If I didn't blog it...

did it really happen?

Here are some things that possibly didn't happen since I didn't blog about them.  Though, now that I finally am blogging about them, their existence is no longer questionable.  (Hmmm.  So if I blog about how I ran the Madison Marathon barefoot on Sunday, does that mean I really did?  Even if I didn't?  Oh!  And if I never, ever blog about yelling at my kids or feeding them marshmallows for lunch--wow, what a wonderful mother that would make me.)

Anyway, here are a few happenings (really real ones) from the last few weeks.

FLOWERS!

Finally, finally, finally, after an agonizingly long wait, we got blooms in our yard. 

This is our first spring in this house, so it was a surprise to see what would appear.  Each day after school we would climb out of the car, inspect the tight tulip buds, and speculate on their color.

This is what appeared one day.  We shouted for joy!  It was a long winter.

Mary took the above picture for me.

Then, she was so excited about the flowers (weren't we all?), that she wanted to pose with them.

Oh, how the tulips brightened our hearts!  We thought we might actually see spring after all.

Speaking of bright hearts, this little girl is my sunshine.

CAMP OUT!

Greg took David on a camp out with our church.  Even though it was called a "father-sons" camp out, Greg and I both thought Mary should get to go too.  Except that would have required upgrading from our small 2-person backpacking tent.  And I was feeling cheap.  And I was not looking forward to driving the two and half hours to the campsite at 11 pm to pick up Mary should she change her mind about the whole camping thing.  And it was raining.  (Mary is not a fan of uncomfortable weather.)  So Greg and David went camping.  There is not much to tell.  They slept, it rained, they came home.  Mary and I stayed home and painted our toenails.


MONTESSORI MARY!

We got to visit Mary's school again one evening.  She showed us a few of her favorite lessons.

Her absolute fave these days is carrot cutting.  Look at her go!

Peeling.

Chopping.

Eating.

Washing.

Then everything is put back in its place.

  

Beautiful!


Among other lessons, she also demonstrated paper punching.  Here she works on South America by first tracing it and then punching tiny holes along the outline. Finally--not pictured--she gently tears out the continent and glues it on another paper.  Great fine motor skill practice!

Mary loves to count, and here she works with the number rods.  This is a good old Montessori original.  The idea is that children learn numbers have different sizes.  (Nowadays in edu-speak I think this is called "number sense.")  The rod with ten sections in a whole lot bigger than the rod with one section.

Mary planned for days which lessons she would show us.  She beams with pride in her classroom.  We loved sharing a special night in her classroom.  We are so proud of Mary!  (David was a good sport about playing in the other room so we could focus on Mary--we're proud of David too.)


So.  Flower, camping, and cutting carrots.  I blogged it; therefore, it happened.

I have a few more May happenings to share yet.  Let the blogging continue...

Mourning this morning

Tio Dave and Tia Ale left this morning.

We are very sad.  Our house feels empty without them.

But we have happy memories in our hearts.

Brat Fest 2011

Hi.  I told you I'd be back for this--

In case you're wondering, that there is the Black Star Drumline.  So great!  (Much better than the aging boomers playing Janis Joplin covers.)  Every festival has a musical gem waiting for you to discover.  (My dad taught me that.) I loved that we stumbled upon the Black Star Drumline.  (You can see their summer performance schedule here.)

But the real star of Brat Fest is, of course, the brat.

When you come in the morning, you don't have to wait in line very long for your brat--

See?  There are advantages to having your brat for brunch.  Plus, you make it home in time for naps.

Actually, I think the real star of Brat Fest is this--

The condiments.

There must be half a dozen or more different kinds of mustard: yellow, white, honey, chipotle, italian herb, etc.  I went with this--

Good old straightforward spicy mustard.  Yum.

Under the condiment tent you also find chopped onions, pickle relish, and sauerkraut.  (Oh, and ketchup.)  Yum--

I highly recommend the sauerkraut.  (Now that I know from happy personal experience to #1 order a Philly cheesesteak with whiz and #2 not to order a brat with ketchup, I pretty much know everything I need to run for President.)

Do you want to know what made this Brat Fest super terrific?

Tio and Tia!

Yes, they're here!  Best Memorial Day weekend ever!  (Our family is in heaven!)

Pictures from the Big Brat Fest Bumper Car Battle--

You can bet there will be many more picture of Dave and Ale and the smiling faces of my children to come.

As for our morning, it also included a roller coaster ride

a carousel ride

(love the lemonade in Greg's pocket)

ice cream

and the Wienermobile!

Happy Memorial Day weekend!



