2010: the year it's been

i'm seriously struggling with my final post on this blog for 2010.  i feel compelled to somehow recap the year, to tie up the loose ends as if our family narrative were a literary work with a conclusion.  of course, that's not the case at all; tomorrow we will wake up and the kids won't even know that the calendar has turned over a new page unless we remind them.  (shoot, in our old age, chris and i will need reminding ourselves.  we're spending our new year's eve at the beach -- i'm on the computer and he's playing the wii -- does it get any more exciting than that?!)

so i'm really running dangerously low on creative juices at the moment, but there's only one december 31 and the hours are waning.  here goes.

MOST EXCITING EVENT
susanna:  she attended her first wedding (my brother's) and even had her own tiara to wear, and she met real-live ballerinas at the nutcracker.  but her dance recital wins the prize.  we were concerned that our shy, often-withdrawn daughter might shrink on the stage, or perhaps refuse to even perform at all.  not so!  she knew every step, every cue, and especially every curtsy.  with a dab of blush on her cheeks and a dollop of lip gloss on her mouth, this will definitely be a hard one to top.
sara: choosing a builder and collaborating on a plan for a major kitchen/powder room/mud room renovation and expansion. getting to make all those fun selections -- layout, cabinets, flooring, appliances, backsplash, counters, etc. was easily the most exciting thing for me in 2010. and we're not even starting the project until summer! can you imagine the level of my excitement when it's actually complete?
chris:  he won the two top prizes in his fantasy football league, which is a Very. Huge. Deal.  i hereby relinquish all rights to complain about the time he invests in this pastime, as it has turned into quite the lucrative hobby.
liam:  liam had more exciting events in 2010 than the rest of us combined.  he rode in his first airplane.  he jumped off the diving board for the first time.  he pulled out his own tooth while we drove down the interstate to the beach.  he started kindergarten.  he played joseph in our church's christmas pageant.  but the #1 event?  his first ride on the school bus.

SADDEST EVENT
for all of us, it was definitely losing my sweet, dear, beloved grampa, one week shy of his 88th birthday.  he was an absolutely amazing man and we miss him terribly.  but every so often, totally out of the blue, one of the kids will stop, look up at the sky, and wave.  "just wanted to say hi to pop-pops!" they'll smile, before returning to whatever they were doing.  it was their first lesson in loss, but it turned out to be a very meaningful way to show them how vitally important our faith is.  there's a silver lining in everything if you look hard enough.

BIGGEST CHANGE

sara:  my work hours almost doubled and switched from afternoon to morning.  while it works out quite well in the sense that now liam and susanna are in school while i teach, i have to admit that it's cramped my style somewhat.  i've had to rearrange things like bible study, tennis matches, and volunteer commitments, and most stores don't open early enough for me to do any serious shopping.  life is rough.  J

liam: whew -- the whole kindergarten thing can turn someone's life upside down!  (it can turn an entire family's life upside down, come to think of it.)  instead of being gone for just three hours in the morning, liam's now gone for almost eight.  he's got homework, responsibilities, and less time for playdates.  and don't even get me started on bagged lunches.

susanna: she's really starting to come out of her shell socially.  she's constantly talking about all of her new friends at school or church or on the playground, and was actually invited to 14 parties in a five-week span this fall.  (i guess she just saves that surly attitude that i've recently mentioned just for us at home -- aren't we lucky?)

chris:  okay.  i have to admit that i've written this entire post and come back to this one piece, stumped.  i couldn't think of any big way that chris's life has changed ... his job is the same, his volunteer positions are the same, his interests are the same, and he's even driving the same car (incidentally, my college graduation gift that currently has like 160,000 miles on it).  so i just interrupted his wii game to ask him.  he thought about it for a minute or two, before coming up with one.  "i now have to check the box for ages 35 to 44 on surveys," he said. 

COMING ATTRACTIONS
susanna: six weeks until our family trip to disneyworld, and she's already discussing the pros and cons to which princess dress she'll wear to our dinner at cinderella's castle.
liam: he starts attending a higher-grade math class as soon as we return from christmas break. i am crossing my fingers he doesn't dissolve into a fit of hysterics the first time something doesn't come easily for him. our first child is a total perfectionist and i daresay an academic challenge might be just what he needs, if for no other reason than to show him that it is healthy to sometimes not get things right away and watch your peers solve problems more quickly than you. (i'm packing some tissues just in case this lesson is lost on him the first few days.  breathe in, dear child, breathe out.)
sara: my new kitchen!
chris: paying for the new kitchen.  and disneyworld.  let the fun begin!

sparklers on the beach deck to ring in the new year -- at 8 p.m.

dreams fulfilled

according to the chinese calendar, last year was the Year of the Ox.  here in the US, of course, it was just 2009.  i've often thought that the chinese should be commended for creativity -- who needs numbers when you can define time with living creatures instead?  so this is my idea: in the future, we'll refer to past christmases not by the year, but by the presents the kids received.  for example, we won't look at pictures and say that they were taken in 2009; we'll say, "oh yeah ... that was the Year of the DS and the Bike."  and 2010?  "that was the Year of the Basketball Goal and American Girl Doll."  (hmm.  that's a pretty long name.  no wonder the chinese stick with animals.)

