Friday night live

Earlier this evening...

All four bambini are out in the garage with my beloved.  Tomorrow is the Pinewood Derby for the elder lad's Cub Scout pack, so the lad and his dad are putting the finishing touches on his lustrous truck (another one).  Through the open door I can banging, clanging, scuffling, and the younger lass yelling jubilantly "here we go!"  She and her sister are sitting in the green wagon that is rarely used for outings to the neighborhood playground anymore.  The younger lad is nearby in a stance that reads "train conductor" although he is wearing a black shirt vest (over his white school uniform polo) with green felt strategically cut and placed to look like what Chris Kratt wears on the lads' favorite show Wild Kratts graciously made for him by the mother of one of his classmates after hearing how much he, his brother, and his sisters enjoy that show.  The lasses say they are going to the beach. I'm not sure how the lad fits in the beach trip, but I have every confidence that he's got a plan.  Maybe they're taking the train to the beach.

How they love to go tinker around in the garage with their dad, sometimes stomping around in the bed of his truck, sometimes dabbing paint on small blocks of wood like the elder lass did last year as her brothers painted their Derby cars, sometimes using tools on a project with his skilled and immediate guidance.  The younger lad won't get to enter a car in the Pinewood Derby until next year when he is a first-year Cub Scout, but he's made a car (or is this year's a boat?) both years alongside his brother. 

The outcome of tomorrow's Pinewood Derby is anyone's guess, and we're not worried about that.  The process of creating, crafting, and finishing the cars has been the real prize.

The day has had its ups and downs, from these amicable sounds, school Mass, and lunch with a cherished friend to displays of fury from tired, frustrated bambini and sibling squabbles that are nothing new.  The scene in the garage ended when the lasses came in to get ready for bed and the Derby truck with freshly-installed wheels came in to cure overnight. Then it was the usual nuttiness that is the bedtime routine.

I'm sure glad I stepped away from folding laundry to take in the sights and sounds out in the garage.  It was a moment meant to capture forever.

taking notes

close-to-six-year-old younger lad to his sister the four-year-old elder lass,
with whom he is usually a jovial and willing playmate
(even when the game suggested is playing house):
"Why do you like to play mom?"

elder lass: "because you get to have a purse"

In typical fashion, the four-year-old elder lass has zeroed in on an aspect of the world around her and made it the linchpin of her carefully-considered plans.   As a mother, which she wants to be, she'll tote a purse around (likely with several books and who knows what else, like her own mother) -- but she does that already.

The elder lass at four years old has a very basic, age-appropriate understanding of how mamas are built by God to care for babies.  Realizing how closely the lass is watching me, the other women in her life, and her young girl friends (and taking notes, as evidenced by the purse reference, among others), I am ever mindful of my own attitudes, habits, and comments about myself and others.  I'm also humbled to think of imperfect I am, how prone I am to impatience even as I try to handle sticky situations with humor and fortitude.  I hope she and her siblings grow to be better at that than I am.

Yes, I do know she is four years old.  Remember I take a long view.

Should the Lord call the lasses to be mothers someday, I know they will draw from many sources (including the legacy their mother leaves for them) in approaching their journeys, which likely will not be exactly the same as my own.  As they seek to understand themselves and what roles they are called to play in this world, they will find many pundits -- not all of them trustworthy -- all too willing to supply them with information about what it means to be a woman nowadays.  Thankfully, we have recourse to a wealth of good, insightful, and spiritually-sound resources to help them wade through the static.

Just as Christ is the same yesterday, today, and tomorrow, so too are mothers who are seeking to care for the children entrusted to them both physically and spiritually.  The love we have for our children is a reflection of God's love for us. When we submit to the Lord's will and seek to conform ourselves more closely to it every day, the grace that flows freely is that which makes a job well done possible. 

