Sweet hearts

Who knew that you could teach so much with a pack of those cute conversation hearts?

In ten minutes this morning, we had math, like this.

Then reading. Whichever hearts you read (Mom helps A LOT if you're three), you get to eat. Verrrrry motivating, She Who Is Five.

Then nutrition. Er, not really.

All I have to say is, Necco, U R COOL.

Be Mine

Caroline, our resident mini Martha, is my holiday queen. Even though we've never actually hosted a Christmas party, boy is there ever a bee in her bonnet about throwing a Christmas party. The timing of this party changes constantly -- it might be "in ten days" or "in six months" or "last week." But it's the event that's going to make all her dreams come true -- candy, decorations (which she's gradually gathering), etc.

But now a new interest has joined the ranks. On Monday, she received three valentines from children in her co-op class. Immediately, she launched her own Hallmark line. Industriously, she works her magic with crayons, markers, glitter glue, starting before breakfast to make valentines for her siblings. In fact, tonight she was cranking them out an hour past tucking time, armed with gel pens and magic markers which somehow snuck into her bed. Here's one for Eliza, featuring the much-to-doed Loose Tooth:


Ian's getting over being sick, although yesterday he lay feverishly on the couch all day, trying to clear his throat and blink his red eyes. Since I'm paranoid about pneumonia after my dramatic bout, I called my dad for free medical advice last night (I like to alternate between him and my friend Greta, and last week she got the dog-bite-on-face-is-it-infected? call). He said, in essence, what he usually does, which is: "He'll be fine."

Which, of course, he will be.

Since he was in no shape to do anything else, I read aloud to him and let him watch STAR WARS and THE EMPIRE STRIKES BACK -- for the first time ever (we are a G-rated family, plus this is a child who had a major panic session at Winnie the Pooh when he was three or four). Which, of course, means his sisters got to watch parts of it too. Sigh. It's much harder to shelter the second and third children! ("Darth Vader is MEAN!" was the authoritative word during breakfast this morning.)

I was feeling rather sorry for myself this morning, so ran away from the children to go sit in my front yard and talk to the Lord, just letting Him listen without insisting on answers. The sunshine, the constant wind chimes, the breeze ruffling the branches of our pecan tree, the pitter patter of toddler feet behind me, the silent curling up of a small warm body on my lap, the knowledge that Someone understood. All good.

Sick Kid

While the girls spent the morning at their co-op, Ian and I whiled away an hour or two reading and writing at Starbucks. I guess you could call it our new tradition, if doing something two weeks in a row counts as a tradition (it does in Ian's book). Sitting there in a shaft of tentative sunlight, sipping mint tea as the boy slurps up his milk and lemon cake, one can quite easily fool oneself into thinking one has this homeschooling thing quite under control, thank you very much.

Now he's burning with fever, a different incarnation of what his ceaselessly vomiting sister had one night last week. Poor child, he's a wan shadow of his feisty nighttime self. I would take his temperature, but the Attic People stole our new thermometer. Clearly, they have no shame.

What a gas

Dudes, I ran out of GAS today. Literally. Haven't pulled that one since age 18, when a very nice fellow had to push me to the nearest filling station with his car in the dead of night from a deserted exit along Rte. 128. Thank God he was a nice fellow.

My daughter and I concluded our shopping trip with some extra quality time: walking the remaining half mile home (I had also forgotten my cell phone). Fortunately, I am such a delight to be married to that little inconveniences and idiocies like this matter nary a whit to my longsuffering husband. He actually loves to ride to the rescue! That's my story, and I'm sticking with it.

Speaking of the husband, he just wrote two terrific posts on Daddy Magic. Check it out and boost his ego, if you will, with a comment. He deserves it after riding around on his bike with a gallon of gas sloshing around in that can. Have I mentioned we own only one car?

We also celebrated Chinese New Year today by reading some great picture books (Lon Po Po, Daisy Comes Home; Happy New Year!) and making our own potstickers with my sister and her husband. Who, by the way, is Asian-born. And knows a genuine potsticker when he tastes one. He was very polite. And hungry.

And on a food-related note, my younger daughter and I hit the Sunset Valley Farmers' Market this weekend, which we haven't visited in a coon's age. One thing I love about that girl is that everything is exciting. Look at the hundreds of dogs I can pet! The organic produce and chocolate-dipped strawberries I can sample! Such zest for living, especially when life involves wearing princess costumes to church, taekwondo parties, farmer's markets. I need to take that yoke upon me and learn from her, for her joy is infectious and her introspection refreshingly rare.