anyway, for months now, the only thing liam has requested has been a basketball goal.  it was actually quite difficult to give suggestions to family, because we knew santa would likely be taking care of the one thing on his list (seeing as how he'd heard about the thing every time liam sat on his lap) and there wasn't much else liam would even mention.  susanna, on the other hand, had a list a mile long, which varied depending on the day of the week and what toy catalog she happened to be holding.  but the one constant was the american girl doll named kit.

on christmas morning, our two poor children were forced to wait at the top of the stairs while i positioned myself with the video camera near the tree.  they entered the family room, mouths agape at the transformation that had taken place while they slept and a bit overwhelmed at where to begin, so we finally suggested two particular boxes to open.  santa had written liam a riddle to solve and had enclosed it in his box, which was supposed to lead him to look out the window -- but in all the hubbub, he didn't quite get it.  (he races through reading the poem outloud on the video, so don't expect to understand anything but the final two lines, and that's only because i repeat them for emphasis.)

but what is clear is their sheer JOY at discovering that santa had granted them their wishes.  unfortunately, what's also clear is my high-pitched squeal.  when susanna does it, it's endearing.  when i do it, it's grating.  perhaps 2010 will go down as the Year of the Shriek.

the magic

there's just no better way to describe christmas with a four- and six-year old in your house than magical.  i know these years are fleeting; sooner than i want, that magic will begin to wane and i'll have to use more common adjectives like special and memorable.  but for now, chris and i submerge ourselves in their delight and wonder, letting their enthusiasm transform us into giddy, awestruck, excited little kids too.

out of all the festivities surrounding the holiday, from the beginning of advent through epiphany, my absolute favorite time is christmas eve.  and i'm not even talking about the day of christmas eve, although it's filled with events like the children's pageant, and the church service that follows, and our extended family lunch, and the dinner that we host in our home that evening.  i'm talking about the eve of christmas eve, when it's finally dark outside, and the last guests have left and there are just the four of us.  liam and susanna's pajamas are on, their teeth are brushed, and the platter of carrots and cookies for santa and his reindeer is sitting on the table.  they're curled up on the sofa, flanking chris as he reads twas the night before christmas, just as my own father did to me and my siblings for decades and how i imagine millions of households also wind down their day.

i think that i am more consciously thankful at this moment than at any other time of year.  thanksgiving day, after a while, seems almost forced, as if we are being hit over the head with reminders to BE GRATEFUL OR ELSE.  but on christmas eve, as the night turns dark, everything gradually slows, and i become reflective.  the hectic, crazy, busy season, with its parties and shopping and cooking and school programs and the inevitable stress that results despite your best efforts otherwise, is over.  in its place is calm.  peace.  quiet.  and all that's left for us to do is simply wait.  i look towards the couch with my camera in hand, and i stare at the three most important people in my world, and i am humbled by our blessings.

and that's the kind of magic that means the most.

o holy morning

liam was honored to play the role of joseph in this year's christmas pageant at our church.  what makes this even more meaningful is that, thirty years ago at our same church, i played the role of mary.  while the heavenly host (including susanna, decked out in a glittery halo and huge gold wings) quietly observed, he made his way down the long aisle with mary and the little gray donkey trailing behind.  he learned his lines well: "do you have any room in the inn?  my wife is going to have a baby!" and i wouldn't be surprised if hollywood comes calling soon.

i'll assuredly have lots more pictures to share of christmas fun, but for now, on this christmas eve night, as we wait in anticipation for christ's birth, i'd just like to post these.  we wish you all the merriest of christmases!

with love,

chris, sara, joseph, and an angel

sweet.

it's hard to predict, even after six years of parenting, what gifts are going to be worth the money and which ones aren't.  it seems like every year, one of the kids will have their hearts set on something -- whether it's a certain game or toy or craft -- and then, after their elation of tearing open the wrapping paper to find their heart's desire inside, we never really see much of it again.  (whenever this happens, chris calls it a Kix Experience.  growing up, he became convinced his life was not quite complete without having kix sitting on the cereal shelf of his pantry.  but when his mom finally caved in and bought it, he was sorely disappointed.)  this happens often enough with our kids that we currently have a trunk full of these treasures headed over to goodwill to, hopefully, make some other children truly happy.

on the other hand, there are many, many items we've bought that have shocked us by how loved and used and adored they turned out to be.  this is never more apparent than at christmastime, as we drag out the holiday boxes from storage.  because, without a doubt, the biggest hit in the mann family -- the most loved, most used, and most adored -- is the fisher price nativity set.  did we have any notion of how well received it would be?  no.  it was a last minute decision at target, when i noticed there was only one box left and figured that it must be a good thing to have if they were down to their last set and it was still early november.  it seemed divinely inspired, so i squeezed it into my cart and carried it home.  

and what a treasure that non-researched, unrequested, unknown item would turn out to be!  our loyal readers might remember it from a few years back -- i was so enamored with the thing that i actually wrote about it twice (here and here).  the kids' interest in it hasn't waned one iota, but especially after re-reading those posts, i realize how far their understanding has come.

liam and susanna like to team up to put on "puppet shows" (a misnomer, because, of course, these are not puppets, but figurines.)  they'll crouch down on the rug in the family room underneath the coffee table and instruct their audience (usually eight or ten stuffed animals) to sit on the couch.  and then they'll stage a somewhat rudimentary production of the first christmas -- unscripted, unrehearsed -- but surprisingly chock- full of biblical truth.  for example, in yesterday's production, liam made sure that joseph was lying down because the angel was going to visit him in a dream.  today, mary and joseph had a short discussion about how they were only engaged and now that they were expecting, they knew that they needed to go ahead and get married. 

and tonight, right before bed, susanna positioned the angel gabriel in the sky above the manger for a very important announcement.  in her high-pitched voice, gabriel informed the audience of one (me) that, "the baby has been born!  and he is so great and he is blessed and he will be called M&M - ull!"

