Merry White Christmas!

Kinesthetic vs. Auditory in a Nutshell

Overheard this morning:

Alexander: I taught Ethan to throw the basketball! It only took 2 tries.

Brianna: Can he *say* basketball?

A: No. (said with a "duh!" sort of tone)

B: You should teach him to *say* basketball.

Sumo Wrestling

This week, we read about the Edo period of Japan in our History curriculum. One of the activities following the reading was Sumo wrestling! In addition to trying it out ourselves, we watched some truly informative and interesting YouTube videos on Sumo. (This one and this one. They're short -- check 'em out.)

The kids had great fun with it. For a while. Turns out the old saw is true: "It's all fun and games until somebody gets hurt." But even so, I think Alexander (the one who got hurt) would say it was worth it. It should be noted that the injury happened when they deviated from acceptable Sumo maneuvers and decided to run their pillow bellies together at top speed. Xander being the lighter of the two, went flying backwards into the wall.

So they got a little Physics lesson too. Ah, homeschooling!

The Inward Ringtone

Tonight we are having a mini-blizzard. Not much accumulation, but a couple of hours of heavy, slippery snow that makes driving difficult. I have a piece of mail that really needs to go out tonight, and if I get it to the (nearby) post office before 8 P.M., it will. I go out, brush snow off the van, and start it so that it will be warm for Ethan. The other kids are with Firmin, so the booster seat in the back remains unoccupied. I bundle Ethan into his deluxe carseat and start out. It is about 6:00 but darkness has fallen. I miss the longer days of summer.

A couple of blocks out, I see a woman pushing a stroller. There is no sidewalk on our busy road, and concern for safety has forced her well off the shoulder, onto the increasingly snow-covered grass. A single blanket covers the child in the stroller from her upper thighs to the top of her head. Only her floral cotton leggings, thin socks and slip-on shoes show. I notice that the legs are longish. The girl must be about four years old. Three if she's tall. The woman holds a cell phone against her ear with one hand as she clumsily maneuvers the stroller along the bumpy ground with the other. I imagine she is calling someone to give her a ride. I hope she is successful; it's a terrible night to be out at all, let alone with a child. I drive on for another block. I wonder how far she has to go. I wonder whom she is calling to help her, and if they will come.

The realization is slow but certain: My warm van with space for the stroller, my non-urgent errand, and my extra booster seat make me the one who is being called to help.

I turn around.

Note to Self:

Next year, plant cover crops earlier. Like before the temps plummet to the 30's and 40's. Apparently even cold-hearty field peas and fava beans need warmish soil to germinate.

Weeds, on the other hand seem not to be so picky.

:o(

Belated Halloween and Field Trip pics

Alexander was Robin Hood. I'm particularly proud of this one. It looks good and didn't cost much. The pheasant feather in the hat was the single most expensive part! (The little feathery things around his head are in the background, not part of the costume.) He got lots of compliments on it while trick-or-treating.

Brianna's Mad Scientist hair turned out pretty good. At a Halloween party earlier in the week, we experimented with letting just be loose and puffy. It looked great, but she didn't like how it got in her face, so we went back to our original idea of using wire.

My mom took pics of Ethan in his doggie costume, but I don't have those yet. He was done and out of costume by the time we took these.

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We had a chapter in history on the Netherlands, so we took a field trip to Holland. Holland, Michigan, that is. My younger sister just moved there to be an assistant editor at the newspaper there, so we got in a visit as well. Unfortunately, most of what we wanted to see was closed. We could only see the dutch windmill at a distance and the historic village was closed for the season. There were a few shops open, however, so we browsed a bit.

The wooden shoe factory was a hit, as was the candle shop where they make decorative carved candles. (The candle shop was featured on an episode of "How it's Made", in case anyone caught that.) Ethan amused himself by putting the wick of a little mushroom candle up his nostril. Very educational, no?

It Matters

"Joe" the "Plumber"

Sorry, I just couldn't resist this. So ironic. Turns out "Joe the Plumber":

1) Isn't named Joe. His name is Samuel.

So.... "Sam the Plumber"? Well, no, because he:

2) Isn't a plumber. He's not even a journeyman or apprentice plumber, and therefore may have been working illegally in Toledo. (Though there are no complaints against him, so no proof there.)

