Only Look at ME, Mommy

Sometimes, I'm a little slow. A little dense. A little thick in the head.

(But only sometimes. The rest of the time, I'm positively catatonic.)

Recently I spent weeks alternating between wringing my hands over my middle child's behavior and wanting drop-kick her to the moon at certain moments -- figuratively speaking, of course. It seemed like her chief form of recreation was to go out of her way to irritate her little sister, who consistently rewarded her with some juicy shrieks and angry tears.

I know you don't believe me. No one believes me. People who don't live at our ranch are totally convinced that this child is sweet and mild-mannered ALL THE TIME.

MU HA HA HA HA!

Anyway, we had conversation after conversation along these lines: "Eliza, what do you get out of provoking your sister?" "Ummmmm ... it's fun." "Well, please find some way to have fun that doesn't beat our family sanity to a pulp." But we weren't really getting anywhere. And the wee one, she don't take nuthin' lyin' down.

A couple weeks ago we went down to the Austin Parks and Recreation Department to see our friend Bethany receive a Life-Saving Award from the City for saving Caroline's life. Of course, the very nice folks there also made much over our little miracle child and her big brother, The Hero.

A suspicion began nagging at me. You know the whole Middle Child Syndrome thing? I started to wonder how it might feel to be sandwiched between the Miracle Child and the Hero. And what if the Miracle Child also spent hours every day creating artistic masterpieces and reaping appropriate amounts of attention for it? And what if the Hero also had a dominant personality? Hmmmm.

I shared my thoughts with a group of friends and they suggested I do a little investigation. So, that very evening, my girl and I went for a walk. And we talked, about whatever she wanted to discuss. And somewhere on the next street over, I asked her the whole drowning crisis had been for her. The conversation lasted about two minutes and featured the words, "Well, from my perspective ..." coming out of her mouth. And I kept a straight face when that happened. And then reminded her how special and important she was to us. And that was that.

It's funny how, when kids challenge our patience, sometimes the thing they need most (time alone with us) is what we least feel like offering. But y'all, I am here to bear witness. For the entire week after that little walkie-talkie, my child sprouted angelic wings. Fairy dust practically sprinkled her path. Harmony reigned in our home, as if a tropical weather front had blown in. Maybe it was the conversation. Maybe it was the one-on-one time. Whatever it is, I'm ready to make this a tradition.

Long live the Sunday evening walk!

Stars in His Eyes

           (Shhhh ... Quiet on the Set!)

If you send your child to a free (remember how we love that word) two-day workshop at the Apple Store, and he learns to use iMovie, you may unleash a monster.

He may spend hours on the computer writing a script entitled "Attack of the Nerf Marauders," prominently featuring various Nerf weapons.

You may remember that by jingo, your very own next door neighbor is not only a tenured professor of screenwriting at UT, but also a person who has had several scripts snapped up by the hungry Hollywood beast. (Same neighbor also went to Harvard with, and wrote for the school newspaper with, Peter Sagal from WaitWait Don't Tell Me! How cool is that?!)

That neighbor may agree to look over your son's script to give him some pointers. He may also send your son the screenplays of various movies such as Shrek Three and Ratatouille, so your son can see how the big boys do things.

You may start to wonder whether it would be appropriate to bake your neighbor a Gratitude cake.

Your child may begin rounding up his buddies and neighbors, even pestering the more reluctant ones out of their ever-lovin' minds until they agree to join the cast.

You may get into a long, thought-provoking discussion with your son's friend about violence in movies.

You may start to plot how to eliminate some of the less comely parts of your home from the cinematography of your child's film. You may fail.

Your child may make big plans to post his video on YouTube and tell everyone from his great grandparents to the grocery store cashier how to find it.

Then he may announce that he "used to want to be a scientist, but it's turning out that I'm more of a filmmaker."

You may respond by filling his head with dreams of IMAX movie-making. You could even let him listen to James Cameron's TED talk about how his early fascination with science fed his later film-making genius -- even though you don't let your child watch Mr. Cameron's films.

