earlier.

Five days is an eternity on Craig's List. I was sure that the piano had already sold, and the seller hadn't bothered to remove the posting. But my heart was pounding with hope. I called right away, and I knew the moment I talked to Bruce, whose piano was indeed still for sale, that he was going to be getting a huge wad of cash from me very soon. He seemed pleased that such a nice family (if that's what you'd like to call us) was interested in the piano. His daughter had fallen in love with music on that piano, and it had been lovingly cared for since they had purchased it new. We made arrangements to meet later that day.

Of course this happened during an especially busy week. Taking off for a few hours to buy a piano wasn't on the agenda. But nothing was coming between me and that piano!

As soon as Greg got home from class, I asked him to put his studying aside to go buy a piano. We piled the kids into the car and drove to lovely little New Glarus (America's Little Switzerland). On the way, we drove through a tiny town and stopped at their local bank for all of that cash we were going to need. We bank through USAA, so we don't have a local bank. I am grateful for the kind people at that small bank branch seemingly in the middle of nowhere who were willing to help us out. I knew we could get the cash through USAA in a timely manner, and I trusted that Bruce would hold the piano a day or two (or more) for us, but I knew I would not sleep until I had bought that piano. And I wanted to wake up the very next morning well-rested.

Bruce met us downtown, and we followed him to his house, which he'd built on his father's farm where he'd grown up. We all trampled into his house, and he showed us the piano. There it was. My piano. Such peace in my soul! We dutifully played it and looked inside. Greg called his mom for some last second advice. (Check the soundboard.) Bruce was pleased that the piano was going to the "right" people. And, just as I predicted, Bruce got a big wad of cash from us that day.

On our way out, Bruce commented on how we both drive Subarus. Then he mentioned that his wife also drives a Subaru. And then we said we actually have two Subarus too. (Of course, we all took this to be a sign of some cosmic connection.) Bruce decided this was just further confirmation that the right piano was passing to the right people. (I personally thought it was meant to be because Bruce is an ice fisherman. It seems only fitting, with my recent fascination with ice fishing, that my piano would come from an expert on the matter.)

On our way home, at Bruce's suggestion, we stopped for dinner at Ticino's underneath the New Glarus Hotel. Very local and very fun. It was even all you can eat spaghetti and meatball night. (But my favorite was the cheese table. There was a table set up near the salad bar with several blocks of different kinds of cheese. Any time the mood should strike, you could saunter over and chop off a hunk of cheese.) It made for the perfect way to finish off our little piano-buying adventure.

When I had woken up that morning, I had no idea I was going to buy a piano that day. But I did. And I slept very well that night.

The next day a crew of professionals delivered our piano.

So guess what.

I'm a grown-up now. I have a piano!

I'm not sure why--more than college degrees or marriage or children or buying a house--having a piano is what definitively marks my status as a real, true, honest-to-goodness grown-up. Perhaps because I so clearly remember when my parents got their piano, and they were definitely grown-ups, so maybe I am too. Perhaps because a piano is so big and difficult to move that it represents the kind of stability grown-ups are supposed to have. Perhaps because a piano fits into the rhythms of family life--Christmas carols, teaching your kids to play chopsticks, the tinkling of piano keys in the background, hymns, piano lessons one day--the kind of family life grown-ups have. Whatever the reason, I love the sense of peace and joy that comes from having a piano in our home.

The funny part is that I don't even play well. I'm what happens when you take lessons for twelve years but don't bother to practice much. Pathetic, I know. But I studied long enough to develop a love and appreciation for music. I also think there's a passion for music in my genes, passed along from my dad. I remember how excited my dad was when he got a piano for his family. I remember how happy he was to sit and play (even though he's not especially good either). And now I am him.

I've brought a piano into our home, and I love it.

P.S. In case you're wondering, the piano is a Kawai studio piano. I grew up playing on a Yamaha, and all of my piano teachers had Yahamas and Kawais. So I was holding out for one or the other, which, to me, feel and sound very similar, if not the same. The piano is in a dark walnut finish. It is not glossy, which is good, because I would never get around to cleaning off the finger prints.