I pray all our bambini will grow and flourish in the knowledge of God's love for each of them through the care they receive from our hands, so that they might in turn someday lead their little ones to Christ. 

birthday books

The four-year-old elder lass's deep and abiding love for books is well-chronicled here.  She comes by it honestly from both sides.  So for her recent birthday, some gifts were a given.  She had one specific book request: The Pout Pout Fish by Deborah Diesen (I reviewed it here).  I took the liberty of selecting a few others, including a couple of Toot and Puddle books (review here); Sugar Cookies, one of the Cookie books (review here); and this feast for the eyes by Tasha Tudor:

Ms. Tudor was one of those illustrators whose prolific work is iconic -- it evokes feelings of nostalgia, beauty, and wonder.  In this story, two little girls are admiring their grandmother's antique doll named Annabelle and all her accoutrement.  Each page of this doll's alphabet is intricately adorned with details from Annabelle's dresses, furniture, and accessories to floral borders around each scene.  I could easily sit and stare at each page, but the lass urges me to turn and keep reading (or say "beep," much like the sound effect on an audiobook, so she knows to turn the page herself).

This beautiful book ranks high among my other favorite doll books and is one I hope the lasses will continue to pore over for a long time to come.

We weren't the only ones to think books would make good gifts for our lass.  She received, among others, The Tiger Who Came to Tea by Judith Kerr from her aunt and uncle.  I don't know if they knew beforehand, but this book is on my top five list of favorite children's books ever.  It is so charming.  Sophie and her "mummy" are having tea when they receive an unexpected visitor: a tiger.  He's hungry and asks if he may join them for tea.  Her mummy graciously welcomes the tiger inside their apartment (think London 1968, when this book was first published).  Sandwiches, buns, and tea aren't enough to satisfy the tiger; he goes searching for more food and effectively clears the apartment of anything edible as well as all the water in the tap.  When Sophie's daddy comes home, he takes the news pretty well and has a solution to their lack-of-dinner crisis.

Throughout the story, little Sophie is clearly smitten with the tiger.  The sweet illustrations are a soothing counterpoint to what otherwise might be a rather alarming story of a tiger showing up at one's door and proceeding to eat everything in sight (except the people, thankfully).

We had a great time celebrating the elder lass's fourth birthday with a vintage circus theme (based on the pink-on-the-inside tiger cake she requested).  These books are lasting reminders of that happy occasion. 

twenty-some odd questions: 4yo elder lass

Our elder lass turned four years old about a month ago.  What an amazing child of God she is.  Wise, cautious, sensitive, and introspective, there is a lot going on inside her head that she doesn't necessarily share.  She started preschool two days a week this year, and while it took a while for her to be at peace with the idea of separating from me, she has come to love school.  At home she is often found playing school with her dollies,  "snuggle friends", and younger sister.  When she's not teaching , she's likely having storytime for the motley crew, dressing up in a fancy frock along with her sister, or lobbying to get the Play-Doh out.  She studies the world around her intently and is most comfortable with her family members, a few good friends, and her books.  She has mastered the look that is The Stare, but when she smiles her face is radiant.  Her eyes dance, and her laughter can range from bell-like to belly-busting.  One might describe her as enigmatic.  Aren't we all?

With an understanding of her world that continually amazes me,  this precious girl has a read on the landscape that is both complete and insightful.  I pray she will use the traits that are inherent in her God-given temperament to seek him in the quiet spaces and reflect his light in the more chaotic.

The following birthday interview was extracted one question at a time, for she is not given to such disclosures about herself in large doses.  Some of the answers surprise me, but then again, so does she.

*****
 

What’s the best thing about being four? 

Getting things you wanted for your birthday

What do four-year-olds do?

Go to school; be sweet to their baby sister

Favorite color

Blue

Favorite thing to do with Mama

Stay home

What do you want to be when you grow up?

A mommy

What’s the most important thing in life?

To be nice

Favorite thing to do with Daddy

Ride in the truck

Favorite TV show

Wild Kratts

Favorite food

Biscuits and jelly

Favorite book

Skippyjon Jones

Favorite restaurant

McDonald’s

Favorite thing about school

Centers

Favorite center

Pretend/dress-up

Tell me about our family.

There are six people.  There are four children.  One of the children has red hair.

