Great Book

So I just two hours ago, while rocking Caroline, finished reading the book I've had my nose buried in for the past few days, whenever it's been free to be buried. It's called First Mothers (see Amazon linky thing at right) and it's all about the mothers of the American presidents from FDR to Bill Clinton, and how they influenced their famous sons. Absolutely fascinating stuff! For example, every SINGLE one of these men had a closer relationship with their mothers (who were all Daddy's Girls) than with their fathers. Most of them, except for FDR, JFK, and Bush, came from simple, small-town families who had to scrape just to keep food on the table -- and because many of their fathers were less than successful in life, their mothers leaned on them early on to help support the family and to push beyond the limitations of their childhood by immersing themselves in literature, culture, and debates over the big ideas of the time. They all absolutely adored their mothers and later in life, when that success did come to them, they all made an effort to give their mothers the privileges that had been denied them during their days of toil. There are other interesting patterns too -- the strong faith and piety of every single one of them except Virginia Clinton (and that story is an enlightening one in itself), and the tendency, in families with only two boys, for the one son to become President while the other turns out to be, well, a loser.
It's inspiring, really, and thought-provoking, and surprising in many ways. And available at the public library, where thanks to Library Elf, I'm once again a member in good standing. :-) But this book one of those I might just have to buy for my own library -- it's that much fun!

Solomon's request

Scene: I'm reading our morning Bible story at the breakfast table with the kiddos. Our topic at hand is Solomon's rise to the throne, during which he has a vision of God offering him anything he asks for. I stop to ask the kids what THEY would ask for if God came to them in such a way.

Eliza (immediately): Candy!
Ian: [Long rambling explanation of invention that would boost his strategy in "Stronghold.] And the ability to do anything I wanted. And, that Bionicles could come to life.
Caroline: Candy!

Me (silently to self): I'm with Solomon. Wisdom, Lord, wisdom - please!

For you, Dad

Yesterday, April 6, was my dad's 59th birthday. Another reminder of the near-miraculous grace of God, because this month also marks the 6th anniversary of his devastating diagnosis of Lou Gehrig's Disease (ALS). We quickly learned that 75% of all ALS patients die within 5 years (and we've learned a lot more since then, none of it particularly pleasant) -- but here he is, another year has gone by, and he's still able to talk easily with us and, even though singing, his favorite, is now very difficult, he did an admirable job of the "Watermelon Song" when I called him up a couple weeks ago and asked him to help me with the lines. I think he has a good shot at the big 6-0 ... but no year, or day for that matter, is taken for granted.

So Dad, if you figured out how to get my blog URL back into your bookmarks and are reading again, here's a story you'll appreciate. Remember when we visited in March and Eliza and Caroline were chanting that "Moses Supposes His Toeses are Roses" song from Singin' in the Rain? You thought it was so funny to hear Caroline, at 2, ennunciating so carefully the word "erroneously." Well this morning, she and Tim and I were out on the back patio and we pointed out to her the bud that's about to open on our rosebush. "It's about to turn into a rose," we told her. She immediately got that faraway look that tells you the gears are grinding and synapses are firing. "Roses? ... supposes his toeses are roses? Err-on-e-ous-ly?"

We cracked up, and here's the Gene Kelly original for you and everyone else:

Stop the Press!

Breaking News! Scrumdiddlyumptious snack just discovered by non-gluten-eating daughter and self!
Take a slice of apple, smear it with almond butter, and sprinkle with chocolate chips. Ay ay ay!
(Going back for a teeny bit more ...)

Feminine Mystique

Great! Just when I think I've lulled our neighbors into thinking we're semi-normal people, I pick tonight to decide that I can't wait another evening to exfoliate my pores with facial masque, and within minutes the doorbell rings, my husband is too involved in a computer game with my son to answer, and when the bell rings AGAIN, I have to slink the door with a glowing white face. Obviously, we have a reputation to keep up! (Scroll down)

But now the main topic at hand, in which I muse upon the mind of a certain four year old. The thing is, at this age, they seem to vacillate between amusing (or infuriating) inscrutability and delightful transparency. Example of the former: I drove today to pick up Ian from a playdate, and brought Eliza along for the ride (we logged lots of quality time today; she had a cold so I kept her home from our church meeting and we lounged on the bed and read the most charming Happy Little Family from cover to cover, plus walked in the sunshine and let her talk to me in her slow, deliberate way without getting drowned out by her louder, faster-talking siblings). As we neared his friend's house, I commented on the narrowness of the road. "What's 'narrow' mean, Mama?" she asked. "It means, 'thin,' honey. Not wide." "Oh. Like I am thin." (Oh good, she still thinks so; I dread the day when she believes otherwise!) Pause. "ESPECIALLY ... my little toe." You know? Those logical leaps -- they're dazzling!

Example of the latter: Eliza is very into determining whether things are "true" or not. If we read a story, she always asks me, "Is that TRUE?" I think what she means is, "is that a work of fiction or nonfiction? Fact or fantasy?" so I try to answer her at that level, but of course there's a part of me, the English major part I suppose, that always wants to point out that the question is much more complex. The story of Charlotte's Web, for example, can't really be TRUE, since as far as we know animals don't talk to each other and spiders can't spin words into their webs. But though the premise may be somewhat fantastical, the story, as all good works of fiction (and art/music/etc.) do, illuminates some universal truths about the human experience (the nature of love, loyalty, friendship, sacrifice, community) that are just a different breed of "true" than the simple fact that water freezes when its temperature hits zero Celsius ("true," in the mind of a four year old.) At this point, I'm holding my tongue, though. For everything there is a season. But anyway, a couple days ago we were listening to the "A, You're Adorable" song as we pulled into a parking lot and I anointed the kids' ears ;-) by caroling along at unapologetic volume. As I helped Eliza from her carseat I sang to her, "U, you make my life complete, V means you're Very sweet ..." She lit up and asked me eagerly, "Mom, is that song TRUE?"

