Katie's School Paper on New Year's Eve or How My Children Are Determined To Make Us Look As Bad As Possible In Public

Compare and contrast your New Year's Eve traditions with those in the story.

(I've put Katie's answer in descending order for maximum impact.)

My New Year's Eve Tradition

3. I stay up late
2. I stay home
1. I drink!


I asked Katie why in the world she wrote, "I drink!" She explained that she gets to drink all the pop she wants, and that it is her favorite part of New Years. She claims that she's never heard of adults referring to imbibing too much alcohol as "drinking." She claims that she figured her teacher would know that she meant, "I drink orange soda," and so she didn't feel the need to elaborate.

The fact is, though, that I drink=I like pop is self evident to nobody but Katie. I can only guess what her teacher must think.

In the car this morning

Abbie, to me: The stench in the air is what makes my breath so stinky!

Yes, she really did say, "stench."

My gift to you (sort of)

I believe that podcasts are one of the greatest gifts God has given to housewives (aside from grace, and children and that kind of stuff.) You can listen to them on headphones (so you can actually listen to them, because your children aren't trying to scream over the radio. They are talking in an excessively loud voice, but nothing unusual, and the younger ones still don't understand that the slight movement of your finger is you turning the volume way up to drown them out. Also, you don't have to worry so much about the content of your podcast. I once forgot myself and listened in the car to an entire interview on NPR with the creator of The Wire. Never again. The questions Claire spent the next three days asking me were way over my pay grade.)

Another benefit to podcasts are that they make cleaning fun! A dirty bathroom all by itself is a horror, but combine an amusing little show on headphones with a DVD of Bear in the Big Blue House for the kids, and you have an hour of actual enjoyment. The fact that it ends with a toilet that doesn't make you gag just seems like a bonus!

Finally, podcasts are (for the most part) free! A little sprinkling of fun, a dab of actual...you know, smart-making stuff, the headphones for privacy and peace.....and it doesn't cost a dime!

My only problem is that I burn through my favorite podcasts at an alarming rate. I was seriously bereaved when Penn Jillette (of Penn and Teller) cancelled his radio show - that was an hour of podcast a day that I could count on being amusing and sometimes even, um, you know....smart-making. I have discovered something that has just blown me away, though, and I feel the need to share. Dr.Peter Kreeft has a podcast!

I have a couple of his books, but I've never actually read them. His name vaguely makes me think of Kraft, and any association with mac and cheese at this point makes me slightly nauseous. I found his article about his daughter's brain tumor very helpful, I think I may have even linked to it from here at the time, but for some reason I never looked into the guy any further.

Well, his talks are a revelation. His podcasts are the recordings of live talks he has given around the country, and he is an excellent speaker. If you are looking for a mental pick-me-up, this is the place to find it. Check it out (you can also find these in itunes by searching for "Kreeft" under "podcasts." Please, you will be so glad you did.

(By the way, this guy is a philosopher. I hesitate to mention it, because I'm sure some people will hear that and think, "Eh." But he's easy to understand - even for a woman who has spent the past 8 years allowing her children to wear mismatched socks. He surfs! He loves CS Lewis and Tolkien! He's a Redsocks fan! Nothing scary here. :)

Insofar as we think about the method, we're not doing it. Insofar as you think about what notes you are playing, you're not playing them. Total self-forgetfulness, total honesty and total love is the most effective apologetic.
Peter Kreeft

Found objects

Discovered laying around the kitchen:

Beth's paper from school
Imagine you are at your best friend's house and he or she won't share a toy with you. Write a letter to try and pursuade him or her to share.

Dear Ehen,
Can I share a toy gun whith you? We could play star wares and pretend to shout bad guys. We could pretend to be in dinisor time and shout dinisores. We could pretend to be in a forest and shout pretend tigers and liones. It could be fun!
Your friend,
Elizabeth

Katie's notes to herself
QS for (her student teacher)
1. Do you have a pet?
2. How old are you?
3. Are you going to become a teacher?
4. Do you have an older sister?
5. Do you have a younger sister?
6. Do you have an older brother?
7. Do you have a younger brother?
8. How many is their in all including you in your family?
9. Do you like teaching?
10. Do you like answering questions?
11. Is their a pacific subject you want to teach?
12. Do you get to grade papers?
13. Do you like telling us what to do?
14. Do you like our class?
15. Do you like reccess?

