Yesterday my husband was sick.  Head cold and, um, digestive issues.

Which meant my kids got to spend a little extra time with their favorite parent: La Tele (if I call our television by its French moniker, that makes it a cultural experience, right?).  We have a few movies checked out from the library that I’ve been trying to get them to watch.  Because this is how it works:

“Mom, put [insert title] on hold, please!”

“Okay.”

Receive title.

“Mom, it’s screentime.  We’re going to watch something on Netflix.”

“You realize we only have that movie for a week, right?”

“Yeah, yeah.”

Time passes.

“Mom, what happened to that movie?”

“It was due.”

“What?!! NOOOOO!”

Insert general weeping and wailing and gnashing of teeth.

Doesn’t that sound delightful?

So yesterday I told them they had no choice with their extra time with La Tele: they were going to watch “Despicable Me”. With me. Because by the time of the arsenic hour, that was pretty much self-descriptive.

I rarely watch La Tele with the kids: I don’t sit still real well. Neither do they.  That’s a whole lot of wriggling on the couch. But I attempted to sit and enjoy our time together.

Hubby came downstairs later. I was busy throwing things together for dinner for those with stomach issues and tastebud issues. “Did you enjoy the movie? I heard a serious guffaw down there.” “What? Yeah, I guess. Some of it is funny. I was mostly being wooled on by Boo: sometimes I don’t even realize that she’s on my lap – when did she get up there? And for how long? Geez … OH, there was a funny part! There was this little girl, and the cranky old bad guy who adopts her and two other girls, and they’re at a fair, and she sees this unicorn and really wants it, and he blows apart the game to get it for her cause it’s rigged, and she growls, ‘It’s So Fluffy!!!!!’ Yeah, that made me laugh.”

You can laugh along with me right here.

The little girl reminded me of a cross between me and one of my besties: Hannah. After high school I cleaned Hannah’s room, and when I’d move things to the junk pile, she’d tell me: “Nooo! I need this, or I’ll dieeeee!” She may have been right, but we’ll never know.

As for me, I admit it: I have a giant stuffed animal – not a unicorn, but a bunny. My Nana bought an Easter dress for me, and after spending a certain amount at the department store, the bunny was less.  There were bunnies ALL over that store, and Nana was determined my brother and I needed one. My mama sacrificed and bought herself a new dress so Matt could get a bunny. Because I have the bunny Nana bought: I watched the clerk put it in the bag and made sure that one stayed with me. As it has: for over two decades.

Some people have body pillows; I have my bunny, and I believe he’s done wonders for keeping my back in alignment at night. Plus, he’s an awesome head prop while reading.

I love the sheer joy of the little girl in the moment. She doesn’t want the unicorn for practical purposes, for personal edification, for social betterment.  She wants it and LOVES it because it’s fluffy.

It’s time to find some more fluffy in my life. FLUFFY!

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I’m not good at providing answers.

After college I worked in a library and *loved* it: not the organization or the mass amount of books, but being able to point people in a direction to find resources to help them in their journeys.  When I worked in the young adult section I often was asked point-blank questions: “What is the population of Idaho?” “What is the tenth decimal of pi?” “Why is the capitol barricaded?” (That had to do with the present governor’s strong belief that post-9/11 terrorists were attacking key places in America, like the head of the government in southern Idaho. Yeah).

My answer: “Hmm: well, let’s look at where we can get that answer.” Not always a pleasing response, but in the long run, the right answer: they were equipped, and I might have less questions asked of me.

One of my favorite parenting books, How to Talk So Your Kids Will Listen and Listen So Your Kids Will Talk, gives four points for helping kids/mankind deal with their feelings (aka. what most of us spend most of our time doing): (HT)

1. Instead of half-listening, listen with full attention. It can be discouraging to try to get through to someone who gives only lip service to listening. It’s much easier to tell your troubles to a parent who is really listening. He doesn’t even have to say anything. Often a sympathetic silence is all a child needs.
2. Instead of questions and advice, acknowledge with a word — “Oh … Mmm … I see.” It’s hard for a child to think clearly or constructively when someone is questioning, blaming, or advising her. There’s a lot of help to be had from a simple “Oh … umm …” or “I see.” Words like these, coupled with a caring attitude, are invitations to a child to explore her own thoughts and feelings, and possibly come up with her own solutions.
3. Instead of denying the feeling, give the feeling a name. The child who hears the words for what he is experiencing is deeply comforted. Someone has acknowledged his inner experience. (“That sounds frustrating!”)
4. Instead of explanation and logic, give a child his wishes in fantasy. When children want something they can’t have, adults usually respond with logical explanations of why they can’t have it. Often the harder we explain, the harder they protest. Sometimes just having someone understand how much you want something makes reality easier to bear. (“I wish I could make the banana ripe for you right now!”)