M&M-ull.  Emmanuel.  a candy, and our Savior's name.  both are so sweet, in completely different ways.  it is my sweet daughter who already knows the story so well, at the tender age of four.  it was a sweet angel, proclaiming the best news of history.  and it was the sweetest message the world has ever heard.

no matter how you pronounce it.

wordless wednesday

a friend of mine whose last child left for college this past fall estimated how many lunches she had packed for her family over the years, and i seem to remember the number was close to 10,000.  ten thousand.  bagged lunches.  TEN THOUSAND.  no matter how many times i say it, i still have a hard time wrapping my mind around the digit one with four zeroes behind it. 

i was on lunch #78 yesterday afternoon (but who's counting?) and was on auto pilot.  sandwich (either ham & cheese or PB&J, put in a green tupperware container).  baggies of pretzels or crackers.  water bottle.  fresh fruit (or applesauce when our produce drawer is bare.)  cheese stick.  dessert.  by this point i honestly think i could do it in my sleep.  and a few times a week, i'll throw in a note with a joke or drawing or message to brighten his day.  i know in a few years, such inserts will probably make him roll his eyes, but for now, he loves to find these little surprises nestled among the other goodies.
 
while i was absentmindedly rinsing out the water bottle to refill, susanna was bent over something at the kitchen table, pink marker gripped in her left hand and a frown of concentration on her face.  and as i began to zip up liam's lunch box, she hopped up from her chair to join me.  "wait!"  she said.  "don't forget his napkin!"

and this is what she gave me:

 (translation: Dear Liam, I love you.  Love, Susanna.)

look at how far we've come

join us, won't you, for a walk down memory lane?  you'll wonder why mr. claus still bothers to come visit us, given the reactions our children have had to him over the years.

2006: six-month old susanna wanted nothing to do with him

2007: liam lasted all of a half of a nanosecond on his lap

2009: susanna.  meltdown.  enough said.

but we FINALLY had a successful visit with the jolly old guy at our club today.  in fact, susanna excused herself twice from brunch to go back and talk to santa since she kept thinking of additional presents she needed to request from him.  a far, far cry (no pun intended) from what happened last year, to be sure.

2010: all smiles!

and after a year of intense therapy, i'm pleased to report that chris has come quite a long way himself this year.   

wordless wednesday: the gofster chronicles, part 1

on the first of december, a new month arrived along with our old pal gofster.  we'd been anticipating the arrival of our elf friend ever since the christmas music started being played on the radio (which felt like right around halloween), so when he finally appeared rappelling from a zip line he'd rigged up in the family room, the kids couldn't have been happier.

he's got quite a few tricks up his sleeve this year.  some he's created with the help of inspiration from his other elf friends (who must discuss ideas when they return to the north pole each night), and some he's created all on his own.  we've neglected to photograph all his antics, but below are a few.

just what will this sneaky elf think of next?  stay tuned ...

after a long flight, seems he was ready to relax in bath of M&Ms

perched up high in the playroom, reading a book to a reindeer

and the kids' favorite so far -- he created a mii for himself on the wii

winning by a nose

who's the fastest?  who's the smartest?  who's the best?  it doesn't even matter what we're talking about ... if liam's in the vicinity, he will be doing whatever it takes to claim the prize.  he has a competitive streak that we've been hoping for a while now would begin to wane, but so far, there's no end in sight.  he wants to win -- and if there's not a contest of some sort to be found, you can bet your bottom dollar that he's going to turn whatever he's doing into one.

take yesterday, for example, when my parents invited us over to their house to help trim their tree.  my dad opened up the box of ornaments and the kids peered in, eager to see the treasures inside.

well -- not quite.  susanna peered in, oohing and aahing at all the beautiful decorations.   by the time she'd extracted her first one, however, liam was making his third trip to the tree, bound and determined to hang the most.  at least a fourth of the ornaments he put up wound up falling to the floor (carpeted, thank goodness), since he'd done such a poor job in attaching them in his quest to be the fastest.  he felt it imperative to lap susanna twice in order to ensure a victory.

chris and i would exchange glances, so tired of this insatiable desire of his to win, win, win ... but knowing that anything we might say would fall on deaf ears.  i mentally made a note to ask santa to put a little more patience in liam's stocking this year.

after the final ornament was hung, my father asked the kids to get together and stand in front of their handiwork for a picture.  while he was waiting for the camera to turn on, liam took the opportunity to, um, use his finger to clean out his nostrils.  dad couldn't pass up the opportunity to rib him a little.  he joked, "hey liam -- pick a winner!"

true to form, liam immediately stepped forward and raised his hand in the air.  "ME!"

wordless wednesday

here is a 40-second musical treat, courtesy of susanna's preschool class of pilgrims.  hope you had a fantastic thanksgiving!

