I have a dream

Recently in school, my daughter's first grade class was discussing Martin Luther King, Jr. - his life, his dreams, and his accomplishments.

Below are some excerpts from his speech, given on August 28, 1963, from the steps of the Lincoln Memorial in Washington, D.C.:

• I have a dream that one day this nation will rise up and live out the true meaning of its creed: "We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal."
• I have a dream that my four little children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color of their skin, but by the content of their character.
• I have a dream that one day on the red hills of Georgia the sons of former slaves and the sons of former slave owners will be able to sit down together at a table of brotherhood.

And now ... on the heels of those stirring and inspiring words ... I present to you my daughter's dream ...

...which is, apparently, to be on the receiving end
of a multitude of gifts.

Pick yourself up, dust yourself off

[Sigh] It's been one of those days. But, choosing to look on the bright side, here is what I accomplished:

I unloaded and reloaded the dishwasher.

I went grocery shopping and actually planned more than one day ahead.

I read to my daughter.

I made dinner for my family.

Will I do the laundry tonight? This is yet a mystery, but there is hope.

You need not be impressed by this paltry list, but here is the backdrop that causes me to count minor as major:

I spent the entire weekend in bed (literally), recovering from/staving off a nasty cold. This was difficult to do because of the gnawing guilt we mothers suffer when we are not being all that we think we should be, or, in fact, being not one smidge what we think we should be. I did not cook. I did not clean. I did not plan meals. I did not take care of children. What did I do? Crosswords. And I watched season 2 of The Office (apparently I missed this season entirely - Hey, Dad, I'm ready for a rematch), among other random Netflix offerings.

In addition to this weekend's specific lack of accomplishment, this school year we have been highly negligent in our responsibility toward our daughter, the second-born, by not consistently reading with her every day, which is, by the way, a required component of her daily homework. Again, not my child's failure, but my own (see Science Fair post for reference to this guilt-trip).

Regarding the dinner issue: Due to the recent rash of upper-respiratory illnesses in the house, demanding work schedules, busy extracurricular activities, and general fatigue, my desire to provide healthy, home-cooked meals for my family has proven a difficult undertaking. Over the last few weeks, sadly, we have accumulated numerous various fast-food-kid-meal toys. The unhealthiness of it all (plus the expense) nearly drives me mad. But when you are in survival mode, you survive, and to survive is enough. And now we move on.

As I was pondering these things this evening, while I was working on the dinner I had no desire and little energy to prepare, the following song lyrics along with its cheery tune intruded itself into my mind:

"Pick yourself up, dust yourself off, and start all over again."

You just don't expect the Lord to speak a word of encouragement to you in the form of an old Astaire/Rogers song. And yet He does.

Moby Dick

If you have read one of my previous blogs, you will remember that I am endeavoring to delve into the world of literature once again after too long an absence. How I will achieve this lofty goal, I do not know, but that is why it is an endeavor.

On our most recent trip to the library, we checked out the Voyage of the Dawn Treader (if you sense the Narnian theme recently, it is because I seem to be revisiting this treasured period from my childhood) on CD. The children and I have been listening whenever we are strapped into the minivan, flitting about from errand to errand, and Emma seems particularly taken with the story.

But, this blog is about a seafaring tale of a different sort. You see, as I was wandering through the library, I found myself browsing the audio books for adults, and there it was - an absolutely monstrous CD case, as far as audio book CD cases go. It was big. But I suppose that is apt - you know ... Moby Dick. Of course, the case has to be big to hold all 18 CDs. 18 CDs. A mere 21 hours of listening pleasure. Sure, I've got time.

When my eyes happened upon this epic story, standing there, unclaimed, on the library shelf, it occurred to me that this is one of those classic American novels that never seemed to be required reading throughout all of my school years and I had never been inclined to read it on my own. So followed the thought, I should read that book. Or at least listen to that book. So here we are. Me and my big stack of CDs. It's a little exciting.

