Jesus saves our skin

Claire went to a Sunday School class during our time in Stouffville.

On our way back to my parents' house, I asked her what her lesson was about.

"Skin" she replied.

"Oh" I said. I noticed that there were quite a few kids of color in the class when I picked Claire up at the end of the service.

A few seconds later Claire says, "Mom, I know why Jesus was borned."

"Yeah?" I said absentmindedly.

"Jesus came to die for our skin" she said.

It's been quite a week

Saturday Dec 13 - Sunday Dec 14:
Sweet, sweet bliss for me, Sarah, Dan, Carolyn, and Mom. Bed and Breakfast in Coulburg, ON (for my mom's 60th bday). Out for coffee, lunch, supper. Massages. Lots of talking, laughing, relaxing. AND we didn't miss the kids (though we did talk about them and the hubbies a lot!).

*On the home front in Stouffville - quite a different story. 7 kids under the age of 5. My dad and Joel in charge. They didn't say too much about how it went but the mountain of dirty diapers and bottles said it all.

Sunday Dec 14:
Spent the afternoon away from the house in an attempt to give my parents a break. Ended up at a mall. 7 kids. 3 adults. We tried to take a grocery cart out of Walmat (how else do we transport all the kiddies?) but the wheels locked up on us. Quite a scene. We couldn't find a play area so we spent way too much time in a tiny pet store looking at the puppies. They looked as pathetic and desperate as we did. We ended up walking to McDonalds down the road because they had a playplace.

Monday:
Ikea with 7 kids. We told my parents that we'd buy a futon for them (they need more beds). Bad idea. 5 carts. 3 adults. 7 kids. To top it off, 5 million people seemed to be buying futons and candles as well. Ikea is indeed kid friendly, just not 7 kid friendly.

Tuesday:
Stouffville library with 7 kids. Yet another bad idea. The kids terrorized the children's section. The librarians high fived each other when we left. In the afternoon Sarah and I (with 5 kids) drove to Uncle Joey and Auntie Carol's house to help her celebrate her bday. We came. We saw. We left their house a complete mess. Joel and Carolyn definitely high fived each other when we left.

Wednesday:
Made playdough for the kids. That gave us 10 minutes of quiet. Then, we spent 20 minutes putting on the kids' coats and snowpants and mitts and hats and scarves. 10 minutes later they all came back inside. Then, we got out the legos. 10 more minutes of quiet. Then, we stopped trying and just accepted the chaos.

Thursday:
Took my kids to Dad's school and we played in the kindergarten classroom all morning. In the afternoon we went out for coffee with Dan, Ruby and Nana. Lesson learned - Jacob is too high maintenance to take to a coffee shop. He started gnawing the espresso machine.

Friday:
Skated at the local ice rink. Yet another crazy idea. 5 kids and 2 adults (Dan stayed home with Jacob and Ruby). I about broke my back trying to teach Claire and David how to skate...at the same time. What was I thinking?

Saturday and on:
The fun will continue!! Can't wait for the boys/hubbies to join in the fun. Paul comes tonight. Aron tomorrow. Jon on Sunday. Pete on Monday.

Best Christmas Pageant Ever

Today Claire, David and I went to our local civic theater and watched a performance of The Best Christmas Pageant Ever.

This was a brand new experience for both of them. I had fun teaching them about the stage, about what to do when the lights go out, about how to applaud at the end and so on.

It was my first time seeing this play. I have to admit that I had tears in my eyes at the end. I'm not quite sure what it was but I think it was the reminder that all too often, it's the people we'd least expect who are the ones who really get the Christmas/Christian message.

David kept quiet the whole play (probably due to the fact that he was chewing on a piece of gum). I wasn't sure how much of the play he understood.

Right before the play ended though, one of the characters took baby Jesus (a doll) off the stage. Immediately, David blurted out in the most angry sounding tone that his rather high pitched little boy's voice could muster (small theater + we had front row seats = everyone heard), "Where is baby Jesus going?"

I think he got it.

"Mom - is this true?"

"Is this a true story Mom? Did it really happen?"

Lately Claire has been asking these kinds of questions. It seems important to her to find out which stories we read are ones that really happened or are ones that are "made up". It makes me laugh when I see her smugly decide it on her own, especially when it's a story that's any bit scary. "I know that didn't really happen" she says as I turn the page of Kimmel's Hershel and the Hanukkah Goblins and we gaze upon a spooky and mean looking goblin. "Goblins aren't real".

These kinds of conversations have me thinking about truth and Truth. The Narnia Chronicles, for example, didn't really happen but I think they're True. Same with The Lord of the Rings. I resist notions of truth being boiled down to historical fact because it posits history as neutral.

It strikes me that as an almost 5 year old, Claire's quest for "truth" is something that happened so naturally, so readily.

"Mom, why do you say ....."

David's latest:

Whenever I say an interesting or new or big word, David has gotten into the habit of saying to me, "Mom, why do you say _______"

This morning I told the kids that I was annoyed with their bickering. David responds, "Mom, why do you say annoying?"

It makes me laugh.

funny

Yesterday I found Jacob sitting by the bookshelf, at least 20 books on the ground beside him. He was eating a book cover. There was only half of the back cover still in tact.

The book?

Rich Christians in an Age of Hunger

Aptly chosen little one. Aptly chosen.

Just can't keep up with him...

Jon and I just can't keep up with Jacob. He seems to be always in something he's not supposed to...

eating the soil in our house plants,
putting his hands in the toilet,
climbing up the stairs,
opening up our garbage drawer and putting garbage out,
destroying Claire and David's toys,
and,
the very latest,
gnawing on the small tree that we have in our living room.

I kid you not.
It looks like there is a family of beavers in our house.

3 for 3

Ear infections aren't contagious.

Despite this, all three kids have ear infections (double ear infections to be precise).

Three different doctors visits this past week.

Three bottles of amoxicilian in our fridge door (all to be taken at different times and in different quantities).

Three different sounding coughs in the middle of the night (tag teaming each other).

Jon and I are tired but so thankful that having sick kids isn't the norm for us.

I've been chewing on this (sent to me from my mom)

My mom sends me things to read. The topics vary. Sometimes she finds things she knows I've been thinking about. Sometimes it's things she thinks I should be thinking about. Whatever it is, I always read them and I'm always prompted to think about something in them.

Over the years, my collection of photocopied articles and newspaper clippings has grown. So has my deep appreciation for this gift of learning, thinking and fostering dialogue among loved ones that my mom has modeled so well for me.

A recent article she sent me was entitled: The building blocks of being a dad (Larry Matthews, Globe and Mail, June 15, 2008). Though it's about being a dad, I think what Matthews writes about applies to both fathers and mothers.

He writes,

Fatherhood came to me at age 30, thrusting me into a role that was both mysterious and mundane. The mundane came in a barrage of infant needs. Thankfully my wife had prepared, studying how-to books well in advance of our son's birth, and bringing forward the collected wisdom of a durable Atlantic community. I served as the assistant, and was on a steep learning curve. One lesson I learned about the care of another human being that the mundane – the food and clothes and diapers and equipment – is inescapable. I have been slower to grasp the mystery...

...And that is the mystery – that helping raise these tiny creatures for whom I was responsible would create a profound desire for them own heart, and that a parent’s need for a child continues to grow. How utterly I have come to need my children, how deeply they move me, and how powerful they have become in my life.

...I caught a glimpse of a procession of fathers marching across the Canadian Tire parking lot. Each man is drawn by the child in front, the past pursuing the present and, through them, our hopes for the future. In my vision my father, who is 81, and will cross town to see his son, followed me and behind him, my grandfather, and behind him, my great-grandfather, all drawn forward by their daughters and sons.

In front of me strode my son, oblivious to my vision, and not thinking at all of the sons and daughters I hope he has some day, so they may teach him what it is to play freely, to need others deeply and to know pure joy.

The mundane and the mystery. I like that.

Some thoughts from "Taking Faith Home"

Every week at our church, there's a "Taking Faith Home" slip of paper to take home with us.

This week, there's a quote I really liked:

Christian parenting is not about having it all together or following a predetermined pattern. It involves living daily in dependence on God's grace and love in Christ. And as we do, we teach our children the most important lesson of all: that God is for and with them in Jesus, no matter what.

One step forward, two steps back

After spending hours plotting and planning how to get David to give up his pacifier, one night, as we were putting the kids to bed, we simply couldn't find the overused, fungus infected thing. We searched everywhere. It wasn't to be found.

We had a quick conference in our bedroom and decided to tell David the truth - that we couldn't find it and that he'd have to sleep without it. We expected screaming, crying, the works.

He went to sleep no problem.

Though he did wake up twice in the night and ask for it, he fell back to sleep both times after I tucked him back in.

He hasn't asked us for it since.

I will not miss those frantic 3 am searches under his bed, those army crawls in the car or minivan, trying to locate the blasted thing.

I will, however, miss my afternoon quiet times with Claire. Ever since giving up the soother, David has stopped taking afternoon naps. Occasionally now he'll fall asleep but it seems that my days of the boys napping in the afternoon while Claire and I sip tea and talk books is over.