(and yes, it seems that our daughter believes that given the opportunity, true pilgrims would opt for cropped t-shirts that showcase their chubby tummies.  subdued, dark, long-sleeved blouses under their big white collars are apparently far too provincial.  she's so ahead of her time.)

it's all in the details

liam's memory is amazing.  well, partly amazing.  he can remember the most specific details of things that happened years ago, but for some strange reason, has a hard time remembering what we've asked him to do to get ready for bed.  (we'll find him sprawled on his bed, poring over some sports book, after we've clearly told him that he needed to put on his pajamas and brush his teeth.  "oh!" he'll look up at us with shock.  "i forgot!")

but in every other area, his mind is like a steel trap.  take yesterday, for example.  i was putting on make-up and he happened to be with me, chomping at the bit to leave so we could go to a friend's house.  to occupy him, i asked him if he had gotten the chance to read the shel silverstein book that i'd checked out for him at the library.  he confirmed that he had.  "what's it about?" i asked him.

he began to tell me the plot and the characters.  and this is where i confess of (yet another) bad habit i have as a mom: i don't always listen to every single word that comes out of my children's mouths.  they tend to wax poetic a bit in their recounting of events, and i will -- from time to time -- space out a bit.  i'm pretty adept at inserting, "hmm"s and "i see"s at the appropriate times, so that they really have no idea that i'm not giving them my undivided attention.  i get the gist, which is really all that matters, right?

i know i must be the only parent in the world who does this, so give me some credit for being honest. 

anyway, i was finishing up my mascara when liam began winding down the synopsis of the missing piece meets the big O.  but it wasn't until he uttered the last statement that i realized just how detailed he had been.

"... and then there were three blank pages at the end," he said.

so riddle me this, batman: just why, after five times of asking, can't the boy remember to put on his socks?

"s" is for ...

sweet.  silly.  sensitive.  sister.  i was in the carpool line to pick up susanna, brainstorming words that started with "s" for a photo album i was making for her.  i had a coupon for one of those books from shutterfly and had decided to use pictures from her portrait session back in september, and thought it would be neat to label the pages with words that started with "s" that described her.  but i needed a few more.

i pulled up to the front of the line, excited to see her.  but as she approached the car and climbed in with a frown on her face, i was reminded of how she's been the past week or so.

yep, i had another "s" word to use.  surly.

"hey honey!" i exclaimed, determined to remain upbeat, despite her foul attitude.  "how was your day?"

she just glared at me.  ooh -- another "s" word: scowling.  i was on a roll.

i don't know what's gotten into her recently, but whatever it is, i hope it leaves soon.  the girl has seriously turned into a total debbie downer.  "i don't want to go to ballet," she informs me.  "i don't like art class anymore," she declares.  "i don't want to wear the dark top that my teachers have requested i wear under my pilgrim costume and instead want to stand in front of the church in a cropped white t-shirt with my belly hanging out," she tells me.  (okay, she didn't actually say that.  but you know what they say about actions vs. words.)  she actually seems to enjoy being miserable, for no other reason than to just, well, be miserable.

but right when i was about to get on craigslist and offer her up for free in the pets section, she surprised us.  she decided she wanted to help around the house this weekend.  now, don't get me wrong -- she still wasn't back to her normal positive self -- but at least she was telling us there was something she actually wanted to do, instead of what she refused to do.

so, we agreeably put the girl to work.  it began on saturday morning, when she raced upstairs to put on some playclothes to help chris in the yard.  i saw her head out the front door and figured she might last for a minute or two, before getting bored and moving on to something more exciting.  but a half-hour later, i glanced outside to see her little head at the end of the driveway, holding a rake that was literally twice her size, with a determined gleam in her eye as she ever so slowly moved one big pile of leaves to the curb.   she stuck with the task until the bitter end -- and then asked chris if she could use the blower.  naturally, he obliged.

and she didn't stop there.  she came in and grabbed the broom from the laundry room so she could clear the steps to the deck.  later, she wanted the mop so she could clean the back porch.  when she saw chris chopping firewood in the back yard, she waltzed right on over and tried it herself.  (with, needless to say, a ton of supervision.  we might be violating child labor laws, but at least we're safe.)  and when most preschoolers might have had enough of the work and called it a day, she donned her apron and helped me cook tilapia for our sunday dinner, unloaded the kiddie cups from the dishwasher, and towel-dried the plastic bowls.  i know she was happy doing all of it, because for the first time in days, she grinned at me.   

i guess i could add slave to the "s" list, but it has such a negative connotation.  servant, perhaps?  thankfully, no matter what word i use, at least she's a smiling one.

wordless wednesday

the kids enjoyed their first-ever camping experience this past friday night.  they didn't go far for this inaugural event -- just to our back yard, in fact -- but they might as well have been deep in the wilderness hundreds of miles away, they were so excited.  i fully expected susanna to coming waltzing up the stairs to her bedroom by 10:00 p.m., but she's proving to be far less of a prisspot than her momma because she lasted the whole night.