(These questions, by the way, aren't for a school assignment or anything. Katie just wants to know. She's left plenty of space for more questions should she happen to think up any more. I hope the student teacher is provided with supernatural patience.)

Romance

Happy St. Valentine's Day! We are all sick here, so we kept things pretty low-key. I made chocolate-filled pastries for breakfast (which the kids hated) and a flourless chocolate-hazelnut cake with coffee ice cream for dessert (which the kids hated), and Chris whipped up some perfectly cooked delmonico steaks with a rosemary wine sauce for dinner (which the kids hated), so I would say that V-day around here was a success.

Claire began the day by inventing a song that has stuck in my head all. day. long. The lyrics are (frighteningly) as follows:
The girlfriends! And the boyfriends!
They love each other!
They love each other, and they marry each other!
Oh the girlfriends and the boyfriends!

Later that afternoon, Chris and I took advantage of a quiet moment to exchange cards. Every year we just write little letters to each other for Valentine's Day, so we both read our cards and then met in the middle of the kitchen to give each other a hug. As I went up on my tiptoes to give my husband a little kiss for Valentine's Day a voice suddenly piped out loudly from the bathroom beside us.
"I'm going to make a poopie!" yelled Abbie.
We paused, then smiled and rolled our eyes at each other before I went up on my tiptoes again.
"It's a big one!" immediately came that distinctive little voice, "Wow, it's pretty stinky in here!"

It was very romantic.

On top of everything else, poor little Lucy is very sick. She hasn't been sleeping well, and the poor thing has just been exhausted and frustrated all day. So here's a parting picture of tired little Lucy, asleep in her highchair just before dinner.

Notice, as well, how I've subtly managed to place that gorgeous flower arrangement in every picture? Chris very much so surprised me with that, as we usually really only do the card thing. (The flower delivery guy was impressed as well, I could tell, since he came to the front door: the door we never use because the path that leads to it was long ago reclaimed by the - muddy- earth, and the wooden steps that connect to it are, besides shedding half of the peeled white paint, warped and sagging, preventing the screen door from latching. So this man, in order to present me with this huge bouquet of flowers, had to stand on those rickety steps while I first had to kick all of the coats into the living room to access the door, and then had to un-do the bungee cord that we've tastefully employed to keep the screen door from flying away. I'm guessing that he was thinking the flower-money would have been better employed on other things, perhaps a bungie cord that doesn't clash with the decor. I was just happy with the flowers, though!)

Here you go, Andy!

Chris had his first cooking class, "knife skills" on Monday but he had to miss it. It was really a shame.

He missed the class because he sliced off the top of his finger while chopping herbs.

And actually, the herbs aren't supposed to be chopped at all - lightly pinching the stem and running your fingers down it cause the thyme to simply fall off in perfect little flakes.

So, it was a real shame that he missed that class.

The jury (me) is still out on whether he needs to go see a doctor or not. The top of the finger wasn't technically severed; it is still hanging on by a thread, like Nearly Headless Nick's neck. Part of his nail came off, but it is still attached to the flap of rogue skin hanging off of his finger, and that seems.....uh, not ideal, in my opinion. The attendant at the gas station claims that Chris doesn't need to see no stinkin' doctor, though, so what do I know.

In any case, his brother naturally wants to see the wound. Every single picture I took is fuzzy, for some reason, but it gives you the general idea. Hope you're impressed, Andy. As to everyone else, you might want to avert your eyes.

There is charisma, and then there is scary, sold-your-soul, mesmerizing charisma. You decide.

Beth loves words. She loves learning what big words mean, and integrating them into her vocabulary. She also just loves the way some words sound, and she'll often repeat new words to herself over and over as she is doing chores, just for the pure joy the sound makes.

Yesterday, as she was doing her homework she began to repeat something over and over. "Barack Obama," she said. "Barack Obama. Barackobama. Barackobama."

"Where did you hear that?" I asked her.

"On the news. I think it's the name of some guy. Is he the new president?"

No, I told her, he isn't. At least not yet. Beth lost interest and went back to her homework, until a few minutes later I heard it again. She couldn't help herself.

