Kitchen Chat

I've got some brown rice concoction languishing in the blender. Rumor has it that it'll turn into pancakes if I leave it there long enough. But just in case, I didn't mention to the boys that there may be pancakes tomorrow. The dishwasher and washing machine are doing their thing, and I'm sitting here with dry hands, a comfortable back, and a whole lot of appreciation in my heart.

We had a pretty good day today, all around. Lots of time outside. A good portion of time really connecting with each other. I've been working hard on not letting my own lacking strength or enthusiasm seep out onto the boys, and I *think* (hope, pray!) it's beginning to sink in with me. So I set the tone, and really, they do tend to follow suit. (Funny how that works. Remind me of this when we have "one of those days" - odds are good it'll be because I dropped the ball.) One of them was feeling a bit contrary, a bit cranky, but he opened right up when I approached him about it and we were able to get to the root of the matter. It doesn't always go down that well, but when it does, it feels like winning a marathon. Or how I would envision it would feel to win a marathon. Maybe a three-legged race? I don't know, but it felt good.

The boys have been ploughing through the fruits and veggies lately, so we had to make an emergency trip into town for more fresh stuff. (NOT complaining!) It was nice to load up on things with the boys' input. Asparagus is in season right now, so we picked up five pounds of that. (You can never have enough asparagus on hand. Never.) With the grill now dead, we've been brainstorming quick meals. It's not so much preparation time, but more specifically we needed meals that will not require the oven, and only minimal stovetop use. Stir fry fits that bill nicely! I do love summer cooking.

I sent the boys ahead to find the next aisle we needed, and John approached a little girl at the end of one aisle and began talking with her, kidding with her, squirrelling around a bit. That took me off guard. "Huh," I thought, "he doesn't usually just dive right into - OH MY WORD, did he just nudge that child with his elbow?!?!?" Thankfully that was all internal. Turned out to be one of the girls on his baseball team. I'm glad he recognized her, because I've never seen her with her hair down, dressed in something other than practice clothes or their game uniforms. It was nice to actually run into someone we know while we're at the market. That was a normal occurrence when we lived back out west, and I didn't realize how much I've missed it. So, small Poky Little Puppy distraction. Kind of nice.

We found little gardening hand tool sets for the boys, so they're each armed erm, equipped for the garden now. Hopefully, we won't find ourselves regretting this decision from the comfort of the ER lobby.

Since I had my act together, we finished eating early enough to go outside and play after supper. (That skill's going to come in handy when the summer humidity hits!) While we were out there, Zorak had a Truly Brilliant idea, probably inspired by one of the children running smack into the woodpile in the dark *again*. He dug out our camping lantern and hung it on the cheesy windmill thing in the upper meadow, then pulled the picnic table over close enough to enjoy the light, but not so close that we had to deal with bugs. The boys played some horrible combination of rugby, football, high-speed cop chase... I'm not sure what it was, but it sounded fun. And painful. Baby Girl and Smidge walked atop the railroad ties around the windmill, ooohhhing and ahhhing over the bugs, the leaves, the stars in the sky. And I can't believe we did this, but Zorak and I sat on either end of the picnic bench for a good five minutes before we realized...

"HEY, we're the only two here!"
*scootch* *scootch*
"Mmmm, much better."

So what began as a simple means of preventing major neck injuries in the Small Ones turned into a lovely impromptu date night and family excursion. (The garden-gnome version of a windmill is still outta here the first chance we get, but now we think we'll replace it with a post for hanging the lantern.)

Did you have an enjoyable day today?

Kiss those babies!
~Dy

Oh, this feels good!

James just posted his translation work on the fridge. He worked hard, and he's proud of that work. He bounced and leapt and whirled out the front door to tell his brothers how excited he is over the work he did. I'm sitting here snickering to myself, and simply didn't have the heart to tell him that he'd just written a *whole page* of work. (Didn't have the heart to do that to myself, that is! Normally, getting him to write is torture, right up there with expecting him to floss sharks, or stab kittens with toothpicks. Not that we'd ask those things of him, but you wouldn't know it from the terror a simple writing assignment typically inspires.)