i think chris has just begun what might be a long series of camp-outs with the kids.  and seeing as how i completely rearranged all of our closets and dressers while they were outdoors braving the elements, i'm thinking i might have this house in tip-top shape by the end of the next session.  a win-win situation, to be sure!

dining on a gourmet meal of hot dogs and macaroni and cheese, preceding their dessert of s'mores (of course) 

snuggling into their sleeping bags for storytime

 good morning!

is that a banana on your head, or are you just happy to see me?

if you have a preschool girl, chances are you're well-versed in Fancy Nancy.  for those of you who aren't familiar, fancy nancy is a children's literature series of more than thirty books, all centered around a little girl named nancy and her quest to make her ordinary life extraordinary.  ("extraordinary" would be a fancy nancy word, along with others like "wardrobe" and "iridiscent" and "fiasco".)  nancy is not only adorable teetering around in her boas and high heels and posh sunglasses, but along the way she actually teaches her readers some quite advanced (and fancy) vocabulary. 

so we were, as nancy would say, ecstatic to learn that the illustator of the fancy nancy series, robin preiss glasser, was going to visit our favorite independent bookstore in october.  i was told that ms. glasser was always a huge hit on her national book signing tours and was quite the entertainer.  susanna was encouraged to dress up in her fancy nancy finest and to arrive early for a good seat.

we had it on the calendar and were counting down the days ... but i wasn't sure what to do with liam.  i knew that chances were slim that any boy would be in the audience, and i felt like i could easily arrange a playdate for him while i took susanna.  i literally had my hand on my phone, ready to dial a friend to ask if he could come over, when i changed my mind.

susanna has attended probably 99% of liam's sports events ever since he started playing.  i'm talking individual sports, like swim lessons, golf outings, tennis clinics; and then the hundreds of practices and games  for his t-ball, indoor soccer, outdoor soccer, and basketball teams.  (not until i just typed that sentence did i realize how insanely involved in sports our son is.  whew.)   she tagged along with me twice a week for two years for his speech therapy sessions, she stayed in big church with us for every choir performance last year, and clapped along during his preschool singalongs and graduation.

and for his part, liam has been the involved older brother as well.  she's only played one organized sport, soccer (and i use the term "played" quite loosely; most of the time, she insisted on sitting on the sideline and playing with the water cooler) but he was there at her games whenever he didn't have a game of his own.  he helped transport her to ballet all last year and was the proudest sibling in the auditorium for her end-of-year recital.  when she aged into church choir this year, he couldn't wait to sit next to her during rehearsals and show her the ropes.

and this is how chris and i want it.  our children are polar opposites when it comes to interests and talents, and they will likely excel in vastly different areas as they grow and figure out where they want to focus their time.  liam is, obviously, extremely athletic, while susanna is already shining in art and music.  so it would be fairly easy for us to split up our time, carting one off in one direction and the other somewhere else, and not give them opportunities to share in their sibling's endeavors.  but for us, if we were to do that, i'm afraid we'd start to feel more like four individuals instead of a family.  i want liam to be there when susanna nails her first memorized piano performance piece, just as i want susanna to be there when liam hits his first home run.  i want them to celebrate each other's successes because they were there at the time and lived the moment -- and not later as we meet up at home and retell the story.

which is a ridiculously long backstory (sorry) of why i decided against dropping off liam at a friend's house while i took susanna to the fancy nancy book signing.  instead, we all three went -- susanna in her pink princess dress, with a flower headband in her hair, plastic high heels on her feet, and wand in her hand; liam, clutching the latest golf digest issue; and me.  susanna sashayed into the store and took a seat with her similarly-dressed friends in the front row, and hung on every word the illustrator said (who was, incidentally, decked out in a turquoise sequined gown and rhinestone tiara.)  liam sat next to me towards the back, trying to focus on his magazine but actually quite interested in what was going on. 

it wasn't until the end of the event that i knew i'd made the right decision.  after ms. glasser read the latest book in the series (fancy nancy and the fabulous fashion boutique), she showed the starstruck crowd how fancy nancy mastered the art of carrying herself like royalty.  she took a banana, perched it atop of her crowned head, and paraded up and down the aisles as she kept her back and neck perfectly still.  and as soon as she concluded her talk, dozens of bananas were passed around so the little girls could give it a whirl themselves.  

every little girl in that room immediately jumped at the chance -- except one.  susanna sat resolutely on the floor, uninterested in participating.  i have no idea why; our daughter has a stubborn streak in her that rears its ugly head from time to time, and i've given up trying to figure it out.  i knew not to press the issue, and instead began to gather our belongings so we could leave.

but all was not lost.  for when i turned around to tell liam we were ready to go, this is what i saw: 

yeah, i'm pretty sure i made the right decision. the experience would have been rather fruitless without him.

go take a hike

anyone who knows me knows that i'm not an outdoorswoman by any stretch of the imagination.  i love nature and marvel at God's creation and celebrate the plants and animals near me -- all through the window.  i will never go camping, so if our children ever have any hope of pitching a tent and sleeping under the stars, they better warm up to chris because i prefer to be snug in my bed with the heat on.