I began listening yesterday. My goodness, that Mr. Melville is a wordy one! I am sure this impression is magnified by the act of listening to this story versus reading it. In reading, one is able to move at one's own pace, taking time to absorb and digest the words on the page, re-reading and pausing where necessary. But listening to this story is requiring active participation on my part - I can't help but feel that the gentleman who lent his voice to this recording is speeding through the text, as if he himself is thinking, 18 CDs!, I've got to hurry! This, coupled with the 1850's language and idioms and the terminology relating to whaling, is making listening to this book a strenuous (if not welcome) exercise of my intellect. I can feel my vocabulary stretching and expanding with every near-breathless word of the poor narrator. Though at the outset I was unsure if I would be drawn in by the tale, I now find myself significantly intrigued and am looking forward to my morning commute.

And, in a random, further nod to Mr. Handler (a.k.a. Lemony Snicket), reading has now become my own personal literary scavenger hunt, as I have found yet another source of one of his obscure references in the pages of Moby Dick.

Science Fair Fun

The kids turned in their science fair projects this week.

It almost felt like I was turning in my science projects. Perhaps that is because nearly our entire weekend revolved around the completion of said projects. And perhaps it is because the fact that all the work was crammed into one weekend reflected a failure on my part, not theirs, so I felt the urgency rather keenly. I couldn't help but feel my own procrastinating nature was in part a cause of the delay (although my husband assures me we really couldn't have worked it out to start sooner due to illnesses and our new jam-packed after-school schedule). And perhaps it is because the restraint it takes to guide a young, inexperienced student through the process of planning and carrying out a project according to strict guidelines feels like an incredible amount of work. It is not easy to bite your tongue and hold back your own ideas and let your children work things out on their own.

Boy, am I pooped!

But, oh so proud! This was Emma's first science fair project. First-graders are not required to complete a project, but having been exposed to the regional science fair last year with her brother (oh, the glory! the glamour! the ribbons! the Jim Spencer!), she was determined to do one. (Incidentally, she was the only one in her class to turn in a project, which rather surprised me.) She did a fantastic job. I am most proud of the effort that both she and he put into it. Especially on our condensed schedule, I expected much more frustration and general belly-aching. They didn't give up and never lost their enthusiasm.

The most satisfying moments were listening to Jared's excitement and anticipation to present his project in front of his class and hearing Emma say (mostly to herself), "I'm proud of me." I'm sure I remember both of them exclaiming at some point over the weekend, "Science projects are fun!"

What? Learning is fun? Awesome.

Quality time with the boy

Yesterday, I spent an enjoyable afternoon with my son at our first gymnastics meet. Jared recently was invited to join the Boys Gymanstics team and now spends 6 hours a week at the gym, which he loves! This Saturday was the first of this season's competitions, and even though he is not competing yet, we decided to check it out to see what his (& our) future holds. I had no idea what to expect when we showed up - I figured we would stay about an hour and then head home. I did not anticipate spending 4 hours sitting on hard, plastic bleachers watching 100+ boys rotate through 6 apparatus. (I marveled later how it can be that simply sitting on your rear end for hours manages to deplete all of your energy.)

Numb tushy notwithstanding, we had a great time together. I honestly expected him to lose interest quickly, especially since he is just itching to compete and it can be torturous to watch others do something you love while you are relegated to the sidelines. This is also the child who basks in the limelight and who craves to be the center - in fact, on the way to the meet he was musing about this very thing and questioning whether I thought it selfish for him to feel this way. Said he emphatically, "I want people to notice me. I want them to notice me for the things that I do well." Is this not the human condition? Yet, how many of us would dare to say it out loud? I want people to notice me! What if we all could be as honest as a child and really know ourselves?

But let me now return from that tangent ...

Jared, as he often does, surprised me and wanted to stay through the entire competition, including the lengthy awards ceremony that took place afterwards. I must confess I checked with him often, "Are you sure you don't want to go now?" Nope. He happily cheered on his teammates, authoritatively critiqued others' technique (always prefaced with a kind, "No offense, but..."), and oohed & aahed over the skillful displays of athleticism. At one point, he wistfully stated how he wished he had only begun gymnastics when he was younger.