*****

out and about

In the past couple of weeks we've been taking in some local attractions and special events:

• We made it out to see the last B-29 bomber still flying at the local air and space museum, which made for good nostalgia considering it was the plane my Papa Jack trained to serve on as a flight engineer in World War II (though the War thankfully ended before he saw combat).  That event also allowed us the opportunity to sample some of the offerings from a food truck, which was fun from a foodie standpoint, if not necessarily one of expediency.  We waited for a *long* time for that food. 
• We had a great time at our parish school's annual Fair, complete with tasty (and quick) food served by the Knights of Columbus, pony rides (for the horse-loving lads, anyway), a petting zoo, lots of fun games, an obstacle course, and a live bluegrass band.  It was a humdinger of a festival.
• We've been on a few field trips.  The elder lass's preschool class went to a humongous fire station *and* the pumpkin patch (not all in the same place or on the same day), and the younger lad's kindergarten class went to the apple orchard. 

While we greatly treasure and preciously guard our stay home days more so all the time, getting out to these events has been refreshing, exhilarating, and delightful for everyone involved. 

twenty questions, volume three

"snowy volcano cake" (otherwise known as [near] flourless chocolate cake) made by my beloved and the younger lass.  I'm a lucky girl.

I am hellbent adamant about recording the collective memory of our bambini via interviews taken informally around birthdays.  Two years ago I launched this interviewing initiative (with some borrowed questions) on the occasion of my birthday.  Last year's birthday interview was about six months late, so it's only been half a year or so since I polled the bambini about their scatter-brained if well-intentioned mother.  I gave myself a little assessment yesterday.  Today it's their turn to weigh in on what Mama does best, what they seem to remember hearing me say, and the legacy I am leaving for them...

While I attempted to interview the two-year-old younger lass, it became obvious very quickly that doing so would be an exercise in futility.  Maybe next year.

1. What is something Mama often says to you?
7 year old elder lad: I love you.
5 year old younger lad: I love you.
3.5 year old elder lass: I love you.
2 year old younger lass: I sew.

2. What makes Mama happy?
elder lad: I love you.
younger lad: when [we're] not fighting
elder lass: when I smile

3. What makes Mama sad?
elder lad: I hate you. [I'm guessing he means the verbalization of these fighting words.]
younger lad: when [we're all] fighting
elder lass: when I scream

4. What does Mama do that makes you laugh?
elder lad: tickle me
younger lad: tickle me
elder lass: tell funny stories

5. What was Mama like as a little girl?
elder lad: I don't know
younger lad: I don't know
elder lass: I don't know

6. How old is Mama?
elder lad: 34
younger lad: 34
elder lass: ummm.... 33

cookie cake made by my dear dad, as has long been tradition,
with six happy little music notes for the six of us in my little family
and one grand piano with precisely-placed chocolate sprinkle keys.  I'm such a lucky girl.

7. How tall is Mama?
elder lad:  let's say about five feet tall
younger lad: eight feet high... [but] that would be taller than Dad!  Dad's six feet high.  Maybe... aha! You're five feet high!  You're a little bit shorter than Dad [demonstrates with his hand].
elder lass: We'll have to measure you again!

8. What is Mama's favorite thing to do?
elder lad: sew
younger lad: sew
elder lass: sew

9. What does Mama do when you're not around?
elder lad: clean house
younger lad: love me still
elder lass: sew

10.  If Mama were famous, what would it be for?
elder lad: her love
younger lad: loving us
elder lass: I don't know.

11.What is Mama good at?
elder lad: cooking
younger lad: sewing
elder lass: sewing

12. What is Mama *not* good at?
elder lad: crawling on the floor like a horse
younger lad: dancing?
elder lass: she's not good at..... [looks sideways at me] I don't know.

13. What is Mama's job?
elder lad: to watch [my sisters]... and me and [my brother]... to teach us things... to watch us so that we get along............taking care of us
younger lad: to take care of us
elder lass: to sew

14. What is Mama's favorite food?
elder lad: potato soup
younger lad: salad! [points upward victoriously]
elder lass: salad!

15. What makes you proud of Mama?
elder lad: [thinking long and hard on this one] I don't know.  (then later) I said I don't know what makes me proud because you do all kinds of stuff that makes me proud but I just couldn't say it.  I don't know.  ["so you're proud of me, but you're not sure why?"] yeah.
younger lad:  that she snuggles me
elder lass: 'cause she snuggles me

16. What is something we do together?
elder lad: bake
younger lad: sew
elder lass: sew 

17. How are you and I the same?
elder lad: We both have dark hair.
younger lad: We both are humans.
elder lass: We both have black hair. [Actually, we both have brown hair.]