but, in an effort to compromise, i came up with the brilliant idea last weekend that we should take a family hike.  i actually enjoy walking through the woods every now and then, and as long as i'm not too far away from civilization, i knew we would have fun.  so chris did a little bit of research and printed out a map of a nearby park, and once we were dressed fairly warmly and in comfortable shoes, we set out for our adventure.

and what an adventure it turned out to be; one that i'm sure liam and susanna will be talking about for years to come.  it all started with the ill-fated decision to allow the kids to choose which trail we were going to take.  we'd started on what was basically a gravel road -- no cars allowed, but quite cleared and flat.   but liam felt like we should be doing something a bit more interesting, so at our first crossroads, he chose to take us left onto a path that was marked Loblolly Trail.

we consulted our map and surmised that it was about a two-mile walk.  it was 3:00 pm and the time had not yet changed, so we figured we'd be back at the car well before it started to get dark.  we took twists and turns, walked over bridges and over roots, stepped on rocks and climbed up hills.  (upon further scrutiny we learned that we were on one of the few trails labeled "moderate" instead of "easy".)  the kids LOVED it.  liam was the leader and susanna was the scout (not really quite sure the difference, but they relished their roles) and they always made sure we were following the blue squares nailed into the trees that guided us on our way.  "I SEE THE BLUE SQUARE!" they'd chime together.  we collected leaves and threw rocks into the creeks and talked about the animal sounds around us.

it was fun, for the first 45 minutes or so.  but then their little legs started to tire.  and soon, they started wondering how much longer we'd be walking.  shoot, i started wondering how much longer we'd be walking.  the map was of no help, and neither were the people we encountered coming from the other direction.  "are we close to the road?" liam would ask each one.  "oh, no, honey," they'd reply, "you've got a ways to go."  i tried to remain upbeat, telling the kids, "oh, i think we're almost there!", or, "it looks like the end is at the top of the hill!"  but after four or five times doing this, chris turned around and with gritted teeth requested that i knock it off.  seemed his patience was wearing as thin as the kids'.

we finally, FINALLY came to the end of the trail, which deposited us back on the gravel road where we'd begun three hours prior -- or so we thought.  we looked left.  we looked right.  we looked at the map.  and nothing looked familiar.  we asked a biker, and he gave us a quizzical look and basically told us that we were actually not where we had started at all. 

this is why i hate the outdoors, i thought.  dadgum nature.

the kids, at this point, were done.  they were exhausted, they were thirsty, and they were simply not interested in hiking any farther.  we assessed the situation and came up with two solutions: one, chris could turn around and retrace our steps for about a mile, find the car, and come pick us up.  or two, we could flag someone down in the parking area and hopefully catch a ride.  seemed that chris was also exhausted and thirsty and simply not interested in hiking any farther, because he chose option #2.

he approached a little gray VW that was leaving the parking lot and asked the driver to roll down her window.  she seemed a bit confused -- who wouldn't be, with a strange man flagging you down? -- so i joined him with the kids to show her that he was safe; simply a father whose family had gotten a little off course.  turned out that her confusion primarily rested on the fact that she was french and did not understand english all that well.  but she smiled, said that she would be happy to help us, and invited all four of us to pile in.  i could have kissed her.

she asked chris to use her GPS, and it turned out that we were so off course that the only way to get back was on the interstate.  so there we were, chris in the front seat and me with the kids in the back, and my imagination started running wild.  what have we gotten ourselves into?... we're essentially hitchhiking with this french woman named gayle we've known for all of two minutes in a rented car ... she obviously has no idea where she's going or how our highways work ... do the french even drive on the right side of the road?  oh thank goodness i think they do ... i'm in the back seat with my two children and no car seats ...  we're going to be rear-ended by someone because europeans do not know how to drive on american interstates and we're going to wind up on the side of the road and the paramedics will find us and the only person who has any sort of i.d. on her is gayle ... they're going to wonder who these other people are ... when will someone report us missing? ... and more importantly, what parents allow their 4- and 6-year olds to ride in the back of a compact car without any car seats? ...  it will make the newspapers and everyone we know will remark how horrible we are as parents and i just hope we have a chance to explain what happened because we're not normally this irresponsible and i will never, ever go hiking again.

needless to say, we survived.  we arrived back at our car, safe and sound, and profusely thanked that angel named gayle for the additional thirty minutes she spent ferrying us around raleigh on her saturday afternoon. we will go hiking again ... we'll just make absolutely sure we know where we're going next time around.

yeah, for that day, i'd have to say that hiking wasn't all that it was CRACKed up to be.   