You may conclude that as you strew opportunities along your children's path, you can never quite predict where the spark of passion will light.

And that knowledge may comfort you as you find the eighty-fourth nerf dart of the day lying on your path.

Maybe.

A Mother's Day Off

This week my very thoughtful in-laws offered to keep the children for a night and a day to give me some personal time.

"Personal time?" you say. "What is this thing you call Personal Time?"

I know. I know.

My father-in-law even traded cars with us, deigning to drive my minivan full of kids and leaving us with his two-seater for the night. We went out for dinner (thanks Groupon!) and a joyride along some of Austin's more serpentine roads. Whee!

The next day, I spent some time working on my to-do list, including such thrills as getting the van's way-overdue inspection done and dropping off stuff at Goodwill while my little hoarder(s) couldn't say, "Wait! But we NEED that!" Also, some attempts at planning for the semester.

Then I picked up my friend Margo from her office for a late lunch and we had an hour of uninterrupted adult conversation in the middle of the day. I know. I know.

Then -- are you ready for this? -- I actually went to Barton Springs, by myself, and read A Tale of Two Cities on my blanket in between refreshing dips. I think I actually dozed off for a few minutes, too. It's hard to communicate just how decadent this all felt. But I think you understand.

Meanwhile, my mother-in-law was holding the fort at her house, including a tea party once the cousins got home from school. And when we went to collect the kids that evening, she had nothing but good things to say about the time. Not a single comment that might compromise the joy of my mini-retreat. Bless her.

I'm not sharing this to make anyone jealous, because believe me, I know how alluring a solid block of Personal Time sounds. But upon reflection, a few things occurred to me.

1. Every mother needs some silent time. Time to reflect, to pray, to accomplish things if she chooses, to quiet her thoughts, to slow down, to have some fun outside the beaten path of her routine, to remember that she is a person apart from her kids.

2. This is not easy to come by. Sometimes we have to ask for it. Is there someone in your life you could ask, assuming hours of professional babysitting isn't in your budget? Could you arrange with your husband for a weekend off? Could you trade a day off with a friend? We all tend to moan about the lack of margin in our lives. Doing something about it often requires some creative thinking.

3. When I grow up, I want to do this for younger moms. For my kids and their spouses, if they live nearby. For moms of young children who love them to pieces but crave some respite now and then. Feel free to remind me of this resolution in twenty or thirty years, okay?

4. Meanwhile, we can look for little ways to lighten the load for each other. What can you do to grace another parent's life this week?

The Answer to the Current Salmonella Outbreak in Eggs

Everyone needs a few of these. 

Number One, aren't they gorgeous?

Number Two, they start off as adorable chicks that fit in the palms of your (or your kids') hands.

Number Three, they make you breakfast, and what other kind of pet can make such a claim?


FYI, my blogger friend Stefani Austin from Blue Yonder wrote an article in the latest issue of Urban Farm magazine that quotes yours truly on the joys of raising chickens with your family. Wow wow wow. I'm so famous. Look for it at your local bookstore.

Summer in Review

Today marked the end of summer for most of our fair city, as all the schoolchildren headed back to the classroom, despite the fact that summer is definitely hanging on here. It's still weird for me, after all these years, that school reconvenes while it still feels like summer. Growing up in New England, I associate the advent of school with a September nip in the air and new, long-sleeved clothes. What do you buy for back-to-school clothes around here? New tank tops, just because?

Anyway, even though today was no different for us -- in fact, my kids all slept in until 8:30 a.m. -- it seems like a fitting occasion to review the highlights of the summer. Sandwiched between times of trauma and of travel, most of these moments never made it onto this blog, but they wove the fabric of a season in our family.

Summertime was ...