And so, he's learning the things he needs to learn.

And I'm learning the things I need to learn.

And here it is, lunchtime.

That went quickly. :-)

Kiss those babies!
~Dy

Bad timing #432

The heating element in your outdoor grill dies in May.

Perhaps it's time to put in a pit bbq?

Kiss those babies!
~Dy

Done by 7AM

I have a vague recollection of someone placing a book on my chest this morning around six, and a disembodied voice from somewhere beyond my peripheral vision murmuring, "Look, I'm done with my math." I think I mumbled something encouraging (I hope it was encouraging), and then everything went blissfully black again.

There's a slightly clearer memory of a voice and a blurry-headed boy at my bedside around six-thirty, showing me what I can only guess to be a completed Latin page, based on the jarringly chipper narrative that accompanied the bobbing movements of the blurry head.

Around seven, James came *bounding* into the room once again, fully dressed, to snuggle up beside me and whisper, "I've done all my schoolwork."

Mrmpf.

"Did you hear me, Mom? Isn't that wonderful?"

(OK, ok, I'll get up.) You did *all* of it?

"Yep. All of it. I even did my reading this morning. And see, I'm dressed!"

Mrmpf. Um... yeah... why?

"Because I wanted to make you smile." *big cheesy smile*

*choke* *snort* *grumble* (Riiiiight. Sure you did.) And?

"And may I play a little Paper Mario?"

Heh. OK, that makes a lot more sense than the initial presentation of a burning desire To Do Right In The World.

Still, seven in the morning and the kid is up, dressed, has fed the dog, and done all of his schoolwork independently. Yeah, that's a bargain I'm willing to strike this morning. And when he's done, I think I'm going to show him how to make coffee, in case this ever happens again.

Kiss those babies!
~Dy

You are so not in the club.

"What club?"

"The church club."

"Yeah... I noticed."

We went to the VTC again today. They don't really break between Sunday School and the service (the pause is only long enough for the pianist to walk to the front of the church and sit down), and two and a half hours is just a bit long for the little guys to sit still and quiet without any kind of a break (potty, snack, stretch-yer-legs). So we decided to go for the service only, which the sign says begins at 10:35. We got there at 10:30. Sunday school ended around 10:50, and they moved right into the service. We got out of there at almost one. I asked what time they normally end Sunday School (thinking that perhaps today had been a special study), and was told, "Whenever I finish." Oh. Well, that'll make planning easy.

After the service, the pastor's wife approached and mentioned that it's been a while since she's vaccumed in there and hoped we didn't encounter too many bugs when I'd taken EmBaby to the far back for a bit. (We did. They were pretty numerous. The windows are filthy, too, and the place could use a dusting.) She said she'd get the vaccum out and bring it over and tidy up a bit, and so I offered to come and help. I've never been in a congregation that wasn't clamoring for women to come help clean the church. That is, never been to one until today. You'd have thought I'd said I'd come clean her home. Nope, they don't need any help with cleaning the church. OK, well, you know, if you ever do the big spring cleaning, or need help with the woodwork, or whatev--- "NOPE. We don't need any help ever. We're fine."

Uh-huh.

On the way down the steps, I asked the pastor about two of the ill who'd been mentioned in the prayers that morning, and let him know that if anybody is ever ill or homebound and they need someone to do grocery shopping or bring meals, please don't hesitate to let me know. His response took me by surprise: "We take care of our own in this community. We don't turn to any 'church organizations' when we need something." He expounded a bit, but it didn't make any more sense than that, and wasn't nearly as gentle.

That, a few other things, all of it together, struck me as... odd. Isn't a congregation part of the community? Isn't it the calling of the church to take care of those who need care? I wasn't offering to send out FEMA requests, or to call in a representative from a large national organization to come survey the situation and make recommendations. I was offering to help, myself, in person. Coming from a pastor, as well, the facial display of ironic quotes when he said "church organizations" seemed a bit... well, off. I thought maybe I was just being prideful in feeling snubbed so curtly, and decided not to say anything more about it.