P.S.  Greg's Brat Fest joy started yesterday morning--when he volunteered to work the 5 am shift for our church's Boy Scout Troop.  Brat Fest is one huge fundraiser.  It's staffed by loads of volunteers, and their wages go the nonprofit group they belong to.  So Greg's ten bucks an hour went to Boy Scout Troop 201.  Fundraising doesn't get any more productive, efficient, and painless as that.  (I think execs at Johnsonville Sausage could donate to the campaign of Kim Jong-il and we'd still participate.  Anyone who's had to come up with/execute a Scout fundraiser would understand how this is just too good to pass up.)

P.P.S.  When Mary orders a "hot dog with no pickle," this is what she means--

A hot dog with no hot dog.  Something tells me this girl isn't going native any time soon.

One final Mother's Day post

Last post until Memorial Day!

First, I just want to say how much I love this awesome mom (and awesome friend), even though I will never (ever!) eat her cupcakes.

Now, to the matter at hand.  David brought home the perfect Mother's Day gift.  Perfect!  Want to see it?

Let me show you the picture, and then we'll get to the really good stuff.

I love the details.  (If David has learned one thing in kindergarten, it's that it's all about DETAILS.  Come on, you current and former English teachers.  How many times have you scribbled--in purple or green ink because red is deemed emotionally scarring--More details!!!!! ?  Well, they start early in this school district, and David is catching on.)

The light David drew is a perfect hybrid of the light in our dining room and the light in our kitchen.  The couch is square, like ours, and, though it's hard to see, he got the color pretty darn close.  He remembered the throw pillows and the rug.  He also pointed out to me that he drew my favorite shirt.  I'm not exactly what shirt he drew.  But I do always have on layers--sweaters or hoodies or jackets.  And it looks like he's going for some kind of  layered effect.  And hair pulled back, of course.  Love it!

Now, on to my favorite part.  The rough draft.  (Self-proclaimed fan of the writing process here.)  Isn't it beautiful?  Look how organized it is.  I am swooning.

Do you know what you're seeing??

It's a paragraph.  A perfect paragraph!

Look.  It has a topic sentence.  (A very sweet topic sentence, at that.)

Three supporting sentences.

And a concluding sentence.

Beautiful!

A topic sentence, three supporting sentences, and a closing sentence.  It brings tears to my eyes!  (My son gave me a topic sentence for Mother's Day!)  I am swooning again.  There could be no better gift in the world than this beautiful, perfect paragraph.

What makes it even better is the amount of work that it took for David.  Handwriting does not come easily for him.  He must work at every letter.  What patience and persistence this must have taken him.

Look at these letters.  See how hard he is working to make the "I" and the "l" and the "k" go all the way from sky to ground?  And the others only halfway?  He even wrote a silly D'Nelian "k."

Look at the word "best."  He got the "e" and the "s" just right--and those are tricky letters.

What effort!


Want to see my favorite word?  It's "watch."

He sounded it out perfectly: W-O-CH.  (If only it weren't for our silly often-un-phonetic language.)  I also see that he at first capitalized it because he had moved to a new line, but then he realized that just because it was a new line didn't mean it was a new sentence.  So he fixed the "w" and made it lower-case.  Isn't it grand?

This David's favorite part.  His name.

Apparently writing your name super small is super cool.

I am so, so proud of my son!  The graphite on that paper means so much to me.  All the effort and hard work and learning and progress it represents.  I love my kid.  I think he is the best darned boy in the universe.  (It's only logical--I am the best mom, you know.)

And I look forward to many more topic sentences.

Be

This post is for my mom.  (Don't worry, I didn't forget to post something in her honor with all this Mother's Day hoopla.  Here it is.)  This is something my mom and I have laughed about on many occasions.

The word "be" has a special place in our home.  You see, the whole figuring out how to conjugate the verb "to be" has been a rough road for David.  In fact, "am,"  "was," and "were" have no place in his vocabulary.  So he says things like

"I be playing."
"I be in my room."
"The computer be broken."

To manage past tense, he uses the word "did," saying things like

"I did be at school."
"I did be the first one to finish!"
"I did be sad."
"Mary did be hitting me."
"You did be late."

It was cute as a four-year-old preschooler (last year, when we lived with my mom) . . . but as a soon-to-be first grader?  Not so much.  But we're working on it.

Meanwhile, Mary started talking like her brother.  Does she choose to speak like her English major mother?! Of course not!  She mimics her five-year-old brother.  So now Mary says things like

"I be crying."
"I be on my bed."
"I did be picking daisies."
"My baby did be lost downstairs."
"David did be mean."
"Those flowers did be dying."