(sorry, i just couldn't resist.)

wordless wednesday

here it is: the obligatory halloween photograph post.  a woefully lacking halloween post, however.  these are, literally, the only three pictures i took related to halloween 2010.   let me assure you ... we DID actually pick pumpkins (and not just stand in front of some.)  we DID carve them.  we DID attend parties.  we DID trick-or-treat.  liam DID come home, just like you will see susanna did, and count his loot.  we DID eat some lots and lots of candy.

but you'd never know any of that from the sad collection of photos i have of halloween 2010.  so you'll just have to take my word for it.

i laugh at myself sometimes ... a while ago, i did quite a bit of research on high-end digital SLR cameras.  seems everyone i know has one of those bad boys and they post these beautiful pictures on facebook that really capture their children so well.  gotta have me one of those! i thought.  but once i started really thinking about it, i just don't think i'm the photographing type.  almost every single picture i've ever shared on this blog was taken with my iphone.  i don't even value photography enough to remember to put my teeny tiny easy-to-carry digital camera in my purse.  so why in the sam hill would i need a $500 canon to lug around?

although i do have to say that if there were ever a time i could justify the expense, it would be after this halloween.  the grand total i spent on both of our children's costumes: $1.47.  (and that was for susanna's bandanna, which has now found a new purpose around super's neck.)

someone, please remind me next year to take some pictures.

 we picked four pumpkins this day.  trust me, they were pretty.

 the soccer player and the cowgirl, setting out for some trick-or-treat action

yes, my artistic child actually arranged her candy in concentric ovals

i sing a song ...

liam and susanna sing together in our church's All Angels choir, which is comprised of four-year olds and kindergartners who rehearse each wednesday night and have the privilege of singing in "big church" three or four times a year.  their first performance was this morning in honor of All Saints Day.

from where i was sitting, it's hard to see susanna (you might make her out on the far left with a periwinkle hairbow).  but liam is in the third row, smack dab in the middle.  he takes this job quite seriously and masters the words and belts out the tune. 

the choir director did ask me very kindly if i could encourage him to turn down his volume a bit.  when i brought it up, he told me, "i need to sing loudly so that even people in the back row can hear!" to which i responded, "well, yes, honey -- but remember that there are 35 other children helping you out."

i'm not quite sure the message sunk in; if you close your eyes and listen, the one voice trumping all others is our son -- who really can't carry a tune in a bucket.  still, to me there's nothing sweeter than a chorus of children's voices praising God, even if they're a bit out of tune.  enjoy!

wordless wednesday

the fair, the fair, the unforgettable fair / north carolina comes to life with the unforgettable fair! 

(if you grew up in the raleigh area in the 1980s, you totally remember that commercial.  if you didn't, well, you weren't missing much.)

we braved the record-breaking crowds last week and took the kids to the fair.  the weather was perfect, we found close free parking, saw a great magician, rode almost all the kiddie rides without having to wait in line, and inhaled some really unhealthy but delicious food.  and got in some really interesting people-watching to boot.

thankfully, susanna just made the height requirement for every ride they wanted to do

who says "glee" is just the name of a tv show?

 three of the fair food groups: cotton candy, ice cream, and funnel cakes

the only thing we didn't do: try the 1500-calorie krispy kreme doughnut burger.  we wanted to live to see the 2011 fair.

i'd like to buy a vowel

it's amazing what a little over two months of kindergarten will do for a kid.  where we've observed liam's largest gains has been in his writing.  he's never been a big fan of anything that requires fine motor skills, probably because he's never had great fine motor skills.  (one of those chicken-and-the-egg scenarios, i suppose.)  while susanna could sit at the table and draw for two hours straight, liam's never been inclined to sit still with a marker or crayon in his hand.  until now.  he's learned how to form all of his uppercase and lowercase letters, and loves to combine them into messages for us, or in labels on his pictures, or on a scoreboard to represent his imaginary basketball games he makes up in his head.

and a byproduct of all this writing is a newfound interest in spelling.  he'll often flip around letters ("beach" might look like "becah", and "light" might look like "lihgt") and will sometimes omit one completely, but he's getting a pretty good handle on how to create words. 

so while he was writing a short book report the other day for homework, he misspelled the word "him" by forgetting the "i" in the middle.  i launched into a quick lesson on vowels, and how every word in the english language requires a vowel.  (i figured that the 19 weird words in scrabble that do not might be a topic for another day.)

tonight, the four of us were in the car, and out of the blue, liam says, "i have a friend who does not have a vowel in his name."

(by the way, i have no idea why he's thinking about vowels on a saturday afternoon after spending four hours playing outside and on his way to a family party.  the kid is funny.)

"i'm not so sure about that," i said.  "remember that every word has to have at least one vowel."

"but i know someone who doesn't have a vowel!" he insisted.

he's probably talking about his friend ty, i thought.  i had only listed out a, e, i, o, and u in my earlier lesson; i hadn't expected to have to explain how that pesky "y" sometimes fits the bill as well.  so the teacher in me geared up for another grammar lesson.  "well, there's one letter that's kind of funny that we didn't talk about earlier.  it's the letter 'y'," i began.

he interrupted me.  "oh, his name doesn't have a 'y' in it.  and it doesn't have a vowel."

"honey, no matter what, i promise you that every name you've ever heard of has a vowel in it.  who are you talking about?"

"D.J."

wordless wednesday

susanna's often a nut to crack.  with most new experiences, she's very reticent; she'll often to cling to my legs as she assesses the situation and figures out what she wants to do.  whereas liam will jump in full steam ahead, she tends to tread carefully.

ironically, it's the times when i wish she would take her time and evaulate what's going on that she decides to throw caution to the wind and showcase her daredevil side.  she likes to keep us guessing, i suppose.

so on sunday, when we attended a friend's fifth birthday party at a local horse farm, i didn't know which susanna we'd see.  i prepared myself for the possibility that she would refuse to go anywhere near the horse and instead just sit on the sidelines and eat a few cupcakes.  but, true to form, she surprised me.  she insisted on being in the first group of riders (the four horses had to cycle through a few times) and did not give me a second glance as she held onto the saddle and trotted off into the woods with her guide.

oh, and she wanted to make sure that i pointed out the most important part of the pictures below: her new pink cowgirl boots.