18. How are you and I different?
elder lad: You're a girl and I'm a boy.
younger lad: You have long hair and I have short hair.
elder lass: We don't have the same color skin.  [This elicits my quizzical face, as we are both fair-skinned.]

19. Where is Mama's favorite place to go?
elder lad: Missouri
younger lad: [a local pizza franchise based in the town where I went to college, answering again with the victorious hand gesture]
elder lass: [a locally-owned purveyor of "crispy bite-size chicken"]

20.  How do you know that Mama loves you?
elder lad: 'cause she says so
younger lad: because she tells me that.  Am I done now?
elder lass: because she tells me that.  Am I done now? [yes, they both answered exactly the same in separate interviews}

I'll save the analysis and my response for another time.  For now I'll just say that I think I may have hit upon the way to conduct these interviews successfully -- that would be by parking them in the glider we've had since the elder lad was a newborn.  That way they can rock and fidget and gesture and wiggle around, thus allowing the answers to come freely and resulting in a quick and relatively painless interview that serves as a gift of sorts to Mama and fodder for much navel gazing.

brown baggin'

School has started for our bambini.  The elder lad is in second grade now, the younger lad is a wide-eyed kindergartener, and the elder lass is going to preschool two days a week ('twas her idea).  So far things are going well, though I always brace for a harrowing adjustment time the first few weeks(!) of school as everyone gets used to the new reality.

Along with the earlier wake up call, school days signal a return to packing lunches.  The lads like to eat school lunch when breakfast is on the menu, but otherwise they take their lunch.  The elder lass has to take her lunch.

from Bread and Jam for Frances by Russell Hoban

Given my thorough treatment of picky eating preferences, I still try to keep things interesting as well as healthy and delicious in their lunchboxes. For ideas I pore over all the posts I can find on the subject, including this witty and informative post penned by my sweet friend Katie. I'm especially fascinated by the whole bento box movement, which places a premium on the presentation of food as a pathway to the food actually being eaten. I have yet to carve hot dogs into octopuses of cut out fruit in flower shapes, though. The closest I've gotten is my rainbow fruit skewer.

While some of the bambini are more open than others to variety in their lunchboxes (I won't name names), this passage from Bread and Jam for Frances by Russell Hoban (we are, by the way, big time Frances fans) neatly sums up the attitude of at least one of our bambini when it comes to branching out a bit:

"How do you know what you'll like 

if you won't even try anything?" asked Father.

"Well," said Frances,

 "there are many different things to eat,

and they taste many different ways.

But when I have bread and jam

I always know what I am getting, and I am always pleased."

Frances may not be open to spicing things up a bit (at least not at the beginning; I won't spoil the ending), but at least she and her friend Albert take a real lunch break to enjoy their food.

from Bread and Jam for Frances by Russell Hoban

With the prospect of recess looming for kids who are hungry but eager to burn off some pent-up energy, lunch is less leisurely, more pit-stop-esque, there's hardly time for doilies and tiny vases of violets...

little things

happiness is...

...a sack of fresh library books and a favorite pair of "clip clops"
(and a washing machine back in business, with many thanks to my handy husband)

good news • bad news • good eats

This can't be good:

our washing machine presently

...especially when we're going on a week with a nasty virus afflicting most of us (the elder lad and I are the holdouts).  One might expect that a few days with an offline washer might mean I'd catch up a little, but alas this is not the case.

Downer as that may be, I am happy to report that the elder lad has been branching out a bit from his standard fare, eating more fresh fruit and even some vegetables.  He says broccoli is his favorite, but he and his sister (the three-year-old elder lass) made short work of some of our backyard garden-fresh peas.

Lass could use a manicure.

We had planned to use those peas in a stir-fry for dinner, but our little field hands took a hefty "fee" for their picking work.  That's alright. 

Speaking of stir-frying, that's what I'm writing about today at Foodie Proclivities.  Check it out here.  Have I ever mentioned that my beloved and I lived in the same high-rise residence hall for a semester but never once met?