Then on the drive home, Zorak hit me with the observation above. That's how it sure looked from his point of view. Folks, just a tip: when someone from outside your faith sees the flock snubbing other believers, it's Painfully Obvious. You're not being subtle, or probably even kind.

*sigh*

I know. We're not "from here". You don't have to remind me. (And I wish the people who are From Here would stop making such a point of it, themselves.)

I don't know how long this congregation has been down to five people, but it seems its been long enough that they've become settled in their ways. To the pastor's wife, it probably felt as if I *did* offer to come clean her home. In her mind, that's her church. She cleans it. She decorates it. It's hers. I wouldn't even say she knows she's developed that attitude, honestly. She acted more offended by my offer than anything.

Same thing with not taking a fellowship break between Sunday School and the service. Everybody who comes is there, so let's just move on. It's comfortable for them, and it works... for them.

And the pastor's response to an offer of a warm body to help out when help is needed? I have no idea.

But I want to cry.

Saturday Wrap-Up

The game this morning was amazing. Both teams played their wee hearts out. The team they played today has an inordinate number of little guys, too, and that made the coaches from both teams out on the field look like the Gulliver family enjoying a reunion in Lilliput. John's team lost this game - something like 17 - 14. It was close, hard, and fast. Kids flying past home plate from both teams the entire time. Obviously, neither team has quite mastered the whole concept of "fielding the ball" yet. But they had fun, and there was no tension, no attitude, from the stands or the refs. It was what baseball should look like. Good, good stuff.

Zorak's making progress in the basement. He built a door for the Scary Room, strung more wire (thus bringing the rest of the lights up to code), and added a few much-needed outlets. There's only one more wire to run and we can put the cover back on the electrical box! WOOHOO! He also cleaned up a lot down there.

The boys tended the fire. And had a sword fight. Thankfully, not all at the same time.

Zorak built stilts for the boys, and they had a blast trying to master a new skill.

BabyGirl ran around in circles, fed the Baltoid by hand, and insisted on climbing the Terrifyingly Dangerous Stairs to the Very Dangerous Balcony. (Anyone know where I can get a shirt that says, "No, I do not know fear"?)

James just about made me cry when he hit a MAJOR "growing up" milestone today. He started to snap at one of his brothers (who was, admittedly, being a bit irritating), but he stopped himself, and corrected his tone - without prompting from an adult! Nobody said anything, he just caught it on his own. Oh! It was beautiful. *sniff* My baby's growing up.

I spent h-o-u-r-s decluttering. I swear our paper products must be made of rabbit. There's no way we have brought *that much* paper into the house in the last month, so it's got to be breeding. New House Rule: you may not leave any two sheets of paper unchaperoned for longer than one day. (And if that doesn't work, then all paper products will be checked at the door.)

The rest of the day was pretty much the same old stuff: we wrote, we read, we laughed; we talked, we ate, we worked. Well, I say "same old stuff", but it's the stuff that holds the day together amidst the decluttering and building and planning. That's the stuff that gives you the time to make eye contact more, and smile a little longer, and sit closer together. In that stuff is where you get to say to your children, "I'm here," and they get to say to you, "We know." Can't beat that, even if it's not hilarious or poignant or eloquent.

I don't know what I would do if it weren't for the downtime, the loud and raucous time, the together time. A friend said something a while back about how hard it would be to get things accomplished when you never get six hours during the day with all the children gone, to get things done, to regroup, and to take quiet breaks. At first, I thought, "well, yeah, that's true," but then I realized, "*pfft* who am I kidding? If I had six hours to myself every day, I wouldn't accomplish a darned thing. I'd put the coffee pot and half-gallon jug of creamer on my nightstand, dig out the stash of Zebra Cakes, and spend six hours every day reading in bed and eating myself into a coma!" Sure, it sounds heavenly for the first three or four hundred pounds, but eventually? No, let's face it - the life I have right now is exactly the life I need. They keep me focused, keep me honest, and keep me going. It's really, really good.