The past five weeks in my Sunday class at our worship gathering I’ve been given another tool: The Catechesis of the Good Shepherd. Instead of providing THE answer with the flannel graph, I’m learning how to create space for my kids to encounter God on their own, to enter into The Mystery, to ponder and wonder.  One of the key phrases the facilitators seem to end with is “Hmmm, that gives us a lot to wonder about.”

Yesterday during our afternoon park visit, I walked the path while my kids joined the masses running amuck.  This group was different, though: light sabres and really big guns seemed to be the main focus.  My boys were mesmerized.  My heart sank. “Ack! Guns: BAD! My babies!” But then I thought of my brother who maintains that his enjoyment of heavily militarized video games stems from the trauma of the de-gunning of his Leonardo Ninja Turtle as a tyke.

Boys will be boys.  But I cleave strongly to a peace testimony.  But the founders of my denomination declared they were part of the Lamb’s Army.  Ack!

Fortunately as I paced, and prayed, the phrase that came to mind was, “Hmm, this gives me a lot to wonder about.”

When I told the boys it was time to go home (because, honestly, I couldn’t bear much more of my oldest following the tall red-headed ring-leader), JJ burst into tears.  “But he wouldn’t share his gun with me!!” Me: “Oh, you’re sad.” JJ: “Yeah. Sniffle.” Abe: “I will ask Unca Matt for a light sabre or a gun for my birthday.  Because he will get it for me, and it will be awesome.”

Hmm. And sigh. Oh, the wonder. 

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Fortunately, someone got my back … or his front.

His face is a glimpse into a moment in time:  food, scabs, bruises, glitter …

Trying to look “normal”.

Or not.

Perhaps practicing his letter of the week from preschool?

I really don’t ask anymore:  just nod and accept, just nod and accept.

Either someone has a healthy self esteem or is the overlooked middle child:  not only taking self-portraits, but also pictures of himself.

Maybe the lack of pictures is do to all the activities we’ve been doing.  What they are, I can’t remember:  but we’ve got some tuckered-out little people around here (sleeping next to “the awesomest book, Mom!” It’s given the thumbs up by George Lucas:  obviously an important literary contribution to this generation).

Like Mama at this age, like Daughter.

Post-nap activity:  snuggles.

And smiles.

And demands for “when will the pizza be reaaaaaaaaddddddddddyyyyyyyy?!!!!!!!” We know how to party on a Friday night.

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Yes, yes, it’s been a while since posting.  Though the blog has been boring, life hasn’t been.  Currently my boys have been whisked away by a dear friend to attend one of their tribe’s birthday celebration (Wii & cake:  what more could a boy … or mama … ask for?).  As they were driven away and I gathered up the flurry of items required to get them out the door, I breathed and realized:  “I’m alone.  With Boo sleeping upstairs.  And she’ll sleep for another hour.  This could be delightful.”

I decided instead of mentally writing, I should engage in the actual practice.  Unlike the organization of photos and scrap-booky items in my Hope(less) Chest:  that sin probably will be passed down to the next generation.

This morning we sat on the couch and read.  For an hour.  Just like we did yesterday and the day before.  Lately at this time I would be reading to them, and then again in four hours before bedtime.  Feeding and reading and using the bathroom and using up bandaids and changing clothes and choosing to do activities with the teeniest-tiniest pieces that a certain Little Sister can distribute throughout the house:  that is our routine of the moment.

For a while we hadn’t been reading much.  Picture books, yes: but my attention span could no longer handle shifting from one brightly-colored page to another.  I needed substance.  I seeded copies of “Stuart Little” and “Hank the Cowdog” amongst the holds, while singing the praises of “Henry Huggins” and “Ramona and Beezus”.  But to no avail:

“Did you read the book?”

“Yep.  Read it all.”

“What was it about?”

“Oh, it was long:  I can’t remember.”

That was our morning conversation.  It hurt the heart of an avid child reader (not to mention former library assistant).  I remember not being able to run errands with my mother without having a substantial read in my hand.  The nervousness I experienced at wondering whether it would be long enough to last the trip throughout all of the Treasure Valley is very similar to my nervousness at watching battery strength on the Touch when grocery shopping:  not 10%!  I’m only in the back of the produce section: I haven’t even hit the bulk section yet!