Why did I want him to get rid of his pacifier again?!

Questions for Dad at dinner time

During dinner every night, the kids ask Jon two questions (and generally they fight about who gets to ask which question):

How was work?

How was the car ride?

I added the latter questions in an effort to quell the fighting between Claire and David over who got to ask Jon how his day went. But, as I should have guessed, adding a second question did not end the argueing. In fact, it only amplified it. Now they not only bicker over which question they get to ask but also about who gets to ask it first. AND, the irony is that they don't seem to paying attention to Jon's responses.

As a side note: I always love hearing Jon's answers because sometimes it's a struggle for him to put into words his 8 hour office job experience (particularly when he is working on a complicated airport project - hard to describe it in kidspeak) and his 1.5 hour car drive.

Yesterday after lunch David randomly asked me how work was (the twinkle in his eye when he asked it clearly communicated the fact that he knew he was being funny).

I told him that it was fine. Then I asked him the famous two questions. Here's how the exchange went:

Deb: David, how was work?
David: (pause) It was good.
Deb: How was the car ride?
David: (pause). Fine. I had a good book to listen to.

A good reminder to me that even when we don't think kids are listening, make no mistake, they are!

Semantics?

A few weeks ago I tried to convinced Jon that the reason we're so tired when we go to bed is that we live a full life. (I also suggested to him that some day, when we're older and having trouble falling asleep or sleeping in, we'll look back on this season of our lives and envy our abilities to fall asleep the minute our heads hit the pillows). I have to admit that I'm not sure he was convinced.

In a phone call with my dear friend Heidi, she commented to me that the difference between being "busy" and "living a full life" has got to be more than just semantics.

Right on.

And so, I work towards articulating that difference in words but also deeds.

Prior knowledge

It's been raining for the past few days. The kids and I have done a lot of playing indoors. Yesterday I helped them build a fort in their bedroom. It was fun.

It was even more fun to overhear the kids playing as I sorted through their summer and winter clothes.

Claire acted out Little House on the Prairie (books we've read together), the story in the Bible when Herod decided to kill all the baby boys (she and David had to run away from the giant so that her babies wouldn't get killed..there seems to be some confusion between the David and Goliath story and the Herod story), music class (she goes to music class once a week and led me, as "Mary" through one of the activities she does there), and preschool show and tell (she asked me the kinds of questions that her teacher asks her when she does show and tell).

In the education field, we talk a lot about students' prior knowledge and the importance of tapping into what they know and experience. Claire's collage of stories and experiences, all acted out in a 1 hour of rainy day play, reminds me of how complex and multifaceted kids/students are, and, of what an impossible job that teachers, and parents, have.

Multitasking

As a mom, I need to multitask...all the time.

Sometimes I think the cumulative effect of almost 5 years of doing this, has left me with a very short attention span (I think about this whenever I sit down to do my school work).

"A series of unfinished conversations" is how I like to describe some of my friendships with other moms of young kids. I just never seem to be able to finish a sentence when I talk with them as our kids play.

It's easy to frame this as a necessity, as something that I need to do, that moms have to do during this season of life. I've been wondering though if more of what I need to do is to live more fully in the present, in the moment, in the particular time, space, and task.

Picture this

David James wore a new flannel button down shirt yesterday. It was very cute on him.

Then, when we were playing "fort" upstairs, he decided that he wanted to wear a dress just like Claire. He picked out a pink ballerina outfit (complete with a tutu). He took off his jeans and pulled the dress over top of his flannel shirt. The dress was tight on him. This left him looking like a muscle man wearing a short pink dress.

Claire decided that she was "Ma", that David was "Pa" , that I was "Mary" and that Jacob was "baby Carrie" (from Little House...).

Watching bare legged "Pa" leave the fort to hunt deer (per Claire's command) was laugh out loud material.

Family game night

Our Sunday night family game night tradition has been going strong.

David generally picks the game "Have you seen my cat?" (which is hard to do with only 3 people in the circle but for some reason he LOVES playing it)

Jacob loves it when we sit him in the middle of our circle and sing "Ring Around the Rosie" around him.

Claire has been experimenting with her own made up games. Yesterday it was one that she modified from her music class. She distributed 3 objects to each of us (Jon, David and me) while we closed our eyes. She then calls out "Who has _____?" and we have to show the object if we have it.

I've taken it as my duty to introduce new games and activities. Last week we did Sculpturades with play dough. Last night we did finger puppet shows for each other.

We laugh a lot when we do family game night.
It's good.
For all of us.

My legs don't work

David's new line is: "My legs don't work". As he says it, he promptly falls on the ground and lays there, waiting for Jon or I to pick him up. We're not sure where it came from but he says this at least a dozen times each day.

Last night, as he was racing for the stairs, he noticed that Jon was carrying Claire on his back. Immediately he made his proclamation and proceeded to prostrated himself on the floor.

Claire, the oh so helpful big sister, yelled down the stairs, "Just crawl on your belly David".

The parable of the girl and her dolls/stuffed animals

We were reading the parable of the Good Shepherd a few nights ago after dinner.

Then, after I put the kids in bed am was kissing them good night, Claire practically burst into tears because her "Good night" bear was missing. Though there were at least 20 dolls and other stuffed animals carefully positioned around her, she waxed and waned quite poetically about how she couldn't fall asleep without him.

After a 15 minute search throughout the house, I located the bear and brought it up to her.

Just as in the parable, there was great rejoicing for the one that was lost and that was now found.

Claire's big debut

Last night we had our block party. And, as the grand finale, we had our annual talent show (I'm still trying to convince Jon to read poetry with me!). The kids on the block all do something or the other. This year, Claire surprised us by wanting to participate in it. She wanted to show all the neighbors that she could ride a two wheeler.

When it was her turn to perform, all the audience members turned their chairs to watch. She hopped on the bike. Jon stood behind her to help her get started. And then she took off in fine fine form.

And then...she fell. I think she started wobbling on the dirt (our street is under construction) and then tried to overcorrect herself. But, she fell. Her very first fall off her bike (she's a rather cautious and careful biker so she doesn't take a lot of risks). And, she cried a lot.

But five minutes later, she was back to her happy self, chowing down on the candy she got from the pinata and quite proud of the new scrapes on her knees.

I'm offended

I've tried really hard to make all my own baby food for Jacob. Frozen veggie cubes. Homemade baby cereal. The works.

Lately, none of it seems to appeal to him.

I wouldn't be so offended if he didn't have such a preference for dirt, sand, wood, and all things found on the ground. And if he didn't smile so large and beautiful with his mouth full of it.

Come on kid. My cooking has got to taste better than a mouthful of dirt.

I only have two hands MOM

As I was making supper yesterday, David was in the kitchen with me, wanting to help set the table.
He had two plastic cups in his hands and was going to bring them to the table.
I ask him to also take some forks and spoons.
He stood there with a cup in each hand, holding them out to me.
"I only have two hands MOM" he said as if I had just asked him the silliest thing in the world.

It's an honor

Claire just learned how to ride a two-wheeler. Tonight.

David has mastered riding Claire's old bike with training wheels.

Jacob laughs out loud whenever we sing "Ho Ho Ho Hosanna" after supper.

Claire is reading words...everywhere.

It's an honor to be part of all these "firsts".

Yes you can...

Tonight as I was putting the kids to bed, David made yet another request for something. Usually it's a drink of water, his other soother, a flashlight, a book, or another pillow. Tonight it was for a flashlight.

I tried looking for it in all the usual places and couldn't find it.

Out of frustration I said, "David, I can't find the flashlight"

"Yes you can Mom" he replied. "Just use your hands"

No, I'm DAVID

David has been asserting his sense of self lately.

Every time I call him "Honey", or "Pumpkin" or when I give him a compliment (David - you are so creative...or funny...etc), he retorts,

"No I'm NOT. I'm DAVID"

So true.

Playing CDs on the Tape Record

Our dear friend Grandma Elly let Claire and David borrow her 35 year old Fisher Price record player. They have been playing with it nonstop.

Yesterday, as I was feeding Jacob in the living room and Claire and David were playing with it on the front porch, I heard Claire yell across the street to our neighbor Valerie.

"Miss Valerie! We have a tape record. I put a CD on it and it's a tape record"

Yes. She is a child of her day and age.

I have such fond memories of sitting in front of the huge speakers (on the floor in our living room and about the same height as me) and gazing at Raffi records as I listened to his music (yes, this is where the obsession started).

CDs, MP3 players, ipods, and podcasts are what my kids will remember.

Sin Boldly

Here's what I've been chewing on lately...

It's from a book that my friend Jane recommended I read. The book's called Sin Boldly. It’s written by Cathleen Falsani, a religion columnist for the Chicago Sun-Times.