 

see spot read

See Spot Read is a local program that connects therapy dogs with kids.  its website explains its mission:   

Numerous programs are springing up around the country that recognize the benefits of pairing children with certified therapy dogs to improve reading performance.

Literacy specialists acknowledge that children who are below their peers in reading skills are often intimidated by reading aloud in a group, have lower self-esteem, and view reading as a chore. Dog reading programs are based on the premise that children will find reading to an animal less intimidating than reading to their peers, parents or teachers.

Research with therapy animals indicates that children with low self-esteem are often more willing to interact with an animal than with another person. Being with the dog is relaxing and fun, and builds a positive association with reading activities. Instead of reading being a chore, it becomes something to look forward to when a dog is involved.

See Spot Read volunteers offer a program to Wake County libraries and other facilities that serve children where we bring therapy dogs to work with kids on building reading skills. We're also fostering positive interactions between children and dogs and have seen many kids overcome their shyness or fear of dogs.

now, liam obviously isn't below grade level in reading skills, but i knew he'd enjoy it for other reasons.  so this past sunday afternoon, he chose a book from his personal collection, and my mom and i took him to a local library to participate. he met freddie, a five-year old shepherd mix, plopped down on the floor right next to him, and opened up his book.  (he'd fittingly chosen his all-time favorite, The Best Pet of All, about a little boy who goes to great lengths to convince his mom that he needs a dog.)  and then he read the entire story to freddie.  

i'd be lying if i said that freddie was mesmerized from start to finish.  truth be told, he was facing the opposite direction for much of it.  but he was quiet and attentive, and his handler assured liam that freddie was definitely listening and soaking it all in. 

 

don't you love things like this?  when people see a need that exists among two groups, and come up with a solution that benefits both?  i would have never thought to pair up young readers with therapy dogs, but after seeing it in action, it makes total sense. 

 
as they say, every dog has its day.  and every little boy who has the privilege of reading to one, well, he has his day too.

pardon me

susanna sure knows how to take her time while eating. there are many explanations for the grazing-like behavior she exhibits at the kitchen table: she gets distracted; she talks too much; she chews slowly; she counts the bites on her plate.  and often it's that she really wants dessert but knows that she must try all of her food first, and she hopes that if she sits there for long enough, either i will be so senile in my old age that i'll just give her the bowl of ice cream she's craving, or i'll have to acknolwedge that in a battle of wills, she has the perseverance to outlast me any day of the week.  who knows.  but as much as i enjoy our weekday lunches together, after about thirty minutes i've hit my limit and will often vacate the room to tackle other projects.

last monday was one of those days.  i'd placed her plate in front of her at about 12:30, and had joined her as we talked about her morning at preschool.  by 1:00, i'd finished my sandwich, put all the food back in the fridge, cleaned the counters, and loaded the dishwasher.  and yet, there she sat, humming some song to herself without a care in the world.  so i told her i would be upstairs folding laundry.

ten more minutes went by, and as i put away the final pairs of socks in liam's drawer, i heard her voice at maximum volume wafting up the stairs.  "MOMMY!" she yelled, and then continued yelling something else that i couldn't make out.

i probably couldn't make it out because i was so focused on the sheer rudeness of my four-year old daughter.  since when does she think it's acceptable to scream at me from across the house? i wondered.  chris and i have always been serious about teaching our kids manners; i know we must seem like nazis to some people (i think my new york city cousin's jaw dropped the first time liam said "yes ma'am" to her) but that's just the way we've always done things.  most of it's just basic common courtesy, not only with adults but peers as well:  they don't interrupt a conversation unless it really can't wait, and only then with an "excuse me"; they reply with a "yes?" instead of "what?" when they hear their name; they say "please" and "thank you" without being prompted.  and right along with all the others i mentioned is the fact that polite people -- adults and children alike -- do not scream at each other.  if the person you're speaking to is out of earshot, well then you better get your little feet moving.

so i ignored her, figuring that if she got no response, she'd have no choice but to get out of her chair and find me.  instead, i heard it again, this time even louder.  "MOMMMMYYYYYY!"  and then, again, something i couldn't quite hear.

i bristled.  one more time, i thought.  i'll let her do it one more time before i react.  and then i heard her again.

i marched halfway down the stairs and said, "susanna, you know you are not supposed to yell.  i'm upstairs.  if you have something to say and i'm not nearby, you need to come find me and say it to me instead of screaming."

finally, it clicked.  i heard her push back her chair, climb up the stairs, and make her way down the hall.  when she approached me, i said, "well hello, susanna!  i'm so glad to see you.  now, what is it that is so important?"

"i needed to ask you something," she said.

"i see," i replied.  "and what is it, that you felt compelled to remain in your chair and yell?"

she smiled sweetly.  "may i please be excused?"