I am a firm believer in using and proclaiming the amazing resources at the library:  books!  Movies!  Downloadable books and audio books (oh, yes!)!  Magazines, cookbooks, cds, travel books, etc., etc., etc.  When people see the stack of books I pick up on hold during our weekly visits falls into two camps:  “Geez!  You get a lot of books!  Do you have your own hold shelf?!!” and “Oh, I get that many as well.”  The later are fewer, but we all have the knowing nod:  the library is a wonderful, wonderful thing.

The other week as I was pulling the Little Miss off of the catalog computer for the fifth time, I looked up at the librarian, a friend from high school and college, and realized, “Wait.  I’m missing out on one of the best resources at all:  The Librarians!”  “Korie, do you have any suggestions for chapter books for JJ?  That aren’t too big?  And don’t involve the words ‘poop’, ‘stupid’, and tearing down authority figures?”  And she did.

Even though she’s sleep deprived from the recent addition of a new little one, she pulled out some amazing reads:

• Andrew Lost.  Andrew and his family build inventions, and his latest invention (the Atom Sucker) has shrunk him, his cousin, and his computer friend T.H.U.D.D. down to the size of the head of a needle.  They have to find a way back to the Atom Sucker in eight hours, before the machine might explode!  Yes, at one point they get flushed down the toilet on a pile of dog poop, but other than that, the story is interesting, bringing science and humor (and cartoon drawings) in to engage both my six and three year old.
• Martin Bridge.  Martin Bridge reminds me of a current Henry Huggins:  adventures that don’t seem totally marked by time.  Just life as a kid:  having problems with friends, spending a day at school after forgetting a permission slip for a field trip, having a not-so-good friend come over to celebrate his birthday … one day too late.  A lack of poop, an abundance of love for parents, and normal joy and struggles:  good stuff.
• Alvin Ho.  This came highly recommended.  Alvin is of Chinese-American descent living in Concord, Massachusetts (a place “that’s hard to spell”).  He does not speak at school:  he’s too shy.  But his imagination more than makes up for it.  He and his friends play “Redcoats and Minutemen” on the playground since they’re in the heart of the land of the American Revolution.  This led to us getting some books about that war: reading that leads to further learning – who woulda thunk? Today we read about how his dad lets out his frustration:  swearing like a Shakespearean character and playing the piano: he even writes the curses down on a piece of paper (like “What bootless toad-spotted bladder did this?”) and keeps them in a box.  Brilliant.

It’s amazing to sit down on the couch, ask the little people, “What do you want to read?”, and have the three year old scramble for “Awvin Hooooo!”  Of course, there’s the required Richard Scarry and Construction I-Spy books, but still:  my need for complete non-rhyming sentences has been satiated.  That’s a good thing.

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The other night inspiration hit for dinner, out of desperation, of course. My husband came home early – yay! My attempt at making dinner: not begun. An assortment of random reaching-peakedness items were in my fridge.

Quick tip: if wonton wrappers are on sale at a store
– buy them
– freeze them if not used right away
– thaw them in hot water
– stuff anything that sounds yummy inside of them
– involve the kids in sealing the wrappers (fingers in water)
– spray with cooking oil and bake
– consume

Our “stuffing” for Tuesday night: leftover chicken, cheese, green onions, corn, barbeque sauce, leftover teriyaki sauce from takeout. Success! Quick, easy, yummy, and involved the family. A winner in my book.

This has been a “in times of desperation” quick tip from Dren: may it serve you well.

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I always thought the phrase “I’m looking for my glasses” was interesting, mostly because I needed my glasses to find them.  That’s how I feel about my mind as of late:  I need to remember my mind, but I tend to forget it because, well, I need it to remember.  Make sense?  It does in this convoluted mass of tissue in the upper realms of my noggin.

Three kids.  Two schools.  One husband.  We have yet to have two “normal” weeks in a row, which does not work for my pattern-finding self or routine-oriented children.  Correction:  JJ adapts, but oh the weeping and wailing of my middle child at not having school five days a week, or like this week, at all.  The Little Miss could care less, except when her mother can’t figure out what she wants (like to be fed) or that she’s capable of more movement than army-crawling (like dumping out the cat’s food this afternoon — twice).