Here’s what she writes in one chapter:

A friend of mine, who lost his mother when he was a young teen, believes that the love of a mother for her child, that unconditional love that the Greeks called agape is, in fact, the first experience humankind has with grace. Mothers, and women in general, he argues, are special vessels of grace, both for their own children and for others. The disposition of the soul of a woman who is a mother is open to the flow of grace in a special way because of the powerful selflessness mothering engenders in creators for their creation. (p. 171)

Falsani then goes on to describe how a group of women in Kenya…mothered her “in a way that forever changed the way I think about motherhood and grace.”

Though I don't feel particularly "grace-full" this evening (I wasn't very patient with the melt-downs that all 3 kids had), I do feel refreshed and renewed with this quote - ready to lavish them with my small attempts at grace.

Fighting about EVERYTHING

I remember fighting with my 4 siblings about lots of things when we were younger.

But I don't remember fighting over the seemingly absolutely silliest, littlest, most insignificant things that my kids seem to do.

The color of plate, fork, spoon or cup that I give them at lunch. One particular marker out of a pile of 50. A toy that has been neglected for months all of a sudden becomes the toy of choice for both of them.

As I'm writing this, I notice that Jon has left his clothes on the floor AGAIN and it irks me.

Hmm. I suppose in the big scheme of things - this is pretty insignificant as well.

Belly dancers

Last night we went downtown and watched the street performers. It's become our Thurs night routine - the kids absolutely love it.

Jon and I have been intrigued by the kids' favorite performers. One might think that the balloon artist or the clown or the mime artist or even the yo-yo guy. Nope. Not my kids.

David can't stop talking about the 45 year old belly dancer.

Claire wants to be one of the fire eating Aerial Angels.

And Jacob? He seemed enthralled with the henna tattoo artist we watched for awhile (but then again he was also filling his pants at the time...)

Synonyms

David appears to be quite good at understanding synonyms.

Conversations like this have been happening quite frequently in our home:

Me: "Claire - did you take David's toy away? [Claire LOVES to antagonize her brother and then pretend she hasn't done anything wrong] That wasn't very kind."
David: "Yeah. That wasn't very nice Claire."

In such conversations I've substituted words like: thoughtful/loving/caring OR have gone the other direction and described her actions as annoying/mean/etc. None of it phases David. Without a pause he always vehemently jumps in with his declaration that what she did to him "wasn't very nice".

We were at Jon’s Aunt and Uncles the other day and David came up the steps from the lake ready to pee.

David while holding his crotch, “I have to go pee.”
Uncle Marion’s dry wit, “It happens to the best of us.”
David’s wise reply, “I know.”

Deb was not here for this one, but I thought this fit so well here I would add it.
-Jon

A tender moment in our attic

Last week while the boys were napping, Claire and I did some organizing in our attic. I finally have a system for my kids clothes and am working on the final few boxes whenever I get a chance. On this particular afternoon, Claire was helping me sort through her old (3T) clothes.

As she was doing so, exclaiming every now and then, "Oh, I LOVED wearing this", she paused for a moment. There were tears in her eyes. She said, "I'm sad - I wish that I were still 3. I miss wearing these clothes."

We talked for a bit about how it's exciting to grow older but that it also can be scary.

Yet another reminder to me that kids so often really do "get it".

repeating...

Lots of people have commented on David's ability to talk in complete sentences. And it's true, he really does talk in complete sentences.

He's also been doing a lot of repeating of what I say.

The other day, after a successful moment on the potty, and, after only taking one Skittle (his reward), I said to him as I was helping him put on his boxer briefs, "You're such a good boy David".

He replied,
"You're such a good Mommy."

What's David been up to?

I took the kids to downtown Holland last week to see the street performers. David was enthralled with the "treeman" (a guy walking on stilts dressed like a tree). Right when he saw him, he said to me "not scared Mom" which surprised me because David can get pretty spooked out with unusual things (lest we forget his panic attack on our church retreat when he saw 2 people dressed up as moose hunters).

He's also been enamored with his recent trips to the Aquatic Center where he likes to "step on the sprinklers" on the playset.

And, he loved going to Centennial Park and hearing the outdoor music concert.

I love hearing him recount these events. Sometimes it takes him about 5 or 6 tries. "And I went...And I went...And I went...And I went DOWNTOWN"

Back seat jam session

On our way home from the beach the other night, Claire started singing one of her made up songs.

It went something like:

"And if you don't share your toys with your brother than God isn't happy and you will have to go on time out and God wants you to do good things even when your brother is crying"

Let's talk about....God

Claire and I have been trying to have tea time at 3pm on most afternoons. We've established some rituals together, one of which is that we select a topic to talk about as we sip our tea and eat our special treat. I've chosen topics like animals, vacation, birthdays in the past.

Last week Claire wanted to pick the topic. "Let's talk about....(big pause)...God".

She then proceeded to tell me her latest theological musings about God (per her recent VBS teachings I'm assuming).

Me: What should we say about God?
Claire: God loves us and kisses us and hugs us.
Me: How does he do that?
Claire: Mom - do you really not know or are you pretending?
Me: Um...

I'm still trying to figure out how Claire imagines God (who she actually still thinks dresses up as Santa Claus) gives her hugs and kisses.

Tone of voice...

Sometimes I wonder if what I say to the kids ever gets through to them.

One thing I've been working on with Claire is the tone of her voice when she asks for something, or expresses discontent (complains). I've been telling her that some of the ways she says things isn't respectful to me or to others. And, I wasn't sure if she was actually getting it.

Last night, in a moment of frustration (I was decoupaging pictures on a stool for my niece Tianna and getting glue everywhere), I told the kids to "back off and give me some space". Yup. I really said that.

Claire immediately retorted: "If you use that tone of voice again, I will not give you the picture."

A whole new world (s)

Yesterday I took Claire's sheets off her bed to wash them.

As I was doing so, I discovered, or perhaps better put, unearthed, dozens of carefully organized stacks, piles, groups, and line-ups of toys, hair accessories, dolls, stuffed animals, and special treasures.

I just finished reading a book about an anthropologist so "fieldwork" and learning about new civilizations was on my mind. I couldn't help but be amazed at this little world that Claire had created for herself up in her top bunk.

It was so carefully designed. It was so intentionally placed.

It was so Jon :)

Ball-ball goes bed-bed

Out of the blue, Claire started referring to a small bouncy ball as her "ball ball", a ball baby that needs her as a mother. On our evening stroll through the neighborhood the other night, she cradled Ball-ball, took her/him down the slide at the park, and then washed and put the little darling to bed with her.
David, of course, did the same with his own ball.

Jacob update

The kid has 4 teeth and puts himself in the crawling position.

And, he's 6 months old already.

Where did the time go?

Santa and Jesus

Today when we were reading our chapter in On the Banks of Plum Creek (3rd Little House in the Prairie series), Claire and I had a little discussion about Santa being real or not.

"Santa's not real, he's really Jesus" was her conclusion on the matter. Then, when pressed, she changed her story a little. "Santa has Jesus in his heart."

Claire and I make up a story

After reading our two chapters of Little House on the Prairie, Claire and I made up stories together - I say a part of the story and then she makes up the next part and so on. I recorded one of them below:

Me: One day, Ma and Pa decided to go to town.

C: But Laura stayed home with Ma and Mary went off the school by herself and Mary saw a car and her ran across the street and her telled the teacher that a car almost hit me and when we went back her tell Ma and Pa that I almost got crashed by a car. Is Laura here? Her's sleeping. Her was gone and we didn't see her under the blankets anywhere and her runned across the street by herself and her ran to a far away country California. And Baby Carrie was sleeping and her cried all day and her fell fast asleep.

Me: And then, new neighbors moved next door beside Ma and Pa and Mary and Laura (No Mom - don't you remember that Laura left?) and baby Carrie.

C: A little boy. His name was Asher. And he cried a lot.

Me: So Mary decided to babysit Asher.

C: Actually, Laura is in the North Pole and then she went to California and she she went back to the North Pole and then her decided to live in California.

Me: Mary and baby Asher and baby Carrie played some fun games.

C: But her's cried a lot and didn't like the games but Mary didn't care because Ma picked her up and rocked her in a chair that Pa made her and her fell fast asleep at night time and Laura came back home for one second to get a drink of water and then her left to go back to California.

Me: Ma and Pa missed Laura so much that they decided to find her in California [No Mom - they went to the North Pole].

C: And when they looked in the North Pole they didn't find her but they found a head. Do you know what head that was? It was Jack's. He was buried in a hole and was stuck but he got out.

Me: Then they started asking people if they had seen a little girl named Laura.

C: But noone said yes but man who lived in the North Pole he said Laura is in Michigan.

Me: So Ma and Pa drove the wagon all the way to Michigan to find her. They went to a city named Holland and went to look for Laura at the beach there.

C: But they didn't find her.

Me: They got really sad and started to cry because they wanted Laura back home.

C: Soon they looked in California and they found her. They cried and cried and said we miss you and miss you and love and joy and they said a Christmas song and they said a song: Good news good news and unto Bethlehem is born a boy [at this point, Claire is singing]. And Laura started singing with them. And they were so happy to see Laura again and they gave her 500 kisses.

The End.

Hmm

A friend and I recently had a conversation about how to talk about and use alcohol in the presence of our children.