Backyard or bust

With the (possible) advent of spring, today called for a little mandatory backyard time. We didn't spend two million dollars putting that fence in last fall for nothing. David wasn't feeling well and had stayed home from school. But he had perked up by the afternoon, so I sent him and his sister out to enjoy the fresh air. They did not have a choice. Just like old times.

They got right to work in the "garden."

Look! Something green!

Also, those are the WONDERFUL boots I was telling you about.

Mary cheered hooray for the warm weather.

She also saw no reason why she should have to give up her snow shovel even though the snow is melted.

There were discoveries to be made.

"Wow! Look, Mommy! I found dirt!" Imagine that.

Good old-fashioned tag.

This is my girl.

I love her.

This is my boy.

I love him.

We finished the afternoon with a little game of soccer.

By the way, you live in Wisconsin, you learn to do everything in snow boots, including soccer.

Hope you had a happy Monday.

First day of spring

Today is the first day of spring. Of course, the only spring colors we're seeing around here are on Mary's skirt. Right now the world is muddy and soggy and puke brown. But there is in the air the smell of hope. You can't see the rebirth yet, but you can sense the possibility.

To commemorate the day, we hung a spring wreath on the door. (Diana, I think it's the same one you have. Sorry. You hung yours first, but, as usual, you have impeccable taste, and I had to copy you.) It will probably look a little odd with the snow we're supposed to get later this week, but oh well.

Friday was a momentous occasion. Mrs. Q announced that her students no longer have to wear snow pants every day. Snow boots are still a yes. Like I said, the world is a muddy mess. No place for sneakers. But no more snow pants! (Unless it snows, of course.) Hooray! It's the end of an era. (Until it starts again next year.)

I remember, after my family had moved to the Bay Area, my mom commenting on how she thought kids needed the structure of four seasons. I think it was driving her nuts to see my little brothers run around in the temperate California climate coat-free and carefree all year long. She thought it was healthy for a kid to have to put on a jacket occasionally. I think I get it now.

When winter first hit us here, I was bitter. I was bitter that my son had to spend over an hour of his school day every day finding his gloves, changing his footwear, fitting into his snow pants, and struggling with zippers --while his peers back in Texas didn't miss a beat of their recess rhythm. That first week of winter was miserable. It's the only time this whole year David hasn't loved school. But he suddenly hated it. He was completely stressed out. Dealing with velcro and shoes and zippers and sleaves isn't exactly his cup of tea. He dreaded getting changed in and out of snow gear over and over all day long. Really, I have never seen David stressed like that before. And it didn't seem fair to me! Why did he have to suffer like that?

But within a two weeks, the suffering was over. David was a champ. He was among the fastest dressers in kindergarten. He could slip into his snow pants, change into his boots, zip up his coat, put on his hat and gloves, and adjust his hood in two minutes flat. We saw David mature so much this winter. Sure, some of it would have happened regardless of the temperature, but I think mastering all that gear gave him confidence. He also learned the importance of routine and organization. He learned exactly where to hang his snow pants, place his boots, and put his gloves. He learned that if you have a special place for things, and you put those things there every time, you will always be able to find those things when you need them. Remember how I mentioned that we bought David ten pairs of gloves. Yes, we lost a fair amount through the months. But NONE was lost at school. (They were lost in the car or on outings or in our house--usually due to my lack of organization.) Can you believe it?? Isn't it amazing? Last fall I think we went to the lost and found every day. It was just part of the daily routine. But this winter? Not once! I am beaming with pride. I am so proud of David for rising to the occasion. I am grateful (yes, grateful) for all of the practice he had in taking care of and organizing his belongings, and I'm grateful (yes, grateful) for the opportunity he had to conquer a multi-step process (getting dressed for recess). I guess hard winters really do a hearty person make.

With that said, bring on spring. I think my kid earned it.

P.S. Today might be the first day of spring, but it is the last day of spring break. Greg's spring break, that is. Greg, David, and Mary all have different spring breaks. Grrr. Greg spent a lovely week watching kids, doing homework, researching toxic industrial explosions, going to Costco, changing light bulbs, and sweeping out the garage. He has also been following the nuclear plant crisis if Japan very closely. We are here in Wisconsin so he can learn how to quantify risk, like all the risk connected to a nuclear power plant. I'm sure they will have a lot to discuss in class this week. And we all have much to pray about.