Now, Mary, overachiever that she is, has taken BE to a new level.  She's begun replacing first syllables with the word "be."  So

"gymnastics" is now "be-nastics"
"forgot" is now "be-got"
"banana" is now "be-nana"

It's sort of cute.  But sort of not.  Seriously, when I hear a sentence like, "I be-got my be-nana when I did be at be-nastics,"  I want to go BE-BONKERS!

(Love you, Mom.)

Mother's Day recap

For the record.  My Mother's Day 2011.

I like flowers (these, for example) on Mother's Day.

The kids came through for me.  Mary picked "daisies" for me.  Some are in a vase for a bouquet, and others are in another vase for a "science experiment."  (I love that my kids assume that I would love a science experiment for Mother's Day.)

Yesterday Greg took David to the store for some nice, cut flowers.  David instead chose this enormous pot of petunias.

He was bursting with excitement.  He helpfully pointed out that there are three different colors of flowers--red, white, and purple.  I love it!  Mostly because the smile on his face was bigger than the pot of flowers.  (Also, a few flowers can go a long way.)

Yesterday, while David was crashed on the couch, Greg and Mary walked to the chic, gourmet chocolate factory behind our house to procure some special sweetness for my special day.

This stuff is D-I-V-I-N-E.

First, it comes in this cute bag.

And inside the bag is this cute box.

But, oh my goodness, it's all about what's inside.

As you can see, I couldn't resist enjoying two before I took out my camera.

Seriously, these chocolates make Godiva taste like soap.

In part it's because they have practically no shelf life.  No ingredients to prolong their shelf life.  Pure, pure heaven.  They must be purchased at the factory.  And enjoyed right away.

Enjoying them right away is not a problem.

Though, I will say that they are so wonderful, that one does not wish to scarf them down.  You eat them ever so slowly, savoring each moment of the experience.  You never know if you will eat one filled with caramel or elderberry or jasmine-flavored dark chocolate.  (We do request an assortment without tea, coffee, or liquor--that whole Word of Wisdom thing.)

I am not at liberty to tell you the name of the factory, as it is right behind my house, and I'm not sure I want to be quite that specific on my blog about where I live.  But, no worries.  If you come visit me, I will take you there.  (Just be sure to brace yourself for the sticker shock.)  So divine.  If cheese and brats aren't tempting--trust me, it's worth a trip to Wisconsin for this chocolate.

Now, back to the holiday at hand.  Mother's Day!

With a little prodding, Mary marched up to the front of the chapel today at church to sing two sweet songs with all of the other children.  She looked much the same as she did during her dance recital.  Despite the fact that all she did was stand there and put her hands in her mouth, it melted my heart and made me the proudest woman in the world.  (What is with Mother's Day??  Rather, what is so magical about seeing your kids up in front of people?)  David was home sick.  Too bad because I would have loved to have seen him standing there silently with his hands in his mouth too.  (And I would have thought him the most talented child up there.)

I did not receive the requisite potted plant at church.  Instead, the money to buy flowers for the women at church was donated to a local woman's shelter.  (Excellent idea.)

This evening Greg, with Mary's help, of course, made us all yummy calzones.

Then come bedtime, I listened to him yelling at the kids to get on their pajamas and brush their teeth and take their medicine and stay in their bedrooms and go to sleep.  It was much better than listening to myself yell at them.

Mother's Day is the perfect day to take a break from being a mother.

Thanks, Greg.

Thoughts for today

As promised, I am temporarily emerging from my blogging hibernation in honor of Mother's Day.  Expect an explosion of posts (which began last night), and then I am returning to my disorganized closets until Memorial Day.

This afternoon I find myself reflecting on my children.  It seems appropriate: I am a mother because of them.

***

First, Mary.

My daughter.

She is complicated, often a mystery.  Mary is intensely self-aware, and her heart is very tender.  So she has already become adept at building walls to protect her tender soul.  Walls of defiance, walls of screaming or silence, of tears or hysterical laughter.  Walls of apathy or bossing.  Walls of fake giggles and outrageous goofiness.  Walls of perfection and accomplishment. Walls of strict obedience or walls of flagrant disobedience. This makes her complex, and these layers of protection leave me baffled.  She often hides her true feelings, even from herself.  Sometimes I don't know if I am up against one of her walls--or if I am seeing straight into her heart.  I am ever losing my footing, lost in the maze of her protective fortress.  Unsure if I should simply bash it down--because those walls are part of her too--or help make it stronger.