She asked me what Jon and I have done.

I told her that we haven't talked specifically about it to the kids.

I then had an immediate flashback to the previous night when, at dinnertime, David looked at my glass of red wine on the table and said "Not beer Mom. It's wine."

Do you dare me Mom?

Claire has discovered the world of "dares".

I think she picked it up from a neighbor friend of hers, but I don't quite think she learned the whole concept.

At breakfast this morning:

Claire: Mom, do you dare me to eat my cereal? (she's already eating it)

Mom: OK. I dare you.

Claire takes a big bite of cereal. Big smile. Then she says "I did it."

Oh...of course

Claire drew a family picture today and then described it to me. The stick figure that represented herself had squiqqly lines all over the head. When I asked her what that was all about she replied,

"The wind is blowing my hair".

Of course.

Then, when I asked her to draw a picture of Grandma, she came back with a picture of a rainbow. I asked her where Grandma was and she said very matter of factly,

"The airplane came here (she pointed to a spot in the picture) and then Grandma got on it and then it flew off the page."

Of course.

Of weddings and things...

I remember when Jon and I got married and my mom and dad gave us a long list of names of people they wanted to come (it probably wasn't long but it felt like that to me!).

Yesterday Jon and I went to the wedding of the son of one of our friends. Our names were on that long list of parents' friends that the bride and groom "had" to invite.

It felt right to be there, to be there more for our friends than for the bride and groom. As I sat there in the back of the church nursing Jacob, I teared up as I watched our friends walk their grown son down the aisle. All those late night feedings, those discussions when the kids are in bed about how best to parent, all the worries and joys and fears and hopes wrapped up together in a celebration of a child leaving his parents and starting his own family.

As I watched all of the college friends of the bride and groom interact, I reflected on the 10 years that have passed since I graduated from college. I remember that sense of possibility, of having the world at your feet, of being overwhelmed at the many different paths my life could have taken.

And, as I listened to the sermon on marriage, I reflected on my own marriage. It's good to hear wedding sermons through the lenses of one's own marriage. It's good to remember your own excitement on your wedding day. It's good to hear the vows again. It's good to celebrate God's goodness and faithfulness in marriage relationships.

It was a great wedding.

Keri the super star babysitter

Keri, one of our Hope super star babysitters, moved in with us this past week.
She just got back from a semester in Australia and is taking a one month class at Hope. She doesn't have a ton of money and needed a place to stay, so we offered our house.

It's beautiful to see how much our kids love being with her. She plays with them, she makes them laugh, she enjoys spending time with them.

And we enjoy her. She inspires me to play more, to live life more fully.

"They are the best times..."

After church this morning, an older couple stopped to talk with me. They obviously knew who I was because the gentleman made some sort of comment about how he couldn't believe I had three kids already, that he remembered me back when Jon and I were just married. I made some comment about how I'm much busier now.

Then he said, in a reflective sort of way, "Those are the best times you know. They're hard but they're also the best."

I think this is now about the 10th time someone has said something like this to me in the past few months. The timing of these comments always come at strangely appropriate times. Last night at dinner, Jon and I were both hot, tired, and annoyed at our unappetizing food selection and unruly kids. We didn't have a good meal.

Is it a matter of romanticizing life with small, demanding children? Is it a matter of forgetting what it's like to feed a baby several times in the night, to break up fights between a 2 and 4 year old over who gets what color of plate, to discover a dirty diaper on your way out the door when you're already late for something?

Or, it is something that people in my stage of life need to constantly be reminded of? That because of the immediate/extensive demands that young children present, we don't or perhaps even can't always have that glorious "this is such a privilege to be able to do with" perspective unless those outside of our demographic remind us of this.

I had forgotten

I had forgotten how time and energy intensive potty training is.

Between constantly asking David if he has to go to the bathroom and then cleaning up after him when he forgets and then applauding him when he remembers, it's a lot of work.

I had forgotten some of the things that happened when I was potty training Claire. It's funny how they're now resurfacing, in very acute ways.

The time when she peed as she was sitting on my lap during a meal. The time she peed when we were out shopping and because I had neglect to bring any extra clothes along, we left the store (and the puddle) wet. The time we went hiking with Claire and she tried to poop in the woods a dozen times. The many hours we spent reading potty training books to her, trying to get her used to the idea of using the toilet.

These experiences have taught me a few things. With David, we skipped the literature and went straight to the bribing (fruit loops and marshmellows). This past week we haven't ventured out of the house unless it was absolutely necessary. We move the potty to whichever room he's in. We're hesitant to declare success because we know it takes time.

Something I did remember about Claire and potty training was the absolutely euphoric feeling I had when she finally learned. I can't wait to feel it again.

Potty party

We're partying around the potty these last few days in the hopes that David will enter the world of the toilet trained.

We've only had nominal success so far but my enthusiasm for not having 2 kids in diapers will not be dampened. I'm banking on the success we had with Claire. Her big moment was when Grandma bought her "big girl underwear" and commented that it must feel so nice when they are dry.

Aunt Laura bought David the cutest boxer/briefs and he struts around the house in them as if he's been wearing them for years.

There was a moment today when I decided I would take a picture of him in his "big boy underwear". It had been a good few hours and I thought we were making progress. I wanted to document the achievement.

On my way to get the camera I slipped on the puddle of pee in the living room.

Kathryn Grace and Asher Kallum

My good friend Heidi just had her 3rd baby - Kathryn Grace.
My sister Sarah also just had her 3rd baby - Asher Kallum.

Beautiful names. Beautiful babies. Rock star mammas.

Changes

Jacob sprouted his first two teeth (just today).

David wore "big boy underpants" for half an hour (we're still have a long way to go before he's potty trained but the journey has officially begun!).

Claire is now very proficient at swinging on a swing all by herself.

These changes are inevitable. They need to be celebrated. But they also represent the many small steps to independence that my children will take in the years to come. And they are all good reminders that I need to be celebrating the present.

"I want to marry David"

Claire told me the other day that she wants to marry David when she grows up.

I'm trying to figure out what her concept of weddings and marriage is.

I'm also becoming more acutely aware of how when Jon and I interact (verbal, nonverbal, etc), we are also forming this concept.

Switch-er-roo

This past week we switched the kids' bedroom to the room that's been our guest room.

It was scary to find all the "treasures" that ended up under and behind the bunk beds (we learned what Claire and David do after we say good night to them).

The plan is to have the three kids in the same room and then have the other room be the guest room/office for me.

The trouble is that the kids' dressers don't quite fit.

We briefly mentioned to Claire that she might have her own room someday.

To this she vehemently disagreed. "I would be lonely without David" she said.

Fence Fest 2008

Fence Fest 2008 was a success.

We had over 100 people attend our second annual backyard Fence Fest, a celebration of the fence that we share with our backyard neighbors the Johnsons.

The day started with wiffle ball (Jon's highlight). Then we had opening ceremonies (a reading of "Mending Wall", a liturgical dance through the fence gate, a retelling of the fence story) and feasting and frolicking.

The kids had a blast and managed to eat more junk food in a few hours that they probably have had in the past year (already at such young ages they have learned that when Mom is busy and preoccupied they can pretty much get away with whatever!)

We're already looking forward to next year's celebration.

Are kids really that different ?

I've been thinking a lot about how so often we, as adults, make comments or observations about kids and write it off as just a development stage or something of the sort.

Here's some examples:

Middle school girls are so cliquey.
Kids love attention.
Kids love to show off.

Claire and her friend Noel were playing in the backyard and were talking. This is what I heard:
Noel: I have to go. OK. Bye.
Claire: I have to go too. I have to go to the parade.
Noel: I have to go to the parade too.
Claire: I have to go to the parade and the wedding.
Noel: I have to go to the parade and I'm in a wedding.
Claire: I'm in a parade and in a wedding.
Noel: I'm the flowergirl.
Claire: I'm in the parade and I'm going to play the tuba.
It's hard to capture the conversation in print because with each new idea, the girls were raising their voices a little more and standing closer and closer to each other.

As I heard this, I smiled and thought that kids sure do love to play "one up" on each other.

And then I remembered that in different but not so different ways adults (me) do this too.

I don't have time right now Mom

Here's another "I heard this from Mom and now I'm using it on her" saying from Claire.

I asked her to help me find David's pacifier. She retorted:

"I don't have time right now Mom. I'll get to it when I'm finished with this."

Tell me a story when you were little...

Claire still loves to hear stories about when I was young. So, I tell her what I can remember.

When I was at my parents' place this past weekend, I asked my parents for their version of the stories I told.

Their versions were quite different. For some of the stories, I got people, places, dates and times mixed up. It's made me reflect on memories and how subjective our experiences really are.

When my mom flushed her glasses down the toilet during our trip to Niagara Falls, she remembers being much more angry at herself than sad. My version, as a 8 year old (or so), was that it was one of the most traumatic things that could have happened to her, to our family.

It makes me wonder how Claire and David will remember the memories we are creating each and every day.

Building up our repetory

Claire and I finished reading Ramona Quimby the Pest.