He lived in the guys' tower and I lived in the girls' tower, but the two towers shared a cafeteria with a wok station (about which I reminisce further in the post at Foodie Proclivities; please do click over).

I can't help but wonder how many times we were in that cafeteria -- maybe even wok-ing -- at the same time.  The Lord sure does have a sense of humor.  He knew it wasn't yet time for us to meet.  I had to work on my stir-frying skills...

their stories

At last week's storytime, the kids in attendance made their own books as part of the "Day of the Child" celebration at the library.  They got to write and illustrate the stories themselves (or dictate the stories to their caregivers, if necessary).

That's what the elder lass did -- dictate to me a story about a cat who plays at the playground with her sister then has a snack and takes a nap.

Clearly, I am not an illustrator of any distinction.

The younger lad's story was, of course, about a robot.  This unnamed robot (not Sammy) dresses up like a dragon and scales some power lines before resting in some grass.

ro.bot book

While I was writing (taking dictation, that is) and illustrating (ahem) the elder lass's tome, the younger lass went to town on some illustrations of her own.  I'm hoping she'll fill in the story eventually.

younger lass's exuberant artwork, much like her personality.  PS: I'm smitten with my new gold tablecloth.

Complete with snacks and more books, it was a festive conclusion to the school year storytime series our friend the talented librarian does so well.  We're looking forward to summer storytimes starting in June.

Inspired by his siblings' creations, the elder lad starting writing a book of his own -- a chapter book, no less.  I'm eager to see where it leads.

"The Tree house" -- a work in progress

In other book-related doings, I've updated a couple of recent book posts, including the follow-up zoo book post and the duck-themed one, with books that came to mind after I'd published the posts and photographs of the books themselves.   I'm always hesitant to assert that I've canvassed the books on a given topic for this very reason.

Whatever shall we do until summer Storytime begins?  Write our own stories, I suppose. I for one will try my hardest not to let our vast quantities of library materials go overdue, which is what usually happens when Storytime is on hiatus and I'm consequently off my routine -- in spite of the safeguards and reminders...

magical ideas

Three year old elder lass asks me as we're driving home from school: "Mama, when I get older, can I have a pink wand?"

me:  "What would you do with it?"

her: "I'd wand [my baby sister] to my room."

me: "Then what?"
her: "I'd play with her."

me: "Play what?"
her: "Horses.  She'd ride in my lap on my horse.  I'd put the wand on her lap."

me: "Like a seat belt?"
her: "Yes."

later that same trip...

Elder lass, looking up from her book: "'B' is for buffalo and for Bonnie, so maybe you should get a buffalo for your birthday."

All this from the usually-reserved girl who described the outfit she meticulously chose for herself today as that of a "rock star."  

I can't make this stuff up.

Epilogue: when she told her daddy that she was a "rock star," he asked her what that meant.  "Is it a person who likes to look at rocks?" he asked her.  "Yes," she declared. 

debriefing

dinner table debriefing in progress...

Elder lass to her daddy: "What did you do at your office?"
Her daddy (my beloved): "I sat in two meetings which took up most of the day."

her: "What is your office like?"
him: "Actually, we met in the kitchen."

her: "In the kitchen?!  Were there curtains?"
him: "No -- there were windows, but it wasn't so bright that we needed curtains."

her: "Did you have a picnic?"
him: "No."
her: "We did."

her: "Where did you take your nap?"
him: "I didn't get to take one."

With that unexpected answer, there were no more questions.

my little librophile

We missed Storytime today but made it to the library after school to pick up our latest haul of books.  At bedtime when I asked, as I always do, the elder lass what the best part of her day was, she said first that she didn't want to tell me, then reluctantly (but without hesitation) she said, "getting fresh books."

hand wash only

The elder lass seeks me out with some important information...
"Mom. There's a stomp rocket on the washer."
 from a recent field trip one of the lads took to the Air and Space Museum

 

"Does it need to be washed?" I ask her.

The look on her face is answer enough, but just to be clear she responds indignantly,

"No!  Stomp rockets don't go in the washer!" 

Which doesn't mean it wouldn't happen, which might precipitate this...