But Mary is not a complete mystery.  I know with certainty that she loves life, that she is eager to learn.  She ever strives for more, and she does not settle.  She is both tender and strong.  I know that Mary is smart.  Her mind is bright and sharp.  I know that her nature is joyful.  And her spirit is wise.  I know that Mary is an amazing human being and a beloved daughter of God.

After she was born, I was a mess.  But still I found quiet moments alone with her.  I would rock her for what seemed like hours and stare into her beautiful, sleeping face.  God would speak to my spirit in these peaceful moments, and I knew my daughter was someone special, someone exceptional.  What a privilege to be her mother.

She sends my heart soaring, and my soul is not complete without her.

***

Next, David.

My little boy, who is not so little.

He is growing, and he is changing...in unexpected ways.  As a toddler and a preschooler, David was a master of coping, of letting things go.  His high energy and impulsive behavior often hid the fact that at his core he was an easy-going little guy.  But no more.  He is sensitive, quick to anger, quick to cry.  He ruminates and broods, he blames and whines.  I suspect that this is part of his process of growing up, of learning to find his way in the world, of maturing.  It's just happening faster than I can keep up with.

With David's deepened sensitivity has come a growing spiritual maturity and a strong desire to do what's right.    He has become more consciously aware of God's love for him, and he is eager to learn of God's plan.  He is thoughtful, happily declaring at Easter time that Judas is really a good guy, explaining it this way:  "Jesus wanted us all to be Resurrected, so He needed to be Resurrected first, so Jesus wanted to die because He had to die, so really he wanted the bad buys to find him, so Judas did a good thing by telling the bad guys where He was. We don't have to say that Judas made a bad choice!"  (What do you say to that?)  David is eager to see the good in everyone.

David is becoming more aware of good and bad, and he is increasingly concerned about making good choices.  He is also realizing that it can be hard to choose the right sometimes.  But he does a pretty good job of it.  I can see in him such goodness.  I am so proud of him.

 I am also happy that he still wants to hold my hand in the parking lot.  And cuddle with me on the couch.

Just when I thought I had him figured out, he grew up.  And I feel like I am starting over, that I am just as lost and overwhelmed as the day we came home from the hospital.  But I knew that day I loved him.  And today I love him even more.  David may have his ups and downs, but my love grows exponentially.

***

When I started this post, I was going to say, "I want to write about the people who made me a mother."  But technically it was Greg who made me a mother, if you know what I mean.  So I'm going to write about him too, my partner in parenting.

I married a very good man.

A while ago I promised you a story about Greg and the Word of Wisdom.  Here it is.

When Greg was but a wee 2nd Lieutenant (read here to see how wee a 2nd Lieutenant is), he was deployed to a super secret location in Jordan.  (The super secret part isn't all that pertinent to the story, but it sounds kind of cool.)  One afternoon he was invited to a meeting with an important officer in the Jordanian Air Force.  Not only was this guy a colonel (if you didn't already, see here), he was also the commander of the base where Greg and his American pals were about to embark on implementing some pretty major plans.  The commander, in a gesture of hospitality, offered Greg some tea.  Problem.  As members of the Church of Jesus  Christ of Latter-day Saints, we don't drink tea.  (Please don't ask me to explain why--just go with it.)  Here is the moment of truth.  Does Greg politely decline the tea and risk offending the colonel?  A man in a position of power, a man who could make Greg's life complicated and miserable?  Does he risk offending the commander of the base where the Americans' presence is secret and tenuous but necessary for upcoming missions?  Or does Greg politely accept the tea...because, really, what's a few sips of tea?  As Greg tells the story, a thousand thoughts were rushing through his mind in that moment.  But then he saw clearly.  He politely declined the tea, explaining that it was forbidden by his religious code of health.  The commander inquired as to what religion, and Greg told him he was Mormon.  The commander's face lit up, and he said, "Oh!  I know about Mormons!  You are much like us.  We, too, have a law of health.  We, too, try to live modestly.  And, like you, family is very important to us.  Mormons and Muslims have many similarities."  Greg breathed a sigh of relief.  He knew he had won the man's respect, and, more importantly, Greg had not compromised his beliefs.  The moral of the story is to be true.  Be true to your beliefs, whatever they are.

The other moral of the story is that I married a good man.

Not surprisingly, this good man is also a very good father.  I would not want to raise children with anyone else.

Here is a picture of that good man of mine, moments after he made the jump from 2nd Lieutenant to 1st Lieutenant.  (Who is that lady with him???)

Yup.  The father of my children.

I wouldn't want it any other way.

***

Thank you, Greg, for our beautiful children.

And a lovely Mother's Day.