I was happy to assure her, with no ambivalence whatsoever, that the song was indeed, in all senses of the word, true.

Co-ops and socialization

I'm having a dilemma about the two co-ops in which we participate (homeschool co-ops, that is). There's Monday Co-op (hereafter MC) and Friday Co-op (FC). We've been members of MC ever since we moved to Austin, so this would be our fifth semester -- and my being the treasurer for the past four semesters has helped cover one tuition (Ian's) - very helpful. However, my term will expire at the end of this semester, and unless I can fit myself into another board position or job, I would have to pay full tuition for both the older kiddos -- a total of $650 per semester. Not bad, of course, but not pocket change for us either. This co-op is more academic, at least for the 7 year olds and up -- the parents and kids submit class ideas for each semester, they're voted on, and the top three ideas are chosen, provided there are teachers we can hire for the designated topics. For the past semester, Ian's cohort (the same kids are together all day) has taken art, science and history. Oh, and although we're expected to volunteer in the classrom twice per semester, most weeks parents are free to drop off their kids and go.
This semester we decided to try out Friday Co-op, which is run quite differently. It's not a drop-off; all parents are expected to either teach a class or assist in teaching. Most of the classes are less academic -- my kids are taking, as a brief sampling, such offerings as Young Einsteins, Insects and Bugs, Wonderful World of Art, Field Games, and the Dangerous Book for Boys (and Girls). The idea is that having the whole family on site all day encourages a sense of community (which it does, and it's heartwarming to see some of the older kids mingling and playing with the younger ones; there aren't age cliques). I thought that financially speaking (the semester cost $150 per family) it made more sense to do FC, but I wanted us to try it out before dropping MC altogether. However, although I've enjoyed it, I have to say I wasn't prepared for how thoroughly exhausted I am by the end of the day on Friday. Maybe it's because mine are all young, including a toddler who misses her nap, and the facility we use is very spread out so we're constantly running back and forth between two buildings to round up our herd, or maybe because it involves bringing more STUFF (and I'm not even teaching, just assisting!), but most weeks I come home and just want to crash! I talked with a couple other moms today who also have three young ones, and they said they felt exactly the same.
Furthermore, my kids are, understandably, more attached to the Monday group. I think it's an issue of having been there much longer, of course, but also of being with the same kids all day (Friday classes are you-pick-and-choose-from-what's-being-offered) and of having a great playground to run around on during lunch. I know if they could choose, they'd stick with Mondays. With me, I could go either way -- I know the Monday crowd better, but Friday gives me more of a chance to actually interact with the other parents, instead of just the few that I'm close to -- and I haven't met a Friday person I haven't liked yet! But, it is so nice (and non-draining) to have that break most Mondays, when most weeks I can go grocery shopping with just Caroline, or volunteer in the bigger ones' classes while Caroline's happily occupied in the nursery.
Pros and cons, pros and cons. In the fall I really think we should just stick to one co-op, but which will it be?

Oh, and I hope it isn't in horrible taste to bring this up, but you know the general public always criticizes homeschoolers for not giving their kids ample opportunity for "socialization?" (And by the way, just this week as a sample, in two days I had calls/emails from three different moms asking to arrange playdates for my son and theirs -- so you know how well I keep him locked in that closet!) Well, did anyone catch on the news this story about nine third-graders in Atlanta who were caught plotting to attack/kill their teacher with a knife? Check it out -- http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/23904126/

I think this is the kind of "socialization" that my children can do quite well without, thank you very much!

Parents' Night Out

Parents' Night Out, not Moms' Night Out ... because we have an honorary mom, a dad who homeschools his kids fulltime and is (and I mean this in the best, most respectful way) sort of "one of the girls." That is to say, it was the night of the monthly Austin Area Homeschoolers support group meeting, where our topic was "dealing with stress and keeping your sanity," and we had the rare treat of a visit from a veteran mother whose two homeschooled kids are now attending Stanford. She was a fount of wisdom, and as always, I return home from the meeting determined to RELAX about things -- specifically the academics. The "formal" meeting was followed by the "informal" meeting of five of us at Starbucks, where we ended up having this very deep and poignant discussion about parental death and the illness and dying process. One gal's dad just died of emphysema, two of us have terminally ill fathers, and the other two had been through similar processes -- isn't it weird, this sandwich generation? We went through a considerable wad of Starbucks-napkins-masquerading-as-Kleenex. But that led to a discussion of the fragility of our kids' beautiful childhood, and of that instinct we all share to value these precious moments we have with them -- the ones where they crawl into bed with us, the ones where they open up and talk, even the ones where they're a bit annoying -- and not parent simply with the goal of making them exemplary adults, because some of them never get there. If, Lord forbid, our child were to be taken in a car accident at age 18, as two local teenagers recently were, we wouldn't want to feel that our lives were wasted because we worked so hard and nagged so hard just to survive until they made it the "finish line" and left the nest as decent people. We all agreed we'd want to feel that we made something lasting of those moments and days and years in between. You know, those ones that go whirling by.
Heavy stuff, but somehow made more tender by cups of warm decaf mocha and a round table with friends who also find their cherubs amazing, exasperating, exhausting, hilarious, and ultimately lovable.