"Barack Obama," she said as she scribbled the answer to a math question, "Barack Obama. Barackobama."

She likes what she sees

Abbie, to her reflection in the mirror:

You are golden!

I am golden!

I love you, golden girl!

She then blew herself a kiss and wandered away.

There really is such a thing as too much self-esteem.

It's all over, baby

Lucy is officially walking.

She is nine months old.

Heaven help us.

Outside of the Castle of Miracles

Outside of the Castle of Miracles
Originally uploaded by moleshollow

Let's see if I've done this right.

If I have, these pictures should show you where we have been for the past week! Look for a huge old post soon detailing how wonderful the trip was, and in particular how wonderful both the Make a Wish Foundation and Give Kids the World Village are!!!!

Flickr

This is a test post from , a fancy photo sharing thing.

Time for a break

Things have been kind of crazy around here lately, so I think I'm going to take a break from the blog for a while. Check back in a month or two, hopefully I'll be back in form by then.

And I know it needs to be said: No, I am not pregnant. :)

trying to wink

Sometimes I can forget that she is still such a little girl!

On the way to school this morning, Katie and I had the following exchange:

Katie: There is something that I have been keeping secret, but I think I should tell you.
Me: (trying very hard to keep my voice neutral) Okay....
Katie: I don't want my friends to know this.
Me: Well, I can promise to not tell your friends, of course.
Katie: Okay. Well....(in a whisper) I think I can breathe underwater.

The healing power of Rock-n-Roll

Yesterday was a crappy day. I'll spare you the gory details, but it began with a roaring fight about a baby Panda bear at 7am, and slouched to a close with a defective diaper and a shirt, pants and socks (mine) drenched in urine at a public event.

Once the girls were in bed, however, and I dragged myself down the steps to exchange a few words with my husband (responsible for all of this, in a sense, because half of the genes that went into creating these little monsters came from him!) everything turned around.

Why? Because of this:




It is the best video game ever made!!! Anything that can take a tired, ragged housewife who faintly smells like baby pee and turn her into a Rock god is on the side of the Angels, if you ask me. I have no talent when it comes to videogames, and I bring Chris' scores down because I can't move out of the "easy" mode, but.......when the crowd starts singing along to the music I really, truly feel like I am making -- I am invincible.

The view from my room

This is my constant scenery these days: Lucy hanging on to my leg. She is really under the impression that baby-hood is for suckers, and she's determined to claw her way out of it as quickly as possible. She started crawling around 5 months, then quickly began to pull up on things. At 6 months old, she can already cruise all around the house, provided there is something to hold on to. Her favorite pass time is to seek me out, and then prevent me from moving anywhere by pulling up on my leg and then refusing to let go.

All of this precocity, however, comes with a price. Lucy's life is in constant danger, because my brain cannot keep up with her physical acumen. She fell down the steps three weeks ago because I misjudged how quickly she could make it from my side to the basement door. Yesterday, she again fell down the steps because it never, ever occurred to me that she could crawl all the way up them.

I was digging around in Katie and Beth's closet when it happened. The girls had all been playing in the living room, but suddenly - as a herd is want to do - they all moved upstairs. They closed the door to the steps, but I guess Lucy felt left out because when Beth opened the door she discovered the little thing almost at the top of the flight. Lucy was startled by the door, however, and she jerked back and fell all the way to the bottom. I heard the scream (both Lucy's and Beth's - who was almost as upset) and I somehow made it to the bottom to scoop Lucy up. I honestly don't know how I got down the steps - it felt like I just jumped down the entire flight, but something tells me that's just the adrenaline muddying my memory. My heart can't take much more of this, though, and I am pretty sure that Lucy's head really ought not take much more. So, back in the kitchen it is, acting as a human crutch for my baby who so desperately wants to learn how to walk. At least I know she's not in mortal peril when she's hanging onto my leg.

Walkin' in a Winter Wonderland

It is snowing today! Chris got a good crackling fire going around noon, Claire and Abbie and Lucy spent over an hour staring out of the windows just watching the snow falling, and Beth's teacher reprimanded me for not putting her in boots. * Winter has officially arrived!

The girls came up with an awesome game outside: they made complex mazes out of their footprints in the snow, and we spent a good long time trying to find our way out of them. I thought my maze was pretty cool - it took me a good 20 minutes to make it, and it wound all the way around our yard, but the girls told me that it was too easy. I will get my revenge the next time it snows.