Shopping day

David and Mary have been saving their allowance for quite some time. Today was the big day--a trip to Target to spend those precious dollars.

Somewhat disturbingly, Mary kept referring to the money she was going to spend at the store as her "tithing." Don't you love it when you try to teach your kids something and they learn the exact opposite? Since when are God's true church and Target the same thing? (Don't answer that.) Mary couldn't wait to spend her "tithing" on a Disney princess. Sigh. I suppose in a way her dollars were a tithe to the gods of suburban materialism and commercialism (and Target is their temple, right?).

David happily chose two items from the Lego aisle. And Mary proudly brought home her new Ariel doll. While David and Daddy were doing Lego assembly, guess what I got to do.

Play princesses with Mary.

Yippee. My favorite thing. (I assume you're sensing my sarcasm.)

Ariel joined the ranks of Mary's princess dolls, and Mary demanded that we begin "playing princesses." Since apparently all princesses do is sit on chairs waiting to be rescued, I wasn't quite sure what would happen. So I followed Mary's lead. Fortunately, these princesses go to Lego club, build houses, dig for dinosaur bones, teach children how to make necklaces, and check out books from the library.

We are happy to open our home to such industrious princesses.

Science fair initiation

When the science fair sign-up sheet came home, I almost immediately tossed it out. I'd rather stick a fork in my eye than do a science fair project with a five-year-old. But, for some reason, I thought the sign-up sheet would make a lovely addition to my kitchen counter clutter collection. So into the recycling bin it did not go.

Good thing. Because a few days later I wandered into David's room to see him busy with a "science experiment" he had set up on his own. He had a little fan turned on, and he was seeing what kinds of things it would blow away. He was thrilled to show me his "science experiment." That's when I remembered that my kid loves science. And he sees himself as a kid who loves science. It's one of the ways he defines himself.

I like to talk big about how I'm going to support and nurture my children in THEIR interests and help them develop THEIR talents--rather than the interests and talents I like more and/or think are convenient for me--but here I was ready to trash the science fair sign-up sheet without even asking my science-loving kid about it. I felt about two inches tall.

So we signed David up, and we decided he could do the very same experiment he had set up in his bedroom that day. Fortunately, kindergartners aren't judged, and they don't have to use the scientific method. Making observations and organizing information is more than enough. So his idea of testing out different objects with the fan would be perfect. And I loved that it was HIS idea and HIS experiment.

Here is David at the fair with the finished product.

As you can see, I helped with the cutting, typing, and some of the gluing. But the content is all David's. I love it!

This is David explaining his project to the judge.

He was so confident!

David was proud to receive a medal for participating.

I love my little scientist!

So, one science fair down......and how many to go?

Speaking of princesses

Speaking of princesses--with or without sparkly gloves--

Today I was helping out in one of the bilingual kindergarten classes during their Writers' Workshop time. They were planning out a three page book that they will soon write and illustrate.

I was working with an adorable little girl, who I'll call K. She had decided to write a book about princesses. We had the following exchange about what she should write on her three pages. (For your ease, but most of all for my ease, I'm going to record the conversation in English rather than Spanish.)

K titled her book Princesses. Then on her first page she wrote, "Princesses live in a castle."

But then she was stuck. She had no idea what else she could possibly write about princesses.

"Well, what do princesses do?" I asked.

"Wait."

"Okay. Um, what else do they do?"

"Nothing. They just wait. That's what princesses do."

"Um, well, think about what they're doing in the castle."

"Just waiting."

"What are they doing while they are waiting?"

"Oh! I know! They sit in a chair."

"Okay.....What else?"

"Nothing more. They sit in a chair and wait."

"But your princesses need to DO something."

"Princesses don't do anything. They just wait!"

"Well, let's think of something more interesting about princesses for your book. Maybe they leave the castle?"

"No. Princesses are always inside the castle."

"What if a visitor comes?"

"Oh, yes! Like a dragon!"

"Good idea!"