I was listening to a podcast of an author discussing his latest book on George Washington.  The former president wrote in his will that all of his slaves were to be freed upon his death, which caused a problem because his wife brought a lot of slaves into the marriage, and they weren’t too hip with the idea of staying longer than the others.  My first thought, “What would you do with all those slaves?” and then, “Oh, wait …”

I’ve taken to making a number of items in our home as of late:  laundry detergent, yogurt, butter, preserving fruits and vegetables, bacon, etc.  The energy and time I could spend doing something else, like writing or speaking to another adult, is used providing healthy, local, happy things to consume.  Which is my choice to make/do.  But I don’t know that my mind naturally works that way, and so I feel like I’m constantly racing — to preserve the food before it goes bad, to make more soap before the laundry becomes the ‘dee’s new Mt. Hood.  And then I get grumpy:  I sure hate being grumpy.

So if my hubby can buy more memory for the computer, can’t the world come up with more memory for our minds?  That, or if someone wanted to move in and help me out:  I’d pay well in cookies:  that I rarely forget to make. 

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JJ came home a mere few days into his venture in Kindergarten: “Mama, Mama! I’m going to be a dashing dolphin to raise money for my school! And there’s prizes and I need to earn them!”

Flashbacks zoomed before my very eyes of grade-school me pouring over prize booklets, calculating how many doors I had to knock on to earn that walkman, with my mama sighing in the background, muttering something about “fundraisers” and “prize-oriented frenzy” and “brainwashing” and “easier just to write a check”.

And so it comes full-circle.

Fortunately JJ understands that he’s earning money for his school to help purchase important things like “food and computers and telephones for my teachers” (and field trips and technology improvements for the kids, although I’m sure the teachers would appreciate subsidized snacks). AND fortunately the Parent Club advocates talking with friends and family rather than going door-to-door due to STRANGERDANGER!!! So we’re tapping into our online neighborhood.

October 15th is the ‘Dee Dolphin Dash in which JJ will be running laps to raise money (and awareness) for his school. People can sponsor JJ per lap or an overall pledge for the event. Feel free to leave a comment or contact me if you’d like more info. Here’s a demonstration of JJ’s Dashing abilities (and Boo’s peeking/crawling abilities. I didn’t realize until after the video that she got down the stairs by herself: those Dashing Dolphins are too distracting ).

Dolphin Dash Demonstration

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Today is the eldest’s first day of Kindergarten.  In the documentation, I noticed a number of pictures on the camera.  LOTS of pictures.  What are they of?  Oh, that’s right:  SUMMER.

Boo was dedicated:  Aw.

JJ graduated:  Aw.

Teacher L, we’ll miss you!  Thank goodness for Book Nook on Saturdays:  phew!

Abe had Day of Birth 3.0:

We slept in odd positions (we don’t ask anymore):

We picked strawberries, blackberries, and blueberries:  yum!

Well, some picked.

We *all* went to high school camp for a week at the beach.  I realized I’ve given birth to at least one high schooler in terms of energy (guess which one ).

Wave jumping at the camp beach day:

Can’t you see this same picture ten years down the road?  Crazy.

VBS (twice), Yearly Meeting, trips to Kansas (in which we survived, and maybe thrived, at a rollercoaster park with five kids five and under for 8ish hours).

Feeding goats in Kansas, because how can you not feed goats in Kansas:

Sittin’ pretty at the rollercoaster park:

JJ’s garden:

Abe’s garden:

Follow-through not so great:  eh, there’s always next year (thank goodness for our CSA which does follow through ).

Fun, fellowship, and flying candy:

And TENLEY:

And now school starts off with a smile:

Summer:  we’ll miss you!  Come play again next year!

Boo Blatherings, Holiday Hoopla, JJ Jawings, Little A Adventures, Mama Musings | 6 Comments »

I am by no means a foodie, but I do spend an awful lot of time thinking about food, reading about food, talking about food, purchasing, preparing, consuming, and cleaning up after food.  Other than, “Can I go to legoclub.com?”, “Can we go to the park?”, “Is it screen time yet?”, and “Doo-dah/Doe-fa-feen/Dad did it!” the words I most frequently hear are “What and when are we going to eat?”  Mostly, lately, it’s gotten the same response:  “Idunno.”  I haven’t been inspired, it’s been too rainy/cold/blazing hot/enter some other element “out of my control” that would give me the excuse to say “sounds like another snacky lunch day!”

But then a friend made a comment the other day:  “I miss your menu posts.”