Friday Fandango

I. Am. So. Tired.

We started Friday Co-op last week, and this week in earnest. So far it's shaping up to be a very successful semester. Eliza stipulated that I must participate in her classes in order for her to attend, so I am assisting (not teaching) this semester, in "Ancient Egypt" and "Fairy Wonderland." Fairy Wonderland is ... a little bit cheesy, just between you and me ... BUT, we dyed playsilks with Kool-Aid powder today, and you really can't get much cooler than that.

Ian is taking a Mad Science Experiments class and a Rube-Goldberg class, both taught by the same set of parents, and then after lunch, a class called "Battles and Biscuits." A few worthy attributes of this particular lineup:
1. His friend Truman is in every single class with him.
2. He gets to do fascinating science experiments that ACTUALLY WORK. (I am apparently under a SCIENCE EXPERIMENT CURSE, under which even the simplest of experiments go awry and fail to prove any valid scientific point.)
3. He's doing basic engineering in the Rube-Goldberg class, making contraptions that move things from Point A to B ... and you KNOW I wouldn't be teaching that at home!
4. Battles and Biscuits is pretty much exactly what is sounds like, studying medieval history by making food and weapons, and then enacting mock slaughter on the lawn.

Caroline is in the preschool class. Nothing to say there, but I WILL tell you that this afternoon the child tried to mop the chicken pen with my kitchen mop, dipping it in the water trough in between strokes. Apparently that dirt floor was just entirely too dirty.

O What a Busy Day!

Don't worry, I'm not going to walk you through my entire day.

My title is actually the title of a children's book that I think we can safely call "vintage." I had it as a child, and I think by then the binding was already done up in duct tape (but then, many pages in my house clung together by virtue of duct tape).

Imagine my surprise and delight when our friend Jessica showed up at our house with her latest thrift store find. She was kind enough to bestow it upon us as a gift when I exploded into cooing nostalgia.

The book is adorable, taking you through an impossibly busy day in the lives of a passel o 'kids -- and I say "impossibly" because they seem to live all four seasons between sunup and sundown.

There is, of course, the bizarre interruption of an illustrated version of the "Babes in the Woods," poem, which features children either being snatched or wandering of their own accord into the woods, subsisting on berries, and then simply lying down to die. What's up with that? I used to skip over that page as a child, and I find it equally horrifying as a parent. What editor thought this an appropriate inclusion? Seriously, Mr. Fujikawa! Poisoning innocent minds!

Then again, when this book was published, carseats were unheard of and children frolicked on metal playgrounds, blistering their bottoms as they slid down those reflective slides.

The times, they have a-changed. But it sure is nice to rediscover an old friend.

Parenting with Humor

From time to time, the same old parenting tips and tricks just don't work. Plus, you get tired of hearing yourself say, "Let's use our WORDS," and "I'm sorry, my ears just don't understanding WHINEse!" That's when I like to introduce some of my favorite characters. They're quite a cast. Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome ...

The Anthropologist. Useful for fighting children.
Example: Five year old and eight year old are embroiled in a conflict over possession of something trivial. Things are escalating.
Parent: Guys, this is so interesting! And helpful, because I'm doing some research for an article on How Siblings Fight. Let me write this down [unless I'm driving.] Let's see, you start with an object that both of you want, is that right?
Kids, startled: Yes.
Parent: Okay, great. Then is it particularly effective to add screaming? Maybe a few tears? Tell me, what works the best?
(This method works AMAZINGLY well, because of the shock factor. So don't use it very often. But be cheerful and detached when you do.)

The Village Idiot.
Example #1: Clothes left on floor after reminder.
Parent: Wow, isn't this amazing! I KNOW I asked for these clothes to be put away, but they've jumped right out of the hamper! Creepy!
Example #2: Child is whining about wanting something NOWWWWW.
Parent: Hey, I didn't know we had invited Nellie Olson/Veruca Sal* to the party today! (*Selfish brats from Little House on Plum Creek/Charlie and the Choc. Factory, respectively)

The Interpreter.
Example: Child has been given some treat but complains that it's not the right color, size, etc.
Parent: Oh, is that Japanese for "Thank you Mama so much for this delightful treat?"

The Surfer Dude.
Example: Child comes to complain that his/her brother/sister has committed some gross offense toward him/her. Child clearly hoping for big parental reaction toward offender.
Parent, not moving: Bummer!
End of conversation.

Aren't children delightful creatures?

Really, I mean it.

Before kids, I only had ONE identity. Life is so much richer now.