It was wonderful and I wouldn't trade our time spent together for anything (not even for the Saturday crossword, a soft couch, a quiet house and a piece of dark chocolate!)

How does the story end?

Prior to our Florida road trip adventure, we checked out a multitude of books and books on CD from our local library to keep us (i.e. the children) entertained along the way. One of my selections was "A Horse and His Boy", by C.S. Lewis. But, alas, my dear children were not interested in listening to this Narnia tale during our travels (no matter how many times it was gently suggested).

So, last week I decided I would listen to it by myself, having not read the book in years and having only a vague remembrance of the plot. It has been very pleasant having an old, familiar story read to me while I am idling in traffic -- much better than listening to the radio with its inane talk, useless traffic updates and unending pledge drives (I intend no offense to NPR - I very much enjoy NPR).

The books and CDs we had checked out for our trip were nearly overdue, so I renewed the Narnia tale online and turned in the rest on Tuesday.

Well, this morning I came to the end of CD #3, just before some climactic battle was to take place, and when I reached down to grab the case for CD #4, I discovered - no case. Inadvertently, I had returned the set (minus CD #3, of course) to the library with the other books and CDs. Arrrgh. Now I will have to make time to go to the library, explain my error and check the set out again so I can listen to the last few chapters. Not that I don't already know how the story ends - I do remember now. And I could just go grab the book off of my son's shelf and read it to myself, but I rather enjoyed being read to.

The funny thing about deciding to listen to it myself without the children, is that when they were with me in the car and it was playing, they were so enrapt! And so INDIGNANT that I would listen without them! Now they are hooked (cue conniving laughter - they have fallen into my trap! mwah-ha-ha-ha!) and I have promised Emma that when I check it out again, I will allow them (if I must!) to listen to the WHOLE story.

What do you do when ... ?

What do you do when ... it is 7:20a.m.,

... you are preparing your children's lunches,
... you are attempting to feed your children a nutritious breakfast,
... you are getting ready for work, yourself,
... the cat is whining for food (oh yes, he whines),
... you are making sure all backpacks are packed,
... you are reminding your daughter, as always, that she simply must get dressed,
... your departure time of 7:30 is fast approaching,

and, THIS is the time your son decides to bring up yesterday's incident, in a quavering voice (the quavering voice that signals the coming confession and subsequent justification), in which his book, the book he was looking at (definitely NOT reading, because THAT would have been disrespectful) instead of listening to the math lesson, was taken away from him, and, oh by the way, he needs a note from his parents if he wants the book back today?

This is what you do ...

First, you react to this piece of news with a short-tempered and snappy word of chastisement. Then, you silently strain to remind yourself what a really sweet, sweet boy he is, and you force yourself to bring to mind the tender and unsolicited words of praise and thankfulness for you, his mother, that he bestowed upon your ears just the day before. And, if you are lucky, while you are remembering these things, your husband will calmly take him into the bathroom to fix his hair, during which time they will have a brief conversation about the incident, and when they emerge (your son expertly coiffed), the previously brewing tension and upset will have been dispelled and your sensitive child's heart will have been warmed. You leave for school (on time), and then you smile, because your heart has been warmed, too.

Vacation Log - Stardate ... (just kidding)

There is something about being on vacation - so many expectations to do great things, fun things, make every moment count! -- yet I always seem to come home wondering, where did the time go? This past trip we had a little less than a week in which to squeeze all of our relaxing and fun-having. While I did have a splendid time, there are still things I didn't get to do. Such as...