Kiss those babies!
~Dy

Citrus and Beverage Stands

Not-so-clever attempt at avoiding a cliche. ;-) There's that, and the Byrds (or Solomon's) To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven... *pfft* That is so much easier to say (or sing) and not mean (or to mean, but from a distance; makes a delightful third person pep talk), than to live and still say meaningfully. Let's just say I don't think the Book of Ecclesiastes was written by a hormonal woman. It's still wise, and good, and pertinent. It's just far easier to identify with at certain times. This is not one of those times.

But even so, it's been a good week.

Zorak did some concrete work in the basement this week and had a little leftover cement, so he got the boys together and they made "dinosaur eggs" using that and the plastic Easter egg remnants. Today they opened the molds, and the little eggs look great. We'll put some clutches out in the garden beds next week.

The horned toad we were planning to mummify... well, we packed it in salt so it wouldn't puff up and rot before we could buy the materials to preserve it. Then Zorak built a "tomb" to keep Baltoid out. And it seems the tomb was so well-concealed that we forgot about it. I'm mostly afraid to go look now. But we did get all the things to mummify it. Think we'll have another slightly cool day before summer hits full-on?

While everybody else was busy watching William the Conqueror and the Tapestry of Bayeux, both of which are excellent, I found this little gem...



And I've been giggling to myself all night.

Yes. It's been good.

Kiss those babies!
Dy

Too yummy not to share.

A cup (or so) of frozen blueberries.
One can of coconut milk.
Half a cup of cold water.
2 Tbsp. cooking oil (NOT olive, okay? Ew.)
1/4-ish c. sugar (or perhaps honey? Somebody try honey and let us know how it works!)

Dump all this into your blender. Fill it almot to the top with ice. Blend for two full minutes.

Goes great with lunch! (And look, Melissa, it's kinda healthy... And Amy, I didn't use the "t" word!)

Kiss those babies!
~Dy

Heh. Yeah.

Well, we had great morning lessons, and then, since the humidity wasn't stifling, we headed out-of-doors. (That sounds so formal, doesn't it?) The boys wanted to help me mark out a track for our walking/running plans (I've been wanting to do the Couch Potato-to-5K program), so we got started on that.

Um, what's less active than a couch potato? Would that be the eye of the potato, perhaps? Or just the skin? Whatever it is, that's me. Whoo-boy. The boys endeavored to make me feel better, though, by bolting back into the house for granola bars so they could snack while we trekked, and then back and forth for water breaks, and finally yet again for books to read. When I'd had enough of their mocking (and I couldn't breathe anymore), we plopped down in the grass with our books and inhaled gnats for a while. That was nice.

The boys did copywork and illustrations today, which they enjoy more than narrations, but less than, say, puppet shows. John copied and illustrated the opening lines to the poem, "My Town", by Lois Lenski. James chose a quote from Themistocles' teacher:

You, Themistocles, are destined to be something out of the ordinary. Great you will be one way or the other, either for good or for evil.

It was all uneventful until he showed me his illustration. Is that a loin cloth? "No," he says, "See, it's just like how they blur faces and private parts on TV, with the little squares. Cool, huh?"

(On TV? Where is he seeing blurred faces - OR private parts - on TV? Do I need to be keeping a closer eye on PBS?) Ahhh, moving along, then.

We made the pendant craft from Chapter 37 in SOTW. And we now have one tiny head, two brittle snakes, and three broken, chipped, or cracked pieces of pottery pendants lying about the kitchen. Probably not the best craft for this crowd. But by gum, we did it, and we enjoyed it! GO US!

Then we blew an hour and watched Radio, which made me cry, of course. The boys decided it would cheer me up if we went outside to play frisbee. They were right. That was a hoot!

Zorak arrived home to find his clan enjoying the afternoon breezes, running about, mowing the lawn, eating the pine cones. (I'll let you decide who was doing what. There was an awful lot of activity, and it's sometimes hard to keep it straight.) Really, it was good.

Then, thanks to our running and snuggling and mowing and squirrelling, the children peacably brushed and flossed and curled up for the bedtime read, but didn't make it through more than three pages. What a great day!

Kiss those babies!
~Dy