It seemed apt to be reading it while we were hanging out with my sister Danielle who had many Ramona-like moments in her childhood (I must admit that as we were looking at some of her old pictures and laughing about her funny experiences I was jealous as my childhood memories seem to typify the Beezus character in the book, the "boring" older sister).

In one of my books about children's literature, the author writes that reading books together with your kids is important to do because it increases your repertory of shared experiences/stories/names/places etc.

It's true.

Claire and I have shared quite a few laughs lately as we've referenced characters/stories that we've read in the last few months. We "boinged" Auntie Dan's hair (just like Ramona does to Susan), Claire pointed out a little piece of Kleenex and said it would be perfect for Stuart Little, and we made "mushy gushy Valentines" like what Junie B. Jones got.

Here's the gang.

What a fun week we had together. An Iranian restaurant. A thrift store buying extravagance. Garage sale treasure hunting. Happy hour every afternoon. Good walks, talks, eats, treats.

I'm already looking forward to doing this again (maybe next time with Danielle, Ruby and Sarah and her gang of three!)

The eye of the storm

The kids and I just came back from spending a week with my parents in Toronto, ON. We met up with my sister Danielle and her darling baby Ruby (3 weeks older than Jacob).

Somehow I managed to survive the 8 hour drive with the kids. In fact, for much of the trip there, I felt like I was not only surviving but was, in fact, thriving. I remember looking at the clock at 4pm (after having been on the road all day) and wondering why so many people commended me for trying to accomplish such a daring feat.

Then I hit the eye of the storm, or perhaps better described in the plural: Toronto rush hour traffic on hour 7 of our 8 hour trip, pouring rain, car on empty, a screaming infant, a 4 year old who somehow got her seatbelt unbuckled and who couldn't buckle it again and so was screaming "The policeman is going to give me a ticket", a 2 year old who dropped his pacifier, AND no place to pull over.

I managed to find an on ramp with extra shoulder space and so pulled off to feed Jacob. While I was doing this, a tow truck pulled up in front of our van and a guy came out and popped his head in our window. I assured him that everything was fine though I'm sure he wasn't convinced. In fact I don't think the kids were convinced either. They were probably still processing some of the new four letter words that they heard me say. After this frantic feeding fest, rebuckling and pacificer reuniting, we got back on the highway and had the worst luck trying to find a gas station.

But, then we got to my parents. And then everything was fine. I'm 33 and it still feels so good to have my parents take care of me!

The ride home wasn't as bad. A 1/2 hour wait at the border and a few minor meltdowns here and there but overall, quite a fun adventure.

What does this say about my life?

I couldn't be happier (well, ok, I'm using hyperbole but only as an important rhetoric device to make my point).

Jon installed closet organizers in the 3 bedroom closets, fixed the crumbling plaster on their walls and primed each closet.

I love it. I absolutely love it. I got great pleasure today putting clothes in these closets. I even tried out new and different ways of organizing clothes in the organizers.

What does this say about my life?

(and, this, my readers, is also a rhetoric device as the question does not beg an answer however witty or smart)

"Daddy says so"

The latest David-ism is his assertive retort: "Daddy/Mommy/Papa/Nana/whoever else says so"
He loves to use this line when someone is getting him in trouble for doing something he's not supposed to.

What you said?

The latest Claire-ism is something she says whenever she doesn't quite hear what someone says. She asks:
"What you said?"

Ms. Deb and Mr. Jon

The kids have started calling Jon and I, "Mr. Jon" and "Ms. Deb".

We're not quite sure why but they think they're quite funny.

We did too,

at first.

Wonder

Children should have “a sense of wonder so indestructible that it would last throughout life, as an unfailing antidote against the boredom and disenchantment of later years, the sterile occupation with things that are artificial, the alienation from the sources of our strength”
Rachel Carson – The Sense of Wonder (p. 42-3)

Today, the kids and I went to one of the Tulip Time parades. Both kids were wide-eyed at the shiny instruments, the colorful flags being waved about, the horses, the music.
It was magical for them.

What can I do to help make their sense of wonder "indestructible"? How can I regain my own?

Of taking Tulip Time photos

This evening Jon and I dressed all three kids in Dutch costumes and tried to take a few photos of them.

We got a few good shots but I have to admit that it was not exactly a fun experience for me.

First of all, I couldn't figure out what went where. Claire's dress had a white lace thing that didn't seem to fit anywhere and her lace hat had two parts to it that didn't seem to go together. David's outfit was five sizes too big. We could barely get Jacob's on without him trying to put the entire shirt in his mouth. We had to enlist Grandma Elaine's help from across the street.

Then, I got stressed out at trying to get all three kids to look at the camera at the same time. After this proved to be next to impossible, I tried to make sure that nobody was crying while Jon snapped a few pictures. That stressed me out too.

Here's the kicker.

My favorite picture of the unsuccessful and overly stressful photo shoot was one that Jon took right outside our front door (right after I yelled at him for taking a picture of the kids in their incorrectly assembled Dutch costumes). It's of David looking at a tulip. Nothing fancy. Just a great shot of a kid checking out a beautiful yellow tulip.

Nothing stressful about that.

A prisoner of hope...

I've been reading Katherine Paterson's essays on reading and writing for children (Gates of Excellence and The Spying Heart).

Gosh. So many great things in them.

Here's an excerpt from an essay entitled "On Hope and Happy Endings":

"So the hope of my books is the hope of yearning. It is always incomplete, as all true hope must be. It is always in tension, rooted in this fallen earth but growing, yearning, stretching toward the new creation. I am sure that it does not satisfy children in the sense that Cinderella or Jack the Giant Killer will satisfy them. I know children need and deserve the kind of satisfaction that they may get only from the old fairy tales. For children whoa re still hungry for happily ever after, my endings will be invariably disappointing. Children need all kinds of stories. Other people will write the stories they can write, and I will write the stories I can write.

When I write realistic novels, I will be true as best I am able to what is. But I am, as Zechariah says, a prisoner of hope. My stories will lean toward hope as a sunflower toward the sun. The roots will be firmly in the world as I know it, but the face will turn inevitably toward the peaceable kingdom, the heavenly city, the loving parent watching and waiting for the prodigal’s return. Because, by the grace of God, that is truth for me and all who share this hope."

Stuart Little

Claire and I are now reading E. B. White's Stuart Little.

As I read it to her, I catch glimpse of myself as a child, reading this story and absolutely delighting in it. I vividly remember examining the illustration of the little cigarette box that Stuart uses as a bed. I remember being disgusted with Snowbell the cat. I remember wishing that I could somehow be transported into Stuart's world and drive around in his little car.

I long for that childhood experience again. My adult sensibilities push out my 9 year old self. They bring up annoying questions and comments: It's not possible for Mr. and Mrs. Frederick C. Little to have a son who is a mouse. Why is it that nobody steps on Stuart's car? Where does he get gas? The storekeeper smokes a cigarette? How does Stuart age so fast?

David's pacifiers

Claire's a thumb sucker. David's addicted to his pacifiers (plural indeed).

I can't tell you how many times Jon and I have lost and then tried to find his pacifiers...right before leaving for a trip, in the middle of the night, and so on.

A few months back, we thought we'd be smart and put all 3 of his pacifiers in bed with him.

The trouble is, however, that David started getting used to holding all 3 pacifiers. One in his mouth. One in his left hand. One in his right hand. When we give him a pacifier now, his immediate response is "three"

At least he now knows how to count up to three.

...in the whole wide world

"Mommy, what's your favorite color in the whole wide world?" Claire asked me as we were driving home from grocery shopping.

"Well, I think it's red" I replied. "What's yours?"

"I like purple." She said. She quickly added, "And pink. And blue. And green. And yellow. And red. And white. They're all my favorites."

And why not?

Happy chickens?

Never underestimate the capacity of a child to overhear what parents talk about.

Jon and I have been reading books about organic and local food lately and we like to talk about them during dinner.

Last week, we ate eggs for breakfast.

In between mouthfuls, Claire said, "Are these eggs from happy chickens"?

Claire's first ballet

Last week I took Claire to her first ballet performance, a performance based on Max Lucado's book, You are Special.

Claire wasn't exactly enthralled the whole time. She frequently asked me when it would be over. She told me more than once that she was tired. She also took very seriously her job to distribute peppermints during the performance to her friends (we went with 10 neighbor kids and their moms).

Despite all of this, she was intrigued with the dancers. When one of them danced off the stage, she said in a rather loud voice, "I bet she had to go to the bathroom".

When it was over, we got to meet the dancers outside of the theater. Some of them signed Claire's program. I took pictures. This was where Claire got so excited that all she could do was suck her thumb and gaze adoringly at "the pretty dancers".

Hotel adventures

We spent the past weekend in London, ON. My cousin Michelle (aunt Michelle to our kids) just defended her PhD dissertation and we were invited to her PhD completion party.

We stayed in a hotel room with my parents, the third time we've done so. The kids absolutely loved it - the time spent with Nana and Papa, the swimming pool, the fact that there was a TV in front of the beds, that there was an elevator, that we ate out in restaurants.