*(Come on! Who needs to go through the hassle of boots in order to walk two feet from the door to the car, and another 10 feet on - shovelled!!-cement from the car to the school door. Her feet don't get wet. She hardly even needs a coat, she spends so little time in the actual outdoors.)

Is waterboarding at the Dentist's next?

I'm kind of weird about my eyes. I recognize this. I freely admit that a fear of ceiling fans (which could fall and slice your eyes apart while you sleep) and umbrellas (a dozen spikes hovering just above the level of your eyes??? Hello!!) is not normal. When the girls get pink eye the medication is administered by Chris, because I just can't bring myself to do it. If Chris is not available I drop the liquid near their eyes and then tilt their heads until it runs in more or less the right direction.

So. I'm kind of weird about my eyes. I've put off going to see the eye doctor because I know that they use eye drops to dilate your pupils, and I wasn't sure that I could handle it. My eyesight is not improving on its own, though, so it was time to suck it up and go in. On Wednesday I walked into an opthamologist's office for the first time in 10 years.

Initially, things went very well. I flinched and closed my eyes when the nurse put the drops in, but it only took four or five tries until it worked. (That may seem terrible, but I was just happy to have managed at all.) I asked the nurse how long it would take for my pupils to dilate, and she said, "Oh these drops aren't for dilation. It's to numb your pupils. Now hold still please and I'm going to push this little rod against your eye to see how firm it is."

Can this be possible? She was so very cavalier about the whole thing, as though shoving a glowing blue rod into your eye is no big deal, as easy and routine as reading those little letters on the wall. I literally jumped out of my chair and said, "Are you serious?" The nurse just looked at me as though I was being completely unreasonable. "Of course," she said, "How else can we check for glaucoma?"

I felt that it was unnecessary. I realize that I'm not all that knowledgeable about eye stuff but I didn't think it was a huge risk to assume that I don't have glaucoma, considering the fact that I am not going blind nor am I 80 years old. The nurse called the doctor in for reinforcement, and I suddenly found myself at the receiving end of the standard good-cop/bad-cop technique. The doctor, not to put too fine a point on it, was a jerk. I was stuck in that stupid plastic chair between the compassionate nurse and the evil doctor, as all the while a glowing blue rod was poised mere inches from my eye. I, as anyone who has ever watched Jack Bauer at work knows, had no chance.

Once I was done sobbing, they let me out into the waiting room while my pupils dilated. (Yes, I handled the dilation drops just fine, as they suddenly seemed very benign compared to the glowing blue rod of death.) There was another woman in the room who also looked like she had recently been crying. Once I sat down, I leaned over to her and said, "I didn't realize that a visit to the eye doctor came with a lesson in medieval torture." The woman laughed nervously, but just then the Evil Doctor walked past and shot me one of the most venomous looks I've ever encountered. I was completely cowered, and for the remainder of my wait the other prisoner.....um, I mean patient, and I sat in meek silence as we tried to make out the words in magazines through our distorted vision.

Moral of the story: there is no way in Hell I'll ever set foot in that office again. I have to wonder though: Is this really normal? Is it really a routine practice to take a glowing blue rod (the glowing and the blue is important) and shove it into the eye of every patient who walks in the door? Chris claims that his office checks for glaucoma using puffs of air, but I assure you that this was no puff of air. It was a glowing blue rod, and they put it directly INTO MY EYES. Please tell me that our society has not degenerated so much that everyone, everywhere should be expected to meekly line up and let some masochist in a white coat shove foreign objects directly into their eyes. Please give me some hope for the world.

Photo for Christmas card, take 1

Aaargh! I took close to 30 pictures yesterday, and this is the best I could come up with.
I don't think it is possible to get all of them to look at the camera, keep their eyes open, and smile without grimacing all at the same time. I need to up my photoshopping skills.

(By the way, Mom - the sweaters were a big hit!!!)

Thanksgiving by Beth

I am thankful for the trees. I am thankful for my sisters. I am thankful for my family because thay take care of me. I am thankful for my health. I am thankful for my teacher so I can lean. I am thankful for the car so I can go placeis.

Elisabeth