1. Play cribbage with my dad -- I have not yet found a local cribbage partner so I always look forward to getting to play with my dad. Plus, he's awesome. I could try to teach my husband, but I am not actually good enough to teach someone else the game. I do have a friend here who I was supposed to teach, but between kids and work and school and life it seems we never got around to it. It's probably just as well for me - she would have put me to shame in no time (you know, 'cuz she's smart and can do math in her head).
2. Relax and play on the beach -- I only went to the beach once this trip. This is regrettable, as my parents' house is within walking distance (WALKING DISTANCE!) of the beach and the weather was quite pleasant. I always dream of rising at the crack of dawn and going shelling. So far, it has only ever been a dream. Next trip, next trip.
3. Read for pleasure -- I brought a library book with high hopes of losing myself in its pages. I think I cracked it open in the car on the way home. So sad.
4. Take stunning beach photos -- Not only did I not take any stunning beach photos, I took no beach photos (I am not counting the ones we tried to take at sunset one day because they did not capture the beauty of the scene). What a shame. But I must point out that I do prefer the summer for this - with the sea oats in bloom and dancing gracefully in the breeze - ahhhhh.

On the positive side, though, let me tell you what I did enjoy:

1. Playing The Office DVD game with my dad -- Although it turns out I do not know as much about The Office as I imagined; apparently I am not an Office fanatic. This is a good thing, methinks. For my gamepiece I chose to be Toby - what does that say about me? Dad chose Kevin - what does that say about him?
   
2. Watching my kids get showered with love (oh yeah, and presents) from not only their grandparents, but also from my parents' wonderful friends who have, over the past few years, become very dear to us as well.
3. Spending time with the above-mentioned dear friends. They have embraced my family - their friendship and love is a precious thing indeed and we are thankful to count them as our friends.
4. Eating at Billy Bob's Beach Barbecue -- what does it say that a Texas girl has to travel to Pensacola, Florida to get her favorite barbecue? The baby back ribs - scrumptious! Pulled pork - yummy! Nothing against Rudy's and the Salt Lick - I just love Billy Bob's! Hey, barbecue is a subjective thing.
5. Finding and purchasing a beautiful print of an oil painting of a sailboat (identical to the one Mom has hanging in the foyer). If I ever get it framed, I will hang it on my wall, stare at it wistfully and dream of the water [sigh].
6. Working crossword puzzles, cryptograms, anacrostics, etc. to my heart's content! (thanks Mom & Dad for the puzzle book!) I guess this is what I was doing when I wasn't trekking to the beach.

Seeing as the "did it" list (which, BTW, I could have easily added to) does outnumber the "didn't do it" list, I have to say this vacation was a success!

The Best Birthday Present Ever

My husband is a genius. For his birthday this past September, he asked for something big. He asked for ...

a trampoline.

What a strange thing for a forty-something-year-old to request for his birthday, you may say. Indeed. But seeing as how he never asks for ANYTHING, I was more than happy to make the purchase.

And what a wonderful present it has been! Weather permitting, the kids are on it. Even as I type, they have cajoled my husband into joining them on this unseasonably warm Saturday morning. The laughter and squeals drifting into the house are delicious. They have created their own games - for example, the Stay-Away-From-The-Bottle-While-Jumping game (this game involves a water bottle and 2 energetic youngsters.) They have befriended the cutest (so I hear) little green bug who they apparently see quite frequently on the netting. My son, the budding gymnast, has a place to hone his skills. And it is also a handy thing when I perceive he needs some cooling off time - I simply send him to "jump it out". How can one's emotions remain bottled up whilst jumping and bouncing and twirling and flipping?

Yesterday, I finally allowed myself to be dragged outside to join in the fun (Emma had been begging and pleading with me ALL DAY to PLEASE come and jump). We had a blast! And I think I may have even gotten some (unintended) exercise.

So, happy birthday, Titus! I can't wait to see what you ask for next year.

Home Sweet Home

(the title is trite, but felt apt)

Upon arriving home yesterday from our week away, as my son walked through the door, he immediately inhaled a deep breath, sighed, and said, It smells like our house - Mmmmm - I love it!

Home is a soothing place, no matter that the odor you smelled when you walked in seems more stuffy and un-lived-in than pleasant and welcoming, no matter the clutter that awaits you, the chipping plaster, the unfinished projects, the yard in desperate need of nurturing hands (and a leaf blower).

Sometimes we just need the words of a child to open our eyes to the treasure in front of us. It smells like our house. Mmmm. I love it.