But those are details, right? The point is that this upstanding, middle class American doesn't want to pay more taxes. Is that so wrong? Well no, but actually not paying them kinda is. Turns out Joe/Sam:

3) Has a lien on his house for the $1,182.98 he owes in back taxes to the State of Ohio. Oops.

Poor guy. This may turn out to be 15 minutes of fame he could have done without!

Source: This article from the Minneapolis-St. Paul Star Tribune

Back to the Garden

I took a break from my garden this year, since Ethan was at a very attention/vigilance-demanding stage during the spring and summer. It was absolutely the right decision, but I've missed having my own produce right out the back door.

Next year, Ethan will be able to toddle around the garden with me, digging holes and generally entertaining himself. So I've been getting ready for next spring. Having a baby in September of last year meant that the garden never did get "put to bed" in 2007. There were dead garden plants and weeds everywhere. Not to mention gobs of grasshoppers, which I recently learned thrive in messy, weedy garden plots. Earlier this fall, I got out and cleaned up the mess. Then last week, Alexander and I weeded one corner and planted lots of garlic.

This week, we finally managed to get the tiller from my parents' house (thanks solely to my father -- thanks Dad!) Firmin tilled up everything but the garlic patch yesterday before dinner. After dinner, I worked like a maniac until after dark, picking out as many quackgrass rhizomes as I could -- a whole wheelbarrow full, and there are still more than I want to think about left in the garden! Those plants play to win.

Today, I gave the kids the day off from homeschooling so that they could help me get the composted manure in and plant the cover crop (field peas and fava beans). A trip to Lowes for the manure put Ethan to sleep, so we were able to work uninterupted by him. Brianna and Alexander were incredibly helpful and we got the work done in about an hour.

Here's what it looks like now:
It's not much to look at, but my garden has never been so nice and clean in the fall! I think I'll add some straw or mulched leaves when I can get some. This isn't the final look, however, as the cover crop will come up and cover the plot during the winter, fixing nitrogen into the soil and discouraging weeds.

It feels good to get back to the soil. It feels good to work hard and see progress. It feels good to share this endeavor as a family, each of us doing our part to provide some portion of our own food. It feels worth every minute.

It also feels small. I'm starting to gently work on Firmin (because I'll definently need his help) about putting a large plot further back on our property. I'd like to grow quantities of bigger crops -- squash, melon, potatoes, corn -- that I don't have room for now. But that would entail breaking a lot of sod and building a good fence to keep out the many critters (including deer) that inhabit our urban "nature oasis" back there. Getting it set up would be a project for next summer, with planting beginning next fall at the earliest. I'll let you know how it goes. Those of you who know Firmin can help me butter him up! You know -- what a great husband he is, how nice our land is, how it would be perfect for a big garden, how educational it would be for the kids, etc., etc. ;o)

Remote Rant

Unlike our TV, VCR, stereo and DVD player, which all have buttons for the most basic functions, our cable box* is NOT operable without the remote control. Whose dumb idea was this?? I don't know about other families, but in our house, remote control devices can be harder to find than an empty parking spot the day after Thanksgiving. Sure, the kids bear part of the blame, but I suspect even childless adults occasionally find themselves wandering around the living room, tossing sofa cushions and cursing. (And without kids they can curse with impunity, lucky bast... er, dogs!) Firmin and I have been known to carry a remote out of the room and absentmindedly set it down somewhere unlikely, such as the kitchen counter, the dining room table, and once, inside the refrigerator! So kids or no kids, who in their right mind would create a cable box -- the device which not only must be "on", but is also the only way to change channels -- without at least basic on/off buttons and channel up/down buttons? Then you could at least watch the show of your choice while you search for the remote!

You won't be surprised to learn that today I spent 10 increasingly frustraing minutes looking for the cable remote. I had Ethan on my hip wanting to nurse, the other kids were outside, and all I wanted was a few minutes of veg time in front of the TV. Too much for a busy homeschooling mom to ask?? The box was already on, so I could turn on the tv manually and get a picture, but all that got me was 10 minutes of some unbearably manic show on Cartoon Network before I finally found the remote...

In the trash.

Sigh.


