left to chance

"you don't even have to be a good pitcher if you're a leftie," chris explained, "and you still get a huge contract with the majors. we'd be set for life!" i had just asked him what in the world he was doing, after watching him play with liam on the floor of our family room in asheville. liam, all of five months old, seemed to be as confused as i was. chris was crouched on the floor a few feet away from him, rolling a ball over and over again solely towards liam's left side. the child had just recently mastered the art of sitting up on his own -- and even that was iffy sometimes -- and yet, proud papa was trying to get the poor thing to throw him a left-handed curve ball. or something.

of course, this is all tongue-in-cheek. we are certainly no high-pressure, stressed-out, do-or-die set of parents (although i might qualify for an overuse-in-hyphen award.) but seriously ... chris really didn't care if liam turned out to be left-handed. our son might wind up hating all sports entirely and singing in the glee club, and we won't care in the least, as long as he's happy. but in the meantime, the whole dominant side thing became sort of a joke between us. "did you see that, honey? he's got all his nasty wet cheerios crammed in his left fist!" "ooh -- liam just dumped his entire tray of food onto the floor with his left hand!" "wow! liam picked his nose with his left finger!" and so on.

four years later, alas, it's become clear that liam is no leftie. he writes, brushes his teeth, eats, and yes, even picks his nose all with his right hand. based on a few preliminary t-ball practices, chris is still holding out hope that liam might turn out to be a switch-hitter, but for the most part, we're thinking that all those ball rolling exercises proved rather fruitless. but all is not lost! check out the (quite indicative) picture below of our children devouring their ben & jerry's ice cream, gripping those spoons like there was no tomorrow. and then tell me ... how much do professional leftie softball pitchers earn?

i saw the sign

there's a reason why i haven't been posting as often as i usually do. every spring i work online as an assessor for a national educational testing company, scoring open-ended questions on an end-of-year exam. this year my students are from the great state of delaware, attempting to prove their mastery of the algebra I curriculum -- you know, things like variable expressions, systems of equations, operations with radicals, etc. fun stuff. anyway, i commit to putting in at least 20 hours a week, and every year i'm reminded of how difficult it is for me to find 20 hours a week to sit in front of my laptop, reading response after response after response (so far, i've graded 1,798). i can't do it while the kids are awake, so i find snatches of time in the morning and evening and on the rare occasion that they're both at preschool and i'm sitting at home eating my bon-bons. [just a little stay-at-home-mom humor.] so, unfortunately, the blog has to fall by the wayside, along with cleaned bathrooms and folded laundry. rest assured, however, that at least i have my priorities in order. as i sit here to type this brief entry, there are three baskets full of clothes screaming for my attention. so i'll keep it short and sweet. i took the kids to ben & jerry's today for their annual free cone giveaway. on our way from there to the playground to meet up with friends, i got distracted by a cell phone conversation with chris. when i get distracted while driving -- whether it's by my phone or a song on the radio or a question one of the kids has asked from the back seat -- i'm proud to say that my quality of driving does not diminish in the slightest. in the 17+ years i've been a licensed driver, i have yet to be involved in even so much as a fender bender. but what does diminish is any sense of direction that i'd like to think i might have. so, somewhere along the way in our five-minute ride from the mall to the park, i took a wrong turn. BUT ... the detour turned out to be quite serendipitous. a mere block away from my normal route, i came across the intersection shown to the left. i just happened to have my camera (had to capture those munchkins in all their ice cream glory) so i jumped out to snap a picture. what are the odds that our two alma maters would find kinship in a set of street signs in raleigh? maybe someday when liam's really into his teenage hijinks on a bored friday night, he can sneak out with his friends and steal the signs for me. [just a little more mom humor.] i hope for a more enlightening post next time. would any of my faithful readers enjoy a comprehensive dialogue on how to properly assess the mathematical proficiency of a ninth grade student? (lesson #1: when you read a student's solution that begins with, "once again, me and equations DO NOT MIX GOOD", you just might be in for a doozy.)

sneaky little devil

there's been a debate ever since children began to exist as to whether boys or girls are easier to raise. of course, there's no true answer to the question; personality assuredly has more to do with it than gender. but i've always had my own theory: boys are more difficult initially (which i think i surmised as i witnessed toddler liam scale a six-foot high dresser to retrieve a toy he had catapulted onto the top shelf), but girls will give their parents a run for their money once they hit the pre-teen years. (i arrived at that conclusion after teaching middle school for almost a decade.) but i underestimated my daughter. at the tender age of two, our susanna has already begun to practice the fine art of manipulation and deceit -- all rolled into a sweet package of blond-haired, blue-eyed, chubby youth and innocence. after she finished her breakfast this morning, she trotted off in search of diversion while i emptied the dishwasher. i heard her playing with marbles on the hardwood floor, but after a minute or so of silence, i went to investigate. turns out that what i thought were marbles were actually peanut M&Ms. and what i thought was the floor was actually the top of the dining room table. a few weeks ago i had filled a glass vase with easter-colored M&Ms, and had trouble deciding on a spot for it that would be distanced from grubby preschool hands. i ultimately decided to put it on the middle of dining room table, which is surrounded by parsons chairs that are fairly hard to maneuver. but they were no match, apparently, for a chocoholic two-year old. there she was, sitting on top of the table, with her hand, literally, in the candy jar. she looked up at me when i entered the room with wide eyes and a full mouth, pausing mid-chew. "what are you eating?" i asked.