The first time we stayed in a hotel (last fall when we met up with my parents in Sarnia and visited my Pake in the hospital), Claire didn't quite know what to think of it. On our way back to the hotel after eating dinner, she said, "When we get back to our new home, can I watch TV?"

We all laughed at the time, as we imagined what might be going on in her mind, on how she was trying to making sense of her new experience.

Now that I reflect on it, I realize her concept of "home" is profound. Home to her was having the people she loved be around her. Mommy, Daddy, Nana, Papa, David...throw in a few beds, towels, clothes and TV (!) and she was all set.

Why does "home" for me get so complicated with things and possessions and stuff?

Cousin Ruby's funny travel adventure

I just got off the phone with my sister Danielle. She, Paul and baby Ruby got back from a 2 week visit to Prague (to visit my brother Pete). And, within that visit to Prague, they went to Tunisia for a "resort vacation", a resort vacation that went awry, a resort vacation story that made me laugh so hard that I had tears coming out of my eyes.

I'm sure that Dan will write about it some day so I won't even try to describe it here.

But, one of the things Dan and I talked about is how traveling with kids changes the whole travel experience. One of my favorite quotes is something about how traveling is not just about seeing new horizons, but it's also about seeing with new eyes. I like it because of the reminder that traveling allows us to see new people and places, but it also nudges us to see ourselves and our place in the world differently, in ways that we weren't able to before.

I think that traveling with kids adds yet another layer to this metaphor of seeing. Though Jon and I don't have a ton of experience with this (Atlanta, Vancouver, CA being the only "far" places we've taken our kids), I've noticed that when I do travel with my kids, I am much more acutely away of my role of parent, of the responsibility I have in taking care of them. In part, I "see" new people and places through those lenses.

They remind me of something I should be aware of all the time: of what an awesome (used in the inspiring sense) and humbling role it is to be a parent.

Eating peanuts

On the way home from our weekend trip to London, ON, the kids were snacking on peanuts.

"This one looks like a dolphin in the water" Claire said, holding up half of a peanut.

Wow. I had never thought of examining peanuts for their unique shapes. I tend to just shovel them in my mouth (I have issues with eating food too quickly).

It made me remember when my siblings and I would lie in the grass of the park down the street from where we lived. We would look up at the clouds and tell each other what we thought they looked like.

Thanks Claire for reminding me of this, for reminding me to delight in things that get overlooked.

Dinnertime routines

When we're finished with dinner, we read the Bible (children's versions) and then sing songs. This has become quite a routine. In fact, when David has finished eating the food on his plate (a generous way to describe the little bits of food that he actually eats), he looks at me and says "Alive, Alive" (his latest favorite song).

We have quite the short list of favorite songs. For awhile it was "Swing Low, Sweet Chariot" and "Only a Boy Named David".

Now it's "Alive, Alive" and "Waves of Mercy". The kids love to run around and dance for this last song just like our song leaders did during our church retreat. Claire usually bumps into a wall or David at some point during her dance. David usually falls down in a dizzy fit because he turns around so much. But, both kids are so excited to be singing our "Bible songs" that neither one of them minds.

I don't think God does either.

Jacob is 4 months old

I can't believe that Jacob will be 4 months old tomorrow.

He's rolling over. He's laughing. He's starting to grab at toys. His cheeks are filling out (I take full credit for that). He loves to stare at things with his big blue eyes.

I can't imagine our family without him.

Claire's literacy skills

It's been so fun to watch Claire's developing literacy skills. OK. That was too grad school-ish. It's been fun to watch Claire learn how to write.

Lately, she loves to try to write new words and will ask me, letter by letter, how to spell them.

She likes to write the words on white paper and sometimes composes them into a card or a list.

She then likes to put them in an envelope and place it in our mailbox for the mail carrier to take.

MONK-e-mail

David has become obsessed with watching MONK-e-mails.

Every time he sees my computer, he says "funny monkey mom". And sometimes, if he's really desperate to see it, he'll add "peese?" in a slightly higher and quieter and softer tone that demonstrates he's mastered the art of pleading.

I usually give in.

Claire's first movie theater experience

Yesterday Grandma took Claire to the movie theater for the first time.

They had a wonderful time watching Horton hears a Who.

When I asked her what it was like, she told me that the "TV" was as big as "Eli's TV" (which is actually isn't). She then launched into a long plot summary of the film.

And then, when it was time to put on play clothes, she went into hysterics because we couldn't find her shorts.

Ah. Being a mom sometimes means that I pick up the pieces when the excitement of a new experience dies down and my kid realizes how exhausted she really is.

Festival of Faith and Writing

For the third time, I took a baby with me to Calvin's biannual Festival of Faith and Writing. In 2004, it was with 4 month old Claire. In 2006, it was with 2 month old David. This past weekend it was with Jacob.

I always enjoy going to this festival. It's just fun to be around other people who love literature. It's inspiring to hear what smart and gifted writers have to say. And, it's always a blast to hang out with my mom, her friend Willene, and my sisters (when they can come). This year, Sarah and Mom Van Duinen came.

This year I went to many of the sessions geared toward children's/young adult literature. It was a new experience for me. In the past, I've always gone to hear authors that I have read for my own personal enjoyment (e.g. David James Duncan, Annie Dillard. Elie Wiesel, Chaim Potok, Anne LaMott). This year, because I'm teaching a children's literature course and will be teaching a young adult literature course, I experienced a whole new Festival dimension. I attended sessions led by Jon Muth, Kadir Nelson, Carole Weatherford, Joan Bauer among others.

And, as I stood in the back of the rooms where these sessions were held, holding Jacob and trying to keep him relatively quiet, I realized that I have my kids to thank for this new experience. I made the decision to teach a children's literature course at MSU because it seemed the most logical thing to do. I was reading books to my kids. Why not teach a course about children's books?

I never thought I would enjoy either of them so much.

A poem I like...

Let Evening Come

Let the light of late afternoon
shine through the chinks in the barn, moving
up the bales as the sun moves down.

Let the cricket take up chafing
as a woman takes up her needles
and her yarn. Let evening come.

Let dew collect on the hoe abandoned
in the long grass. Let the stars appear
and the moon disclose her silver horn.

Let the fox go back to its sandy den.
Let the wind die down. Let the shed
go black inside. Let evening come.

To the bottle in the ditch, to the scoop
in the oats, to air in the lung
let evening come.

Let it come, as it will, and don't
be afraid. God does not leave us
comfortless, so let evening come.

Jane Kenyon

Sunday night game night

We've started a new tradition in our family - game night on Sunday nights. We've been doing it for about a month now so I feel that we can now describe it as a tradition :)

The idea behind it is that we play games together as a family. Each family member gets to choose one game (Go Fish, Ring around the Rosey, Candyland) and then we all play it together.

We play Peek-a-boo with Jacob.
David usually likes to play Duck-duck-goose.
Claire has enjoyed Go Fish (but hates to lose).

Their favorite game though is "Jump on Daddy".

Jon and I both came from families who always went to church on Sunday evenings. And, to be honest, it sometimes stills feel strange not to go to a PM service on Sundays.

But, I have to say, Sunday night game night is a lot of fun. We laugh a lot. We enjoy each others' company. I think God enjoys it as well.

Discipline of celebration

A friend of mine gave me Shauna Niequist's Cold Tangerines for my birthday. I've been indulging myself over the last few days and reading through it.

In the introduction, Niequist writes:

The discipline of celebration is changing my life, and it is because of the profound discoveries that this way of living affords to me that I invite you into the same practice. This collection is a tap dance on the fresh graves of apathy and cynicism, the creeping belief that this is all there is, and that God is no match for the wreckage of the world we live in. What God does in the tiny corners of our day-to-day lives is stunning and gorgeous and headline-making, but we have a bad habit of saving the headlines for the grotesque and scary.
...To choose to celebrate in the world we live in right now might seem irresponsible. It might see frivolous, like cotton candy and charm bracelets. But I believe it is a serious undertaking, and one that has the potential to return us to our best selves, to deliver us back to the men and women God created us to be, people who choose to see the best, believe the best, yearn for the best. Through that longing to be our best selves, we are changed and inspired and ennobled, able to see the handwriting of a holy God where another person just sees the same old tired streets and sidewalks.

Great words. Words that I continually need to be reminded of. It's so easy for me to fall into cynicism and pessimism, to be overwhelmed at the brokenness in the world.

Living out one of my fantasies

This morning Grandma watched the boys (Claire was at preschool) and I left to do some grocery shopping. I even managed to sneak in a trip to Target and bought a bathing suit.

When the kids are with me on my shopping mornings, I fantasize about them not being there. I think about the luxury it would be to just browse the aisles in peace and quiet. I think about how I used to read the magazines in the checkout lane, catching up on the latest tabloids.

This morning, I browsed the aisles. I compared prices with total concentration. I read the magazines in the checkout lane.

But, I also missed the kids.