*Background: We are in the middle of our bi-annual cable TV phase. We get the 3 or 6 month deal for World Cup Soccer and Summer Olympics/Presidential election years, then turn it off again. :o)

Obama Rally

The Big Guy came to town today, and we were there! (Along with about 17,000 other people!) It was a whole-day affair, since we had to get there early. Even so, the line stretched half-way across (the very large) campus when we got into it 3 1/2 hours before the start of the rally. Note the que in the far background of this picture:


The kids held up great, all things considered. We ran into some friends with kids, so that helped a lot. As long as the line was, we ended up in a pretty good spot. I was unlucky in my attempts to get a good shot of Obama (they were all blurry), but here's a picture of Debbie Stabinow, Michigan's junior senator, who introduced him. It gives you a sense of the view we had.


Here we all are! Ethan loved flirting with everyone around us. College girls especially are a real sucker for him, and he eats up the attention. Xander was bored by the end and kept wondering why Obama kept talking for so long! (We sweetened the deal for him by ending the day at an ice cream shop in downtown East Lansing. Yum.) Brianna didn't pay close attention to the speech (of course), but she seemed to appreciate at least a little bit how historic this moment is. She was glad we came. By the time Obama took the stage, the skies were threatening, but luckily the rain held off. Only one person in the audience fainted. All in all, a great day! :o)

Ethan

What a difference a year makes:

September 2007

September 2008

Happy Birthday to my littlest guy!

(all shots taken on Ethan's exact birthday)

Be a Follower!

I'm working on updating some of the elements on the boarders of this blog. Check out the new blog roll on the right, for example. I've added several new blogs, plus you can see a snippet of the latest post on each blog. Cool, huh?

I've also added a "followers" gadget. I've seen this on some other blogs and thought I'd try it out. If you read this blog regularly or semi-regularly, you can add yourself as a "follower", either publicly or privately. This is a good way to let me know you enjoy the blog without having to post anything in the comments, which I know not everyone likes to do. (Though I love reading the comments, so I hope those who *are* inclined to comment will continue to do so!) It also allows me and other readers to find your blog if you have one. There is a place for a picture, but you don't need to have one.

Dancing on My Grave

We had very heavy rains this weekend. Today, the kids and I marveled at how far the rivers in our area have over-spilled their banks. Brianna and Alexander wanted to scout a section of new trail running behind a cemetery near our house. We drove into the cemetery and parked near an embankment overlooking the trail. The kids jumped out of the van and ran to get a better look. They pointed and laughed and romped along the ridge for a while before skipping and running back to me to report their findings.

I loved seeing their joy in that place, oblivious to the remains below their feet and the granite and marble reminders of generations past. I was reminded of the day of my Grandfather's funeral some years ago. At the graveside, we adults were somber. But his little great-grandchildren, far too young to appreciate their loss, played gleefully among the leaves on that glorious October afternoon. The pastor saw them and smiled. "I love seeing young children at a funeral" he said. "They remind us that life carries on."

As the memory faded, my thoughts turned, unbidden, to my own mortality. Some day, I thought, children may romp happily on the spot where my remains are buried or scattered. Children of children of children yet unborn. I was infused with a feeling of peace and joy. It was the most beautiful thought about death (particularly my own) that I have ever had. I pray that I may be so blessed. And if I am, I hope that somehow my soul will be aware of them, of their energy, of their joy, of their dancing into the future.

Everyday Sacred

For the longest time, I needed an apron. I spend a substantial amount of time in the kitchen, and going apron-less was proving hard on my clothes. The aprons I already owned were of the stiff, canvass, men's grill-out style. They bunched around my waist and were too big around the neck. They're simply not comfortable to leave on for any task besides cooking, so I tended to take them off during a break in the kitchen action, then forgot to put them back on when I went in to finish up. I needed a nice woman's apron -- one with full coverage, soft fabric, and a narrower waist. One that I could leave on all day if need be. But there were two problems. First, I couldn't find anything for sale that seemed to fit my needs. Second, I had a mental block: it seemed so 1950's house-wifey to wear something like that! To make matters worse, I often wear long skirts, so I needed one with a full skirt to properly protect my clothes. Forget 1950's housewife, think Amish farm wife! Eek!