 ... and that wouldn't be good.

a work in progress

Sometimes I think this motherhood business is, aside from that whole tending to and helping form the immortal souls of our children thing, one continual lesson in time management.  In fact, I might go so far as to say that after putting someone else's needs (or several someones') before one's own, time management might be the next lesson learned -- or at least taught -- in Mom School.  I wouldn't exactly call myself an eager student of this exercise in self-discipline, but nonetheless I am still enrolled and sticking with it.

Over the past six months I've adopted a couple of strategies to better manage time and domestic responsibilities.  For example, I now consider the time between our arrival home from school until the time we have dinner together as my "kitchen hour," a term and concept I learned from The Happiest Mom.   After school snacks are dished up; water bottles and reusable lunch containers are washed; folders with school paperwork and things that need my signature/attention/action are assessed; the dishwasher is unloaded; and dinner preparations are undertaken.  All of this an attempt to get dinner served sooner rather than later, since we only have a little while between my beloved arrives home from work until Lights Out and want to make the most of it.   

Another area I've been working diligently on is laundry -- specifically, the folding and stowing of laundry.   The sight of an overloaded "clean" laundry basket (denoted as such with labels on the handles and separate from the baskets we use to collect clothes that need to be washed) with clean clothes spilling over it and all around is so very discouraging that I usually keep right on walking past it.  If I can keep it to one or two loads of clean laundry to fold at a time, that's far more manageable.  The bambini are responsible for putting their laundry away.  They each have their own ways of fulfilling this task.  The elder lad employs his big rig.  The younger lad makes his arms into a forklift to carry his clothes.  The elder lass hugs all her clothes to her body and flits to the closet on tiptoe.  The younger lass -- of course -- makes sure we know which clothes are hers: "I shirt."

And then there is the subject of bedtime -- as in mine.  I'm still the most obstinate sleep fighter in this household, staying up later than I ought to most of the time. In the past several months I've been working to change that.  In the past week, I haven't done so well to that end.

All of these concessions, studies, and strides in time management are done in the name of a more smoothly-running household thanks to the comfort of routine and clear expectations for all.  Although I am still trying to figure out how -- or whether -- to fit in little (or not so little) projects here and there, the effort is paying off as each of these salad days draws to its conclusion.

Thank you, Lord, for this day and for all your many gifts and blessings...

spoiler alert

And now for something completely different...

The lads are fascinated with the life and times of Laura Ingalls Wilder -- well, not so much Laura as her Pa and uncles Henry and George. They've just finished Little House in the Big Woods with my beloved.  It's not their first encounter with Laura, her sisters, Ma, Pa, and their "good ol' bulldog Jack."  We're on our second pass through the picture books in the My First Little House series, having read them when the lads were younger and now again that the elder lass is able to enjoy them.  The picture books are excerpts from Wilder's original stories with illustrations to emulate those of Garth Williams that festooned her first editions.

At school the elder lad has tucked away in his desk a later book in the series for when he has a free moment and has enjoyed providing "spoilers" to the family story such as, "did you know Mary goes blind?!" and "did you know Laura has another sister?" since the picture books and Little House in the Big Woods focus on the family story before baby Grace was born.

I read the Little House books as a young girl and am enjoying reading them again as an adult.  As I do, I can't help but think about what their lives were like -- especially Ma's -- in relation to my own.  Laura was born 145 years ago, and to think of how much the world has changed between then and now boggles the mind.  They might not have had to wrestle with four car seats, but they weren't exactly riding in comfort across the prairie and back, either.

Aspects of the life Laura and her family lived remain relevant to our lives today.  Even with all our modern conveniences and technology, people will always be more important than things.  Reading the original Little House books with their greater level of detail helps us reinforce that message, because we can clearly see how happy and how resourceful they were with the little they had.  They had each other, and that was all that mattered.

As the bambini get older, I am looking forward to reading with them the books that have been written about the other women in Laura's family including her mother Caroline, grandmother Charlotte, great-grandmother Martha, and daughter Rose.

Life in Laura's day certainly wasn't easy.  To read of the hardships they endured really keeps things in perspective!  Yet their devotion to each other and their resiliency supersede all the struggles, making the Little House stories as compelling as ever and inspirational to readers (and listeners) of all ages.