Grandma's here

Yesterday we picked up Jon's mom (Grandma) from the GR airport. On the way there the kids saw an airplane in the sky and we all shouted out greetings to Grandma.

It was fun.

Cheese

I think I will forever associate "cheese smell" with Jacob.

It's not his fault.

It's that Jon and I aren't very good at cleaning under his double chin/neck.

Breakfast conversation

One thing I'm learning in my motherhood experience is that you just can't predict when kids will want to talk about things. Perhaps I should have know this from my own experience but it continues to surprise, and delight me.

At breakfast the other day, as I was shoveling granola in my mouth, reading the paper, making sure David only ate one vitamin,
Claire said (in between her bites of cereal),
"We ate tacos yesterday with Dad"
A few minutes later she told me that she watched "Nemo" at Jen's dorm (Jen's our babysitter).
Then, she told me that Lydia and Amelia are her friends at preschool.

I used to think that asking kids the "right" kind of questions would provide the glimpses into their thoughts and experiences. I'm beginning to realize that it's not so much the questions but more the time spent with them.

So incredibly blessed

There are moments when I wish that I didn't live so far away from Michigan State, that I didn't have to do the 1.5 hour drive each way once or twice a week, that I could go to more of the events and talks and get-togethers on campus. Living in Holland definitely makes my experience as a grad student at MSU more difficult.

But, Jon and I decided to stay in Holland when I started the PhD program because of the community we experienced here, because of the relationships with friends that were important to us.

Tonight I got to tangibly experience this community, this reason we decided to stay here. Kathy and Kristen threw me a surprise birthday party. And, for the first time in my life, I was completely surprised. There at the restaurant was my all star line up of my favorite female friends (give or take a few who were on spring break), a whole group of them representing a variety of ages, interests, and connections to me, there to enjoy drinks and dessert on this the first day of my new year of life.

I'll be thinking about all of them and about the community they are to me, to Jon, to our family, when I make the long drive to campus tomorrow.

"I just like them that way"

Claire loves to write her name on just about anything. This has been going on for quite a few months. Recently though, she's been wanting to write other words as well. So far, her word list consists of:

Claire
David
Jacob
Mommy
Daddy
Yes
No
Stop

Today she wrote "stop" on a sheet of paper. I looked at it and then said something about how she had written the "s" and the "p" backwards.

She looked up at me. "I just like them that way" she said.

Crying in God's presence

This morning as I walked into church carrying Jacob, he started crying. Actually, it was more than just crying. He started screaming.

I can learn from him.

How I sometimes long to cry so openly, to scream about the brokenness that I see around me, to weep over the realities of living in a sinful world.

But I don't. Adults are supposed to have it all together, especially in church.

If church is really a place for us to experience God, a God who is God of all our emotions, then maybe Jacob understands this much more than I do.

Maple syrup and cows...

The other day at breakfast, as we were eating our pancakes, I asked Claire if she knew where maple syrup came from.

She promptly replied, "From a cow" (can you tell we've been talking with her about where our food comes from?)

She then said "From a pig?"
Then it was, "From a chicken?"
And, then, "From the ground?"

Ah, we have much to work on with her...

"Is it a TV day today Mom?"

It's always funny to hear Claire picking up one of my sayings/phrasing of words, questions, comments.

Here are a few that I've overhead her say lately:

"David - what's your deal?"
"Jacob - what's your problem?"
"David, be quiet. I am getting a headache with all this noise."
"Is it a TV day today Mom?"
"David - these are your choices..."
"Mom, I can't get the book because I just sat down."
"I'll do it in a minute, I'm busy right now."

Is it too early to tell?

Jon and I think that David will be the class clown.

Honestly, the kid will do anything for a laugh. He will even laugh himself. And, once he starts laughing, it's pretty darn hard not to laugh right along with him.

On Thursday it was jungle day at Claire's preschool. On the way home from picking her up, Claire and I were talking about what she learned. With Claire, it's sometimes hard to get an answer or response on demand. Yesterday was one of those times. I asked her if she learned about cows. After much silence, she said "No". I asked if she learned about lions. She said, in her quiet voice, "Yes". Then I asked if she talked about pigs. Before I could respond, David started snorting like a pig over and over and over. That was funny. But what was even funnier was that in trying to snort like a pig, David uses his whole body and in his excitement, sometimes when he tries to snort, no noise comes out.

He made us all laugh. How I love that kid.

things I love

I love watching babies fall asleep, their eyes moving in strange ways before the lids close down.

I love the smell of their breath after they take their long afternoon naps.

I love the feel of their hands around my neck when I carry them up the stairs.

I love coming into their bedrooms late at night and tucking them in.

I love reading stories to them and having them snuggle next to me on the couch.

I love to kiss them on their foreheads.

I love to hear them play.

I love to hear them tell me stories.

Little House and the Fairy

I've been reading Little House on the Prairie books to Claire in the afternoon when the boys are napping.

We have a nice little routine going. We make our chai tea, we snuggle in on the living room couch with blankets and then start reading.

Claire's been calling me "Ma" and Jon "Pa". She is Laura, David is Mary and Jacob is baby Carrie.

She also seems to think that the book is called Little House and the Fairy.

To be honest, I'm not sure how much she's understanding. To be really honest, I'm not sure how much I understand either (making a smoke house in the back to smoke the venison? I'm still confused as to how Pa made it).

But, just when I start to think that what I've been reading is way over her head, she surprises me with something. Today it was that, out of the blue, she said to me, "Mom, Wilbur is some pig, and terrific. That's what Charlotte wrote about him."

David's favorite books

When David finds a book he enjoys, he wants to it read to him over and over and over. And then over again.

We've been through the book entitled Cow(Doyle/Rinaldi). David knew every single page and had hand motions or noises to go with each one.

Now, it's Caps for Sale (Slobodkina), or "the monkey book" as David likes to call it. He acts out the monkeys. So very naturally.

He's also a big fan of the No David! series (Shannon). I worry that he's been getting ideas from these books, particularly the one about running naked down the street. He has yet to run outside naked but he loves to run around the house. Talking all his clothes off while playing in the attic and then doing somersaults, much to the amusement of Claire's three friends who were over at the time, was pure bliss for him.

It's a slow day...

Never underestimate the power of a Raffi song.

I had to pick up my antibiotics yesterday morning at the local pharmacy and so desperately wanted the whole experience to go quickly.

In the parking lot, I repeated asked the kids to "hurry" and "walk faster".

At one point Claire replied, "I can't Mom. It's a slow day today."

She said it just like how Raffi sings it.

Of fairy tales and gender stereotypes

On the weekends I go for morning runs with a few other women who live in my neighborhood. I've been doing this for about a year now and have come to really look forward not only to the chance to get some exercise but also to talk with these women, all of whom are very smart and thoughtful.

This morning we talked about reading fairy tales to our kids. Should we? Which versions? I've been reading a book on children's literature by a Regent prof and she strongly advocates for fairy tales (in their original versions) so that children can learn about right and wrong, good and evil, so that they can develop their moral framework for the world.

I think she's right. The "Disney-fication" of fairy tales with their watered down plot lines and characters is abominable.

But, even the original versions of these fairy tales are culturally based. Some are just so graphic (is that right for my kids to read a story about suffocating an old mother? about baking little kids?) and some have definite gender and ethnic stereotyping if not prejudice (e.g. villains are often the "dark skinned" ones)

Ah. What to do? Ignorance is indeed bliss.

Oh dear...

And here we thought we were being so original with Jacob's name. I just discovered that "Jake Justice" is the name of a Rescue Hero (you can buy these action figures at any toy store). Here's the write up on the Rescue Heroes website:

"It’s the Camouflage Crew™ to the rescue! Whenever and wherever there’s danger or trouble, the Rescue Heroes® Camouflage Crew™ blasts out of the background, ready for rescue action! Jake Justice™ and his canine companion Buster are ready to leap out of the shadows and into action at the first sign of danger! When they spring onto the scene, make sure you push the button to set off Buster’s siren and alert everyone around! If there’s trouble in sight and you don’t know what to do, just look around for the Camouflage Crew!"

Oh dear. At least we know what to get him for Christmas one year.

What music are you listening to lately?

Someone recently asked me this question. And, since Jon's been encouraging me to get out of my "college rut" and start listening to new musicians/bands other than my tried and true collection of "whiny female singers" (Sarah, Norah, Patty, Over the Rhine, Natalie, Gillian etc), I had an answer ready.

I said that I've been listening to The Great Lake Swimmers, Neko Case, and The New Pornographers.

But then, as I was in bed today (mastitis once again) and I heard Jacob gurgle and coo as he lay next to me and I heard Jon and the kids playing and laughing outside of my bedroom window, I realized that I've been listening to this music too.

"Mama...can you tell me a story?"

Claire loves, absolutely loves to hear me tell stories about when she was younger.