The I attended Friends General Conference Summer Gathering. I participated in a week-long workshop (run by Robin M.) that addressed, among other things, ways in which contemporary Friends can find new meaning in the practices of early Quakers. One of the peculiarities of early Friends was that they did not celebrate holidays. Partly this was because of the pagan origin of many holidays, but also it reflected their belief that every day was sacred, that every act and every moment should bring us closer to The Light, to God.

Now, in practice, I'm not very good at remembering the sacredness of mundane moments. Not many people are. This is why we create rituals and yes, even holidays -- to remind us of the sacredness of life and this moment. Yet there is danger in ritual as well. Early Friends were harsh critics of "empty forms": rituals that were performed mindlessly out of duty or habit. Rather than sacred, such rote rituals were a denial of the Living Spirit within. Thus, to the extent that Quakers had rituals at all, they tended to serve some practical purpose as well. For example, plain clothing, without extraneous trim or complicated styling, reminded them of their faith, but also served to simplify their morning routine, ostensibly leaving more mental space for God and more money for good causes.

Thinking about early Quakers and the sacredness of daily life provided me with a shift in my frame of reference. Ruining my clothing was wasteful and inconsistent with the testimonies of simplicity and stewardship, but that wasn't quite enough to get me past my cultural hang-ups about aprons. The concept of every day being sacred was the clincher. I would make the apron myself, and both the making of it and the wearing of it would be a sacred act.

When I put on my apron, I'm reminded of why I do so -- to be a good steward of my clothing, sure, but also to provide sustenance for my family, to cook (as often as possible) in a way that is consistent with my ecological and community values, and to remember to make mental room for the Sacred, the Divine, even in the most mundane of tasks. Who'd have thought an apron could do all that?

I still feel a tad house-wifey when I wear it. (I'm thankful I'm not called to wear it outside the house!) Yet, in truth, the slight discomfort is probably a good thing. Without it, I wouldn't remember all that the apron signifies.

Photo credit: Brianna Charlot

Blog Love

A little Blog love from my friend Angela! Thank you kindly!

Here are the guidelines for this award:

1. The winner can put the logo on her/his blog
2. Link the person you received the award from
3. Nominate at least 7 other blogs
4. Put links of those blogs on yours
5. Leave a message on the blogs nominated

I'm going to break #7 because Angela's award list included nearly all the blogs I read! So here are a few blogs I love in addition to the ones Angela mentioned. I love these blogs because they routinely make me think more deeply:

An Even Half Dozen
Imperfect Serenity
What Canst Thou Say?
The Upside Down World

Not Back to School 2008

Lucky 13

What is the proper celebration of a 13th wedding anniversary?

What was that? Staying home and watching the Democratic National Convention, did you say? Hey, that's what we thought too! We'll be sure to snuggle on the sofa while we watch. :o)

Oh, and Happy Birthday, Sis! Thanks for giving up "your" day to celebrate "ours" back in 1995. We love 'ya!

Making Ice Cream

My new Kitchen Aid mixer came with a free ice cream maker attachment, which arrived in the mail last week. I've been promising the kids ice cream, and today was the day. I adapted a recipe from this book:
The recipe was nice and simple -- milk, cream, sugar, eggs, flavoring. (They suggested a historically typical lemon, we went with mint chocolate chip.)

I was able to make it using local ingredients, except for the chocolate and perhaps the mint oil. The cream and milk came from the cow herd we own a share in. The eggs from a family in our Quaker meeting who raise a few chickens in their back yard, the sugar was Michigan beet sugar. Even the mint flavoring *could* be local -- there are big mint farms in this area.

The recipe begins with a milk/sugar/egg yolk custard. The book states, "Don't expect your custard to be yellow like Eliza Jane [Wilder]'s unless your cream comes from grass-fed Guernseys and your eggs from scratch-fed chickens."

Check. Check. The cows are Jerseys rather than Guernesys, but that's a minor detail. ;o) I don't know why the fact that my custard was bright yellow made me so happy, but it did. (What I said in this post may have something to do with it.) Can all that beta-carotine and omega-3's make up for the huge hit of saturated fat? No? Oh well...

As much as I enjoyed getting in touch with the past, there is a time and place for modern conveniences. Like whipping egg whites to a stiff peak and turning an ice cream dasher for 30 minutes.

I don't have any pictures of the finished product. We were too busy eating!

Campfire Baby