"nothing," she replied. (at least, i think that's what she said. it was rather garbled, given that she had a mouth full of chocolate at the time.)

i thought i'd give her another chance to come clean. "are you eating M&Ms?" she swallowed. "no ma'am," she said, emanating a wave of chocolate peanut breath that washed over me. the gall of this little person! "susanna, we do NOT eat food without asking mommy's permission. this is a no-no. please take your hand out of the vase." and then, as any strict disciplinarian mother would do, i grabbed the digital camera to document this event (ahem) before removing her from the table. she looked up at me, with the most innocent face she could muster, and then had the audacity to utter, "but i was just getting a blue one for liam. he likes blue, you know. it's his favorite." there were so many things i wasn't sure about with this scenario. for one, i wasn't sure of my reaction: do i laugh? marvel? cry? i also wasn't sure how her little mind came up with playing the i-love-my-brother card to attempt to get out of trouble. and, obviously, i wan't sure what to do regarding discipline. but at least i got confirmation that my theory is indeed correct: she's definitely going to be giving us a run for our money. that's the one thing i am sure of.

a slight misunderstanding

the kids and i were seated around the kitchen table eating lunch yesterday afternoon. susanna and i chatted back and forth, but liam sat still, staring out into the backyard, deep in thought. after a moment, he turned to me and asked, "where are we going to put all the animals?" i had no idea what he was talking about, and told him as much. "you know, the farm animals. where will we put them? in the back yard? or on the deck? can they drink super's water? do they need beds?" the questions kept coming, and with each one, i became even more confused. i still hadn't a clue, and told him as much, again. he sighed. "you know, mommy. the animals from our mite boxes! the ones they give us when we take our mite boxes to church on Easter. those animals." and all of a sudden, i got it. and then, i began to laugh. our son, who has been dutifully donating five cents each day out of his allowance throughout this Lenten season, had evidently misunderstood the charity to which his nickels were going. this year, the funds raised through our church's mite box program are supporting heifer international. on the day the kids brought home their mite boxes from sunday school, chris and i explained to them that this money will help give families farm animals, who can then provide the families with milk and eggs and future baby animals. we thought it best to keep it simple. our simplified approach was apparently not very effective. [for anyone unfamiliar with this amazing organization, here is the mission statement printed on the bottom of each mite box: "Heifer International has helped 8.5 million families in more than 125 countries move toward greater self-reliance through the gift of livestock and training in environmentally sound agriculture. the impact of each initial gift is multiplied as recipients agree to 'pass on the gift' by giving one or more of their animal's offspring to another in need."] for the past six weeks, our son has expected that on Easter Sunday, in exchange for presenting his mite box at the altar, he will be given a cow. and a sheep. and a goat. and a chicken. ("that's all i need," he said.) and, furthermore, that we will be returning home with these animals to peacefully co-exist with us, as they graze in the grass of our back yard next to the swingset. farm animals, from church. on Easter. kind of gives the phrase "holy cow" a whole new meaning.

the kindness of strangers

"here you go, buddy," the older gentleman said, his palm outstretched toward liam. in his hand was a baseball. a dirty, grass-stained foul ball, from the first half-inning of the UNC vs. davidson baseball game. this kind usher, dressed from head to toe in carolina blue, then helped us find our seats. i'm not quite sure how the ball had come into his possession; it might have landed in his vicinity, or he might have retrieved it from an area where no one was sitting. shoot, he might have even caught it himself. but no matter. he gave it to liam as a gift, as an elder lover of the game to a future lover of the game -- a bright-eyed little boy, decked out in a dodgers jersey and a UNC baseball cap. liam held on tight to that ball throughout the remaining eight innings, precariously, at times, as he chewed his hot dog from one hand and a soft pretzel from the other. he slept with it in his bed that night, and brought it to school the following morning for show-and-tell. it's amazing what an impact a seemingly small gesture like that can have. i'd be surprised if the usher even remembers it; there are hundreds of excited little boys who sit in those seats throughout the season, and hundreds of foul balls. to him, it was probably just another foul ball and just another little boy. but to liam, this memory will come flooding back years from now, as he reminisces on his first carolina baseball game. he loved everything about being there, from sitting in the fancy new stadium with the cool scoreboard, to witnessing home runs and amazing catches, to watching the tarheels play against the team that his own daddy played on in college. but there's no doubt that his foul ball was the highlight of them all. if liam has one iota of his father's baseball skills, i'm sure that there will be many, many more balls in the years to come, from games in which he's a player and not just a spectator. but the first one is special. the first game was special. and that man, who knelt down and bestowed this gift to my son, well, he's pretty special, too.

true to her hue

easter egg hunt #142 of our week took place this morning after church, all over the beautiful grounds of st. michael's. we've had hunts at school, in our house, in the backyard, at my parents', at friends', and at the park. you'd think that by now, this simple pleasure might be getting old -- but it's not. the elation on their faces, as they clutch their baskets in their hands in eager anticipation, is priceless.

the organizers today split up the children according to age, so chris took liam to one of the side gardens while i stayed with susanna on the front lawn. for the 1- and 2-year old classes, the word "hunt" was probably a misnomer. it was really more like an easter egg pick-up. there was basically a couple hundred eggs strewn in plain sight in the grass, and right at 11:30, they declared it open season for the little ones. susanna was quite particular in mapping out her strategy. i had my eye behind the lens of the camera for most of the time, so while i noticed how she would pass up a few while marching over to a certain egg she desired, i didn't give it much thought. it wasn't until she concluded her hunt and proudly showed off her collection that i realized her criteria for the eggs she selected. there were eggs of every color in the rainbow in that grass this morning, but somehow, only one color was deemed worthy enough to earn a spot in susanna's basket. any guesses as to what it might be? a riddle to assist: to determine the hue,

you don't have to think.

from the photo you view,

it has to be ...