Here's the list of the most frequently told requested stories:

These are the dramatic ones:
1. When she had a fever and got red spots everywhere (Nana and Papa were visiting, we had just moved into our house, 2004)
2. When she drank the bottle of cough medicine and I had to take her to the ER (2006).
3. When she put a bottle of household cleaner in her mouth and we had to call Poison Control (2004).
4. When she slammed the dining room door on David's finger and we had to take him to the ER (2006).
5. When she fainted when David was getting blood drawn and I didn't know which kid to help...Claire out on the floor, David screaming in my lap and Jacob crying in his carseat (Feb 2008)
6. When she had two ear infections on Christmas Eve (2004).

As you might notice, all these stories involve doctors, hospitals and health. I wonder if she already is showing an interest in the medical field...

These are the less dramatic but nonetheless entertaining ones:
1. When she and I flew on an airplane to be there for when Jabin was born...but he was born 2 weeks late and we missed his birth because we had to fly back.
2. When we visited Nana and Papa and she was awake the entire 8 hour drive there.
3. When we visited Grandma in California (trip 1 before David was born; trip 2 last year)
4. When she cut her hair at Nana and Papa's while Jon and I were on a canoe trip.
5. When she went through her "Dora underwear stage" and took her 12 pairs of Dora underwear with her wherever she went.
6. When her taggie blanket caught fire because I left it on the stove and then started making tea.
7. When her taggie blanket the second caught on fire because I left it on the stove AGAIN.

Of incorrect pronouns and such

Claire-isms:

"David cough-es and sneezes"
"Daddy's at him's office"

There's different ways of looking at her way of speaking.

There's the view that she's speaking incorrectly. Lots of adults hold this view, not only about the ways children speak but also about the ways other, nonmainstream, adults speak.

There's also the view that it's amazing how Claire uses verb tenses and pronouns without ever having been formally taught about them.

I'm going to go with the latter and marvel at how children have an incredible ability to acquire language.

Pretend...or maybe not

"Mom, pretend you don't know Jesus"

This has been Claire's latest "pretend activity" (she's been asking me to pretend that I don't know certain things so she can teach me them)

She asks me the question and then leaves the room and comes back in with a tiny scribbled on piece of paper and says, "Do you know about Jesus?" To which I respond, on command, "No I don't. Tell me about Jesus".

Claire then opens her piece of paper and "reads" her story about Jesus "getting died" and "then getting alive."

Her evangelistic mission ends with an enthusiastic rendition of "Alive, alive, alive forever more"

I could learn from this enthusiasm.

Where does she come up with this stuff?

I asked Claire to go downstairs and get her dress from the laundry basket in the living room.

"I can't Mom. I'm a poor woman and I can't get down from my bed."

Where does she come up with this stuff?

"Age appropriate books" - what does this mean anyway?

There are times in my life when my two worlds (that of being a mom at home and that of being a PhD student at MSU) collide and crash.

There are other times when they beautifully complement each other.

Teaching a children's literature class to MSU sophomores/juniors has allowed the complementing to happen much more often. I'm so very grateful for that.

Last night, I talked with my students about the term "age appropriate" and how absolutely complicated it is. I've been thinking about this topic lately because I've started reading chapter books to Claire. We just finished Charlotte's Web and are now reading Little House in the Big Woods. Both of these books are not "recommended" for 4 year old children.

In my class, I share with my students a Washington Post article that reported about how some parents in a 3rd grade classroom complained when the teacher read aloud to her students from a book containing graphic descriptions of violence against enslaved Africans. The article went on to compare different age recommendations for the book: ALA says its for grades 5-10; Publisher's Weekly says it's for ages 8 and up. Kirkus Review recommends ages 10-12.

In short, this topic is complicated. And yet, like so many other things in life, it seems that many people (educators included) merely accept these recommendations without critical thought. In doing so, they don't expose assumptions about childhood, child development, and literature.

It's official - the boy has a sweet tooth

David, Jacob and I went grocery shopping this morning. For some reason, I can handle going to Meier with two kids (take your pick - the combination doesn't matter) but not three.

We passed the bakery aisle and David marched over to the shelf and pulled off a rather large box of jumbo sized chocolate muffins.

He then proceeded to carry it with him throughout the entire store, stopping at times to put it down to check out other things but always remembering to pick it up. When we got to the checkout lane, he carefully placed it up on the checkout lane and stood there waiting for it to be put in the bag.

Just because the whole thing was so darn funny, and he was so cute carrying a box that was almost half his size, I almost bought them for him.

How could I forget?

A lot of people have been telling us that Jacob looks like Claire did when she was a baby.

I hadn't been agreeing.

But then today Claire and I looked at some of her 3 month old baby pictures (gosh - Jon and I look so young!).

She and Jacob do in fact look very similar. The mop of receding brown hair. The cute little chin. The big blue eyes.

How could I have forgotten what Claire looked like back then? How is it possible to "forget" the face that I gazed into, the face that I held at my breast for over a year, the face that I, as a first time mom, loved to watch and study and love?

My dirty secret

OK. I'm not proud of it but I'll admit it.

I bribe.

I tried the "intrinsic motivation" approach, an approach I wholeheartedly support in theory but after Claire got toilet trained because of the promise of Dora underwear, I decided to accept my fate and switch camps (at least in parenting).

I've been bribing ever since.

This time around it's Fruit Loops. The only way David will sit on the toilet is if Claire or I fill a small cup of Fruit Loops for him to munch on while he sits...and does nothing. I'm trying to convince myself that at least getting him to sit on the toilet is progress enough for now.

But then, after he enjoyed his 6 Fruit Loops and did nothing on the toilet, he got off and ran around his bedroom. Naked. And then proceeded to pee on the carpet.

A little man of little words

David has mastered the style of short and succinct sentences. In fact, he specializes in the two word sentence . Or is it the one word two sentence sequence?

Here are some of his favorites:

When tattletaling on his sister: "Claire naughty."
When trying to postpone bedtime: "Momma water." "Daddy book."
When getting mad that I'm feeding Jacob: "Baby down."
When asking for food: "Candy now."; "Cookie please?" "Pepmit Pepmit."
When showing love to Jacob: "Yacob hug."; "Yacob kiss."

again and again and again

While the boys were napping, Claire and I played "mailman". Here's how it works: I sit at the table and do my school work on my laptop. Claire sits at her desk in the office. We exchange letters under the office door. Usually my letters include some sort of surprise (a peppermint, a few chocolate chips, a craft), probably the reason that Claire likes this activity so much :)

Today, I made her a "fortune teller", something that I made when I was little (Childcraft craft idea). I remember making lots and lots of these back in the day. Claire loved learning how to do the fortune teller...we did it again and again and again.

The beauty of repetition.

Uncle Joey and Aunt Carol

Uncle Joel and Aunt Carolyn just left after visiting us for the weekend. The kids loved playing with them, waking them up in the morning, "stealing hugs" from them (the game Carolyn made up) and showing them all their tricks, toys and talents.

How we all love them so.

Right now I'm really wishing that we lived closer to them, to any of our family members...

Lenten reflections

As I reflect back on this month, I'm realizing that it was a strangely appropriate Lenten experience. It was one of waiting and worrying and wanting desperately to hope (but not being very good at it).

At David's 2 year old doctor's visit, he was labeled as "failure to thrive" based on his height and weight growth. In these last 4 weeks, we've had his blood taken, his stool analyzed and just yesterday, even his sweat tested (for cystic fibrosis).

All of it was awful...the tests themselves (for David, for us), the waiting for the test results and the worrying about the "what ifs".

All the tests thus far have come back "normal". Praise God. I cling to Easter hope and promise.

Tea time thoughts

Claire and I were talking as we were waiting for the water to boil for our tea.
"What do you want to be when you grow up?" I asked. "A teacher? A doctor? A nurse?"
She thought for a moment.
"I want to be a mom" she said.

Out of the mouths of babes

I was getting breakfast ready for the kids and rushing around.
"Mom - why are you not smiling?" Claire asked.
A good question.

More than I realize

"Mom I'm going in here to do my school work. Can you babysit Hennie? She needs to take a nap. She's not allowed to watch TV. You can call me if she cries. Good-bye."

Hennie is one of Claire's four favorite dolls. Claire loves her very much.

Apparently, Claire also listens quite intently to when I talk to the babysitter.

I missed my chance

"Mom - let's read Charlotte's Web. Please? I want to read Charlotte's Web"
"Claire - I'm tired. Let's read it after I take a little nap."
I took the nap.
Claire went to the playroom and started doing her crafts.
I woke up.
Claire didn't want to read Charlotte's Web anymore.
I missed my chance.

"If anyone were to ask me what I consider to be the most important feature of parenting, I would say, without hesitation and without wishing to beg the question, simply, enjoyment - enjoy your children. Delight in them, rejoice with them, have good times together, treasure the days of your life that are spent in their company. Days that - although it may not seem so to harried and often worried young parents - are limited...A mother's children are lent to her for a brief time. Children are not a permanent possession" Inside Picture Books - Ellen Handler Spitz

I'm not sure why I needed to read those words. But I did. It's not that I didn't enjoy my kids before I read this, but I think I just didn't keep those thoughts up close to the surface where they belong.
This blog is going to be my record of the delightful, enjoyable moments that I have with my kids.