Picnic dinners at Zilker Hillside Theater, to see evening performances of A Midsummer Night's Dream and Annie:

Playing in the creek with friends:

Making mudpies in the yard:

A (mostly free) trip to Six Flags:

Swimming at Barton Springs, an Austin landmark:

A Saturday night at the ballpark:

Running the go-cart around the driveway: 

Succumbing to insanity by joining the crowds at the Lego store's Grand Opening:

Playing excessive amounts of Toontown with the neighbors (at least they collaborated!):

Sending the boy and his buddy off to sweat it out at McKinney Roughs Day Camp:

And visits from beloved friends from far away:

It wasn't my favorite summer ... not a ride I'd like to take again. Mostly, it didn't begin so well. But scrolling through the photos tells a better story.

"Bliss was it in that dawn to be alive, 

But to be young was very heaven!" 

                -- William Wordsworth

Marble Painting

Here's an all-ages art project for the dog days of summer (don't even get me started about how much more of summer we have to endure here in the netherworld of Texas). It was field-tested in my house by five children who ranged in age from ten to four, and was a hit all around.

Look! I'm so nice, so generous and giving, that I'm even providing you with a pretty shoddy picture of the artists in action. Bonus: broken screen door in background.

Gather your supplies: paint*, marbles (buy a cheap bag at the craft store), a pad of oversized watercolor paper (use that 40% off coupon; those babies are expensive!), and some sort of tray. If you use, say, 11x14 paper, a cookie sheet with edges might do the trick. We used bigger paper so I directed the Professor to create some huge cardboard trays out of a big box we had lying around. "Your wish is my command, O Queen," he said cheerfully. Or something like that.

Dip your marbles in paint. Plop them on the paper one by one and start rolling and tilting your tray. Or, you can use several marbles all at once and really stir up some craziness!

Ta-Da! Wall Art of which Jackson Pollock would be proud.

By the way, in case you haven't already discovered it, The Crafty Crow is a fantastic place to grab last-minute craft ideas. I use it regularly for my own kids and my Sunday School class; in fact, the marble painting idea was doubtless nabbed there. Hooray for artsy people sharing their nifty ideas!

(* edited: TEMPERA paint)

And now, on the homeschooling front ...

First, the good news.

The girls and I are having a ball this week reading Nim's Island by Wendy Orr. I know it's a movie, and I haven't seen it yet, but y'all, the book is so much fun. Nim is a girl living on an island alone with her scientist dad, and she's adventurous, responsible and self-reliant enough that her dad goes off on an expedition and leaves her for three days. At least, the plan is three days. But then his trip goes awry and Nim begins corresponding via email with a reclusive famous author, all while missing her dad and having adventures with her anthropomorphic animal friends, and that's as far as we've gotten, but Eliza keeps asking me to keep reading, which is a good sign.

We've also started dipping back into Five in a Row, which has been the source of some amazing picture book finds for us. It's a fountain of ideas for discussion and activity based on great books, some of which are already well-known and award-winning, and others of which deserve to be so. This is a curriculum I'm always recommending to moms of preschoolers and kindergarteners who want to do something a little bit structured with their kiddos without going off the deep end. This week we're having some fun with Warm As Wool.

And I am reading A Tale of Two Cities and liking it much more than I expected. Mr. Dickens, you're quite a wit. 

Now, the bad news.

Y'all, I am suffering from the worst case of planning paralysis I've ever experienced. Normally around this time of year, I'm so done with the "lazy days of summer" to which we are somewhat subject because of the public-schooled neighbors who like to come hang out. Visions of newly sharpened pencils and brand new books and schedules that will probably come unraveled dance in my head. I'm making a long list from the Rainbow Resource catalog and forcing myself to edit because there are so many great options.

But with seemingly everyone gearing up around me and even homeschooling websites publishing delightful ideas for the "first day of school," I just cannot seem to kick myself into gear. I feel like I'm stuck in this pessimistic funk, this crisis of motivation and decisiveness, despite the plethora of advice and ideas at my fingertips.

There's more I could say but it's hard to go into detail without violating my kids' privacy, one in particular. But if you feel inclined to pray for me, please do! Or send a Mental Battery Charger via FedEx with encoded instructions for exactly what we should do in the next few months that will rock our world.

Thanks for listening. Over and out.