What?  Someone reads this ol’ blog?  And they’re interested in what I have to say?  Like a neglected child who gets a glimmer of positive reinforcement, my inner blogger did a little twirl:  someone cares?!!  Then I should menu plan!  And post!  And after a life of family-visits, end-of-the-school-year-madness, surgery, recouping, rockin’-the-rec-at-VBS, trip-to-Kansas, soul-sucking-heat, I actually found time and space to plan out the munchies.

What cookbook are we planning from this time?  The Vegetarian Mother’s Cookbook.  Not that I’m a vegetarian intentionally.  It’s more that a) meat takes time to prepare, 2) wrongly prepared meat can cause death, iii) I’m lazy and would like not to kill off my family.  And, dairy and I are fast friends.  So I read vegetarian recipes:  plus, honestly, a lot of them are quick and easy and don’t deal with potential cross-contamination.

Sunday:  Breakfast at church before the outdoor worship (took store-purchased granola as my cereal offering – shocking for me not to bring a baked good – that’s how out of it I’ve been – and how non-stove-oriented – cause it’s hot – and we’re doing one-window-unit a/c – gotsta keeps the bebes cool!); Pb banana shake, sugar snap peas (from our CSA – love them!), whole wheat ritz with raw milk yogurt cheese; Whole wheat english muffin pizzas (with Trader Joe’s pizza sauce:  thanks for the recommendation, Ashlee!)

Monday:  Molasses toast, herby (CSA) scrambled eggs, cherries (CSA and our backyard); whole grain waffles, bananas, peanut butter; Veggie breakfast burrito, fruit salad

Tuesday:  Summer muesli, bananas; Tofu salad sandwich, chips, carrots, dried strawberries; Breakfast potatoes and veggies, scrambled eggs plus

Wednesday:  Almond butter orange sandwich; Bean quesadilla, chips, cherries; Scrambled tofu, almond pancakes w/homemade butter and homemade raspberry jam

Thursday:  Soaked apples’n'spice Bob’s Red Mill cereal, string cheese; Rice and beans casserole, chips, salsa, carrots; Tofu and udon noodles (known to the boys as peanut butter noodles, like the kind that beloved Miss Ashlee makes for her boys, cause tofu and udon is yuck, but who can say no to peanut butter noodles?!!), applesauce, snap peas

Friday:  Almond butter pancake sandwich, bananas; Curried rice salad, toasted cheese english muffins; Grilled chicken mango sausage, new potato and pea salad (Thanks, Mere!)

Saturday:  English muffin cheesecake, cherries; Black bean and sweet potato enchiladas, snap peas, homemade strawberry fruit leather; Potato kale quiche, fruit salad, garlic toast

It’s amazing to recognize the changes since I’ve last posted a menu.  I make a lot more stuff myself, or I get a lot more ingredients locally.   On Saturday a friend and I drove past the house I get eggs from which happens to be in the hills of Dundee.  My friend, who was driving, said, “So we turn around to get to your house?” to which I replied, “Oh no, there’s a back road.”  A back road that’s gravel with crazy amounts of small and large potholes, including a turn that drives you over really really loose gravel where it’s not so obvious where the tires of the car should or actually can go.  And yet their house is a mere few minutes away from my house which is firmly located in suburbia.  At times like that, after doing my weekly egg pickup, and as I hear my youngest littles babbling to hear their voices change as we bounce from pothole to pothole, I must admit: I really do love my life. 

Daily Drivel, Foodie Facts | 4 Comments »

Scene:  After Naptime

JJ enters room, wearing a green long-sleeved shirt from the morning and shorts just a few shades bluer than the green shirt, close enough that the eyes naturally squint.  He’s holding a kleenex to his chin.

Mama:  “JJ, you’re wearing shorts.”

JJ:  “Yep.”

Mama:  “Why?”

JJ:  “Cause it was quiet time.”

Abe comes trundling in the room, wearing his swimming trunks and lacking a shirt, carrying a kleenex.

Mama:  “Abe, you’re wearing your swimming trunks.”

Abe:  “Mama, owie!  I gotta scratchie!”

Mama:  “You have a little scratch?”

Abe, trying to stand on one foot while holding the other up to show it off:  “SCRATCHIE!”

JJ:  “No, Mama, it’s a BIG scratch!”

Abe, smiling:  “I BLEEDING!!!”

JJ:  “He’s bleeding a lot!”

Abe:  “Yep!”  Puts both feet firmly on the floor and trundles off.

JJ’s kleenex was never explained.

Daily Drivel, JJ Jawings, Little A Adventures | 1 Comment »