Baby is going crazy with Post-It Notes

'Nuf said.

So Eliza asks me a few minutes ago, fingers poised over the keyboard in the Google search box, "Mom, how do you spell 'Baghdad?'"
Amusing, a bit eyebrow-raising, but not entirely shocking. After all, this child is the best-informed five year old I know on the subject of Islam. (Mind you, I don't know any wee Muslims.) It's because she listens to Story of the World all the time, especially that section. Seriously, she can tell you exactly what the Hijira is. Next thing I know, she'll be asking for a burqa for her dress-up box!

Another tidbit is that my friend Melanie, stamp designer extraordinaire, is having a challenge contest right now, and I for the first time am entering! Why do I have the boldness? Because she's not judging the quality of the cards; she's merely drawing an entry at random to win one of her fabulous stamp sets. I've NEVER won anything before, but there's always hope! :-) Here's my card.

Showers of blessing

Too, too comical this afternoon. I'd almost written a post this morning that just said, "Send rain. NOW." Honestly, we're withering away here in a city (that I love) that manages to be hot, humid, AND dry at the same time. Go figure.

So we made plans to meet my friend Greta and her five kiddos for swimming this afternoon. I truly love this family, and Ian always has a blast with their zany kids (11, 9, 6, and 1 y.o. [undiagnosed!] twins]. The girls enjoy watching, occasionally participating, and lugging their babies around.

It started sprinkling here -- oh blessings! -- ten minutes before we were to leave, but I called her and we decided to meet anyway, since she was already halfway there. We arrived, and the pool was closed for a 30-minute break due to thunder. No problem, the kids go crazy on the playground.

No more thunder; lifeguard blows whistle, pool is open for business. We move eight kids from playground to pool, and the older four jump in. They play for precisely two minutes. Thunder. Lifeguard blows whistle again. Another thirty-minute break. Back to the playground for a raucous round of sliding pebbles and bodies down what is probably the tallest playground slide in Austin. It's metal. And wet. Therefore irresistibly shiny and SLIPPERY! Injuries during this activity: three.

No more thunder; lifeguard blows whistle; pool is open for business. Another mass migration. We get three minutes this time, just enough for me to schlep to the car for towels and goggles. Thunder. Lifeguard blows whistle AGAIN. Another thirty-minute break. Kids, totally unfazed, haul themselves out and head on over to the swings to see how they can further stretch the boundaries of Proper Playground Equipment Usage. Complaints: zero.

As I'm writing this, it occurs to me how differently the afternoon would have gone had it just been my own small clan there. The constant disruption of the pool, the insistent sprinkling from on high, would have been painfully felt and loudly noted. And the kids might have been worse. ;-)

But because we were among friends, both the kids and I could just enjoy the time for what it was -- time to be moms and kids together. There didn't have to be a POINT. Nothing needed to be accomplished. No "we came, we saw, we conquered." To borrow from a proverb often bestowed at weddings, in good company the joys are doubled and the sorrows (or in this case, minor annoyances), cut in half.

GOOD morning

You know what's an entirely pleasant way to begin your day?

Eating breakfast (a three-berry smoothie, to be exact) on the patio while the mourning doves earnestly coo and the children around you cavort and blow bubbles. And pop them, which is just SO funny.

It's quite lovely, really. Even if it only lasts about as long as a bubble. I recommend it.

Glorious Fourth

Hurrah for the Fourth of July!

I love this holiday, especially with kids. I love the music, the color scheme, the swells of patriotism in the heart and lungs. The parades (WHY must every parade involve the tossing of insane amounts of candy?)! The barbecues!

Here's how we celebrated:
Our Allandale neighborhood parade, at 9:00 a.m., starring my husband and two older children on decorated bikes with patriotic mohawks:


Caroline and her friend Benjamin watching:


Then some fooling around in the yard with Shanta, our neighbor:


Some brewing of Robber Soup (my kids love to mix up these nasty brews using weird spices and any liquids they can find; the theory is that any ill-intentioned prowlers in our yard would spy the soup, slurp some up, and immediately fall over dead.)


Some playing in the other neighbor's pool:


A barbecue and HOURS of pool play at the home of the Meades', recent transplants from California whose home we have haunted as much as humanly possible in the past week, LOL.