So K wrote, "A dragon comes," on her second page.

This was an interesting a development. What would these passive waiting princesses, sitting on their chairs, do now that a dragon had come to the castle?! Fight? Trick the dragon? Run away? Use a magic potion? Tame the dragon?

I left to help another student, and when I returned, this is what K had written on the final page of her story:

"A prince rescued them."

Ugh.

Mary, grow up to be a teacher. Grow up to be a worm if you so desire. Just don't grow up to be a princess.

When she grows up

Mary told me today that when she grows up she wants to be a princess (with sparkly gloves), a teacher, and a worm.

She also told me that when she's big like a mommy she'll wear boobs.

A book recommendation for today

There will be no green cupcakes, paper shamrocks, or corned beef in this house today. To put it frankly, I just couldn't care less about St. Patrick's Day.

(Besides, we have the SCIENCE FAIR tonight. What a rite of passage for us as parents! I am completely stressing out about whether or not we were able to strike the right balance of giving David enough support to feel successful but letting it be clearly HIS project and HIS success.)

But I thought I would offer a book recommendation today. (I've had a few requests for book recommendations since this post, but, as you can see, I never seem to get around to it.) And what could be more appropriate today than to share my favorite Irish novel?

Ulysses by James Joyce.

Just kidding!!

This here little book is my favorite Irish novel.

Reading in the Dark by Seamus Deane.

It's one of those books that is engaging: you want to move along quickly as the mystery at the story's core unfolds. But the prose is so lovely (Deane is a poet after all) that you want, at the same time, to slow down and savor each page.

The unnamed narrator of the novel is a young boy in Northern Ireland, not long after World War II. He gradually uncovers his family's secrets, discovers their depths, and realizes their sad consequences. In that very Irish way, the political is personal in this book. And in Northern Ireland, the political is close cousins with violence. But Reading in the Dark isn't about Ireland or about politics; it's about people, about a family, and it feels very private and intimate.

One of my favorite things about this book is its portrayal of an earnest, loving, and nurturing father. So rare! (Especially in Irish literature.) The young narrator sees his father treat his wife, the boy's mother, with tenderness, even as he is losing her to mental illness. The father isn't perfect--he's a multifaceted character responding with human emotions to difficult problems--which makes him all the more real and refreshing.

This is a sad, but very tender story in a lovely, engaging, and accessible novel.

If you're not in the mood for green food coloring or green glitter, may I suggest curling up with this book instead.

Survival gear

It is 40 degrees. It may reach 50 degrees today. Most of the snow in our yard has melted. And our furnace isn't clicking on every 20 minutes. What does it all mean?

I'm not stupid enough to think that winter is over. I know how the month of March toys with your emotions. But the locals have started to congratulate us on surviving our first Wisconsin winter. I take their congratulations as a sign that the worst is probably behind us, and spring may be on the way.

This has led me to reflect on how we survived the winter. As some of you may remember, I kind of panicked at the beginning of winter. And it's true that our life turned into this. But we survived! And I am not institutionalized! And I did not once check out the price of plane tickets to Florida. So how did we do it?

It's all about the gear.