A different kind of soup, this time of the kid variety:


The creative-jump contest:


The singing of God Bless America before tying into the Fourth of July cupcakes (sub-theme of the day: all-American refined SUGAR):


(I'd let you see the video of that moment, but since I was holding the camera, my own voice ended up being slightly too prominent for public consumption!)

The bedtime story, a book we read once a year:



Oh, and another tradition I can't post a picture of: Every year, as we drive around on the Fourth to our activities, we play a collection of downloaded patriotic music in the car. Our kids love this, especially (surprisingly) Ian! And this was the first year that I didn't get all choked up while belting out Lee Greenwood's "God Bless the U.S.A." But it was close! (What? Stop looking at me like that!) I've been reading a book about gospel missions in Asia, and so this year the fact that we can live in relative peace and comfort here (I know, it's not perfect by a long shot, but relative to many places in the world, we have it REALLY good!), and that we can worship and share our faith without being tortured or thrown into prison (and others of different faiths can do the same) is particularly poignant to me. Even that we have this much-debated election, as tiring as the back-and-forth can be -- look at Zimbabwe! They had an "election," but it was a total sham, the defeated incumbent still refuses to step aside, and his cronies are beating and killing anyone suspected of voting for the opposition. I mean, really.

Cheesy as it may sound, I AM proud -- no, humbled -- to be an American.

Four Mysteries

I really should be vacuuming and mopping my kitchen/dining room right now.

Funny, I think I feel a blog post coming on.

OK, I've got four mysteries for you. Let's all ponder in harmony.

#1. How is that a five-year-old girl can be happy and well-behaved at her Kindermusik class, cheerfully making penguins from cutouts of her handprint and even, against her shy nature, calling out a comment in front of everyone during the family-sharing time, and then have a complete, tearful, sibling-striking, parent-sassing, timeout-earning, meltdown while getting into the car?

#2. How can a seven-and-a-half-year-old boy claim to be staaaaarving as his mother marches him chirpily along a piece of the Barton Creek Greenbelt and then forces him to endure aforesaid Kindermusik family-sharing time, yes, how can he declare approximately thirty-two times that he's SO hungry, yet refuse to eat any of the giant cluster of grapes she brought along for a snack? Seriously, people, if anyone has any insight into this fruit-a-phobia we have endured for the last five years, please email me before I go completely crazy and stuff a watermelon down his throat (just kidding!) (mostly).

#3. How can the powers of Mommy Guilt be so insidious that a mom can spend one-on-one time with each of her three children, playing Legos, dancing with scarves around the living room, and reading The Wheels on the Bus many times over, respectively, but then feel like roadkill at the end of the day because a trip to JoAnn Fabrics with the Wild Things exceeded the limits of her sanity and brought out the Mommy Monster?

#4. How can a nominally-mature adult look at her flailing, whining two year old, formulate the words, "My goodness, you sure are cranky this morning!" in her mind (with cranky tone of voice to match!), and instead scoop her up in her arms and say, "Oh, little kitty cat [child's alter ego for the day], you're having a tough time right now, aren't you?" And then melt as the small arms go around her neck and the head droops onto her shoulder?

Oh, wait. Never mind that last one. I already know the answer. It's "not I, but the grace."

Lollipop, Lollipop ...

The child DOES actually have a bed ...


(Can you see what she's clutching?)

Somewhere in the World ...

... at any given moment, it's morning. And you know why I'm filled with fresh appreciation for that fact? Because even the most promising of days can fall flat, especially when you're all either wilting or hibernating from the soaring temps and humidity. We've all been feeling tiiiiired lately (I actually lay on the couch and took a 30-minute nap this afternoon!). In fact, at this very moment, despite my desire to blog about, for example, how much we're enjoying having our distant-cousins-by-marriage move to town from California and buy a house with a pool and be really hospitable and fun and just generally all-around cool, I am approaching brain-death. But Lamentation 3:22 reminds me: "Jehovah's lovingkindesses indeed never cease/For His compassions never fail. They are new every morning; Great is Thy Faithfulness." So sure, it's great to enjoy His mercies/compassions in the morning, but hey, when it's 3:00 in the afternoon here in Texas, it's morning in, say, New Zealand, right?

Let's see, 10:30 here ... sun's coming up in Greece, right? Thank You, Lord, for Your tender mercies! (And I'd say it in Greek if I could ...)