1. Mom's boots. I seriously believed I was going to make it through the winter without snow boots. What was I thinking?? That I was going to tiptoe through the snow all winter in ballet flats?! I was crazy grumpy those first few weeks of winter, and I soon realized it was because I had a footwear problem. I coveted these, but I happily settled for a less-stylish and much less expensive pair of boots from Lands' End. And it changed everything! I was no longer the victim! I felt like I could leave the house. I didn't have to tiptoe through parking lots or worry about slipping while juggling kids. My feet stayed warm (and warm toes can go a long way at preventing grumpiness). I could take a fun little romp through the snow with my kids whenever the mood would strike. Also, the boots I bought were high enough to keep my calves warm and protected when I wore my capri-length pants to the gym. I know it sounds silly, but having decent snow boots was empowering! I was suddenly confident in the showdown with winter.
2. Mary's pink boots. I think you've seen pictures of Mary's little Ugg-like boots. (She wore them to the Dells.) They were an impulse buy, and I think they may have been the best thing we purchased all winter. They are the winter equivalent of Crocs--easy on, easy off, and no socks required. We waterproofed them so they would hold up to the elements a little better, which was a good decision. She likes them so much that she generally refused to wear her snow boots. So these pink boots have taken quite a beating this winter. But I will be eternally grateful that Mary's had a pair of boots that she can put on and take off herself. I hope we can find some similar ones next year.
3. David's snow boots. I failed on the snow boot front at the beginning of the season. I had purchased some particularly affordable ones from Lands' End, and they were a disaster. (I'd bought these same boots when David was a toddler, and hated them. I don't know why I repeated my mistake.) Around Christmastime I finally accepted my mistake and bought new boots for the kids. Mary got these, and they are fine. David got these in a camo print, and they are wonderful! Wonderful! WONDERFUL! They are easy on, easy off. No velcro or laces to fiddle with. They keep the snow out, but they come with an extra set of liners just in case. Plus, David likes the camo print. If you have a kid who has to wear snow boots EVERY DAY, I highly recommend investing in some good boots like these.
4. High-quality snow pants. Last spring I had the foresight to buy some high-quality snow bibs for the kids on clearance from Lands' End. I am so glad I did. I didn't appreciate at the time how important it was going to be (especially for David, who has to change in and out of his snow pants three times a day) to have good snow pants. When your kids are using the snow pants every day--and are expected to dress themselves--cheap zippers and cheap lining lead to disasters. You want zippers that will work every time, and lining that won't rip out. I've said good-bye to winter gear from Target, Old Navy, Children's Place and the like. We're regular customers at Lands' End and L.L. Bean now. (Over the years, we've even had REI and Columbia brand kids stuff--but the quality and durability of the kids stuff at Lands' End and L.L. Bean is way better.) Also, I'm glad I spent the extra money and bought snow bibs instead of snow pants. Obviously, the snow bibs keep the snow out better. But what has been more important is the absence of a button or snap at the waist. A snow bib is one long zip up, and then you're done, which my young self-dressing kids (and their teachers) appreciate.
5. Cheap knit gloves. This was Mrs. Q's suggestion, and it has been great! I bought ten matching pairs of those cheap knit stretchy gloves. I send David to school with three pairs of them every day. That way, every time he goes outside, he has a dry pair of gloves. Also, they are so inexpensive that if he loses a few over the months (as is inevitable), it doesn't matter. We have plenty of replacements. It's been a relief not to be a stress case about David keeping track of his gloves. If he repeatedly lost one glove of a good quality $15 pair, you bet I would turn into a stress case (and a Mean Mom). I know that sending my son out into the Wisconsin winter with nothing but stretchy gloves may seem like a recipe for frostbite. But he's outside at recess for no more than 15 or 20 minutes. And I've noticed that once it gets in the single digits or below, they do stay in for recess. No matter how good the gloves, chances are they will be wet by the end of the first recess. They may be thin, but at least David gets a dry pair of gloves for every recess. That seems more appealing than having David put on some heavy, soggy, cold pair of gloves for second recess and the same even soggier pair to go home. Besides, David really likes the dexterity he has with the thinner gloves. We all appreciate Mrs. Q's suggestion. (David does have a good pair of waterproof mittens for skiing and snow fort building. We just don't send them to school.)

I am not finished thinking about winter. You probably have another post or two coming with reflections on the cold. But at this moment I am going to stop thinking snow pants, and start thinking spring.

Justin Bieber

Trust me, I'm even more shocked than you to see that name heading up a blog post.

But yesterday, in response to my inquiry about his school day, David responded, "Oh, we played Justin Beaver."

"Excuse me, what?"

"During free choice, we played Justin Beaver."

"Did you say that you played Justin Bieber?"

"Yeah."

I totally succeeded in keeping my giggles inside. (Phew!)

"Okay. How do you play Justin Bieber?"

"You build a stage and dance on it."

"Who did you play Justin Bieber with?"

"My best friends."

"Did you play with girls?"

"No, just us boys."

Then I finally asked the obvious question.

"How do you know who Justin Bieber is???"

"I dunno. I just know Justin Beaver. I think everybody does."

Good point.

"Do you know what Justin Bieber does?"

"Yeah. Justin Beaver sings and writes songs and dances."

"You're right. You do know about Justin Bieber."

"We like Justin Beaver. But some of the big kids don't, and that's not very nice. They should like him. But some big kids make fun of him. It's those first-graders."

I didn't have the heart to point out that he'll be one of those first-graders next year. And somehow I doubt that he and his friends will spend spend their time "playing Justin Beaver." Can my sweet, innocent boy stay in kindergarten forever?

And now I am going to end this post. I must now treat myself for shock, as I just typed "Justin Bieber" 8 times, and that doesn't include any of the "Justin Beavers."

Pi(e) Day

The remnants of last night's Pi Day celebration . . .

Not only did David and Mary decorate pi, but they also lovingly drew their own.

This is David's. I love it. He was careful to point out that pi has two monkey tails. That kid has definitely been immersed in D'Nealian handwriting (although I'm not sure a lovely pi symbol justifies the torture).

Now look at the little pi symbols Mary drew. She did them all by herself.

Aren't they sweet? I never knew my three-year-old could melt my heart with a pi.

Thanks to the friends and family who joined us for pie yesterday!

P.S. I have also enjoyed The-Day-After-Pi-Day:

3.15 = Pie for breakfast

A week ago

A week and a day ago my kids spent their morning this way...

...in a hotel in suburban Chicago.

It was a quick trip, less than 24 hours, that included the usual stops at the temple and the Lego Discovery Center. (I think we've finally convinced the kids that the temple is at least marginally more important than Legoland.)

This time we also added the Kohl's Children's Museum to our itinerary. Here are some pictures, and consider yourself lucky that they are not accompanied by a rant about hovering parents who coax their nineteen-month-olds to do activities that are years beyond their developmental level thus making the whole experience miserable for slightly older children who know how to share and use their imaginations and are not protected by a cadre of parents and grandparents helicoptering around. Yes, I'm getting old and crusty, and, no, I don't think this it's funny when your one-year-old steals my daughter's tomato for the thirteenth time so perhaps you should stop trying to teach that little guy to share since it's two years down the developmental road and instead take him to play in the baby area, oh, and take the five adults hovering him with you, they're clogging up the place. Wait, I promised pictures with no rant.

And those were the pictures. If I'd posted them a week ago I would have had quite the rant to go along with them. (Poor Greg had to listen to me for 246 miles.) Fortunately, after waiting a week---and admitting to myself that had we lived in America when David was a wee toddler, we would have taken him to plenty of children's museums and plopped him in the middle of plenty of exhibits meant for older children and there undoubtedly would have been grandparents in tow as well---the boiling blood in my veins has simmered down.

I supposed waiting a week is the blogging equivalent of taking death breaths and counting to ten.

By the way, it was a fun museum. I just don't recommend visiting on a Saturday morning when most of the children are under age two and there are four adults for every child.

Spelunking (and more)

My dad is here!

We took him to Cave of the Mounds.

First, the kids spent some time searching for crystals, fossils, and gold.

Then it was down into the cave.

It was a great cave to visit!

Then we let the kids pick out a little geode. They watched as they were cracked open.

This is what they found inside. Crystals!

You can't come to Wisconsin and spend the whole time underground. So we took Grandpa Mike on a tour of campus. Naturally, we stopped at Babcock Hall for some fresh ice cream.

(Those ribbons in the background? They're for cheese making.)

We also headed out towards Picnic Point. Brrr...it was cold.

You can just barely, barely see the capitol poking up, just to the right of Greg's shoulder.

Our tour concluded with a glimpse of State Street and the Capitol Square--a busy place yesterday--and a trip to Mary's favorite pizza place. (Yes, Mary makes the decisions in this family. She has the most piercing whine.)

My dad leaves today. It was a quick visit. But all of our dreams came true: David got to take Grandma Mike to do something "scientific," Mary got to have her planned movie night with Grandpa--popcorn included--AND have a painting party, Greg and I saw TWO good movies (True Grit and The Adjustment Bureau), and my dad, well, he got to be with US. (I mean, what's better than that?)