Monthly Archives: May 2007

Family

Happy to Us

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Our eyes met across a crowded room, and he wondered why there was a middle-schooler at a college party.

And here I thought I looked so sophisticated in my awesome blue cowboy boots.

Ah, well. He upgraded his opinion of me soon enough, after we’d been cast opposite one another in the spring play, and he discovered I was smart enough to get all his jokes.

I’m pretty sure that’s what hooked him. Or it might have been the fact that I had a car, and it was a loooong walk to the comic book store in town.

Or the fact that I was as big a Lord of the Rings geek as he was.

Or my excellent crock-pot chili.

Whatever it was, I’m grateful for it.

Eighteen years later (thirteen since the wedding day), he’s still making me laugh. I drive a minivan now with two carseats and three boosters in the back, and he’s the guy putting the comic books in the stores. I still make a mean chili, although now it’s vegetarian because Mr. Meat-and-Potatoes gave up eating beef.

Last night we watched part of The Lord of the Rings, and he didn’t even mind when I got all goosebumpy over Aragorn.

Our eyes are still meeting across crowded rooms. Only now they’re crowded with our own offspring (who, let’s face it, make as much noise as a bunch of drunken college kids). I still haven’t managed to pull off "sophisticated," boots or no boots. He doesn’t seem to mind. There’s a look in his eyes that says he’d live it all over again, even the hard parts. Talk about goosebumps.

Man, can I pick ’em.

Habit Training

A Word Picture Is Worth a Thousand Words

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Sometimes I think all my real parenting successes have to do with hitting upon just the right metaphor to illustrate a concept. Patience, example, levelheadedness—forget it. All I’ve really got going for me is a knack for figurative language. But hey, if it works…

One image that has worked wonders here lately is the tipping cup. Years ago, I noticed something about toddlers. If a two-year-old is holding a cup of water, and it tips and begins to spill, the child—rather than righting the cup—will nearly always turn that cup right upside down and dump out the rest of the water. Which is why you only gave the child water, and not juice.

It struck me a certain type of temperament is prone to similar behavior when it comes to anger. I have a hot-tempered child whose natural tendency is to react to any slight upset with a full-fledged outpouring of wrath. If her cup of emotion tips, so to speak, her inclination is to just pour it all out.

So one day I talked to her about toddlers and tipping cups, and how our feelings can be like the water in the cup. She seized hold of the metaphor immediately. We talked about how part of growing up is learning how to straighten your cup back up after you’ve been jostled. You don’t have to let every little splash turn into a big flood.

This image has become a bit of code between us. I’ll see her beginning to lose her temper after something annoying happens. "Straighten your cup," I’ll murmur, and more and more often, she takes a breath, presses her lips together in grim determination—and keeps her temper in check. I’ve come to know the expression on her face that means she is struggling to hold her cup upright. She likes to cuddle up with me in the afternoons and talk about her triumphs.

"I didn’t tip my cup, Mommy," she’ll whisper. "I wanted to pour it all out, right on [insert sister’s name] head." A pause, a wicked chuckle, as she savors the image perhaps a bit too much. She knows there is acid in that cup. "But I didn’t."

And that’s what counts.

Math

Math-U-Blog

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Hey, did you know there’s a Math-U-See blog now?

Those pictures of the kids hugging their MUS books and cheering? Totally believable. No joke, my kids feel the exact same enthusiasm for Math-U-See. I finally broke down and ordered Rose a new Gamma workbook last week. I had planned on having her use the empty pages in Jane’s old one…there are six pages per lesson, and Jane usually only does two. I KNOW I unpacked that book after we moved in, but I can’t find it anywhere. How much do you want to bet it turns up sometime this week?

Anyway, when the UPS guy rang our bell yesterday, Rose went running to greet him, on the off chance the delivery was for her. She didn’t know her book was on the way; she just has high hopes for every package that arrives.

"Rats," she said gloomily, carrying in the package. "It’s not for me. It’s for YOU." Her tone was accusing and despondent, full of subtext: YOU, dear mother, get too many packages. YOU get all the good stuff.

"I think you are mistaken," I singsonged, after a glance at the return address. Rose stared at me blankly for a moment, then lit up. Gasped. Clasped her hands.

"Is it my Gamma book????" she shrieked. You could hear the multiple question marks. Also half a dozen exclamation points. She fairly snatched the package out of my hands and began struggling with the tape. Shoved it back my way, asked me to help rip it open. Snatched again the moment the first box flap broke free.

"IT IS!!!!!!!!!!!! MY GAMMA!!!!!!!!!!" Exclamation points were zinging around the room. I narrowly escaped being bashed in the face by one. Another one landed right beside the baby and I am pretty sure she ate it. She has been interjecting little excited yelps ever since.

This passion for MUS is the reason math studies have never been an issue around here. It’s a method and presentation that Jane and Rose really click with. Beanie is hounding me to "do Alpha." I’ll be interested to see, four or five years from now, what Wonderboy thinks of it. Assuming I can remember where I’ve put the darn books.

Books

Books, Books, Books

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Jennifer (hostess of today’s simply smashing The Loveliness of Gardens fair, for which, drat it, I forgot to write something) commented on my previous post:

I must laugh because your children are adorable, but I found myself
peering intently at the bookshelves behind them to see what gems you
have stashed there.

I too must laugh, because I almost cropped the bookcases out of that photo and then I thought, wait, I LOVE to peek at what books are on other people’s shelves, I should leave them there.

If you REALLY want to browse our shelves, Jane and I have been working on entering all our books at Library Thing. She reads off the titles and I type them in. This is a slow process. She may well be in college by the time I finish, and it’ll be Rilla calling out the books.

I’m tempted to buy one of those scanner doohickeys you can hook up to your computer. LibraryThing sells them for $15, I believe. Then again, it’s sort of fun talking over all the books with Jane.

Margaret Mary tagged me for a book meme the other day: "What books are you reading right now?" I’m almost embarrassed to answer…my books-in-progress pile is ridiculously large right now. Out of control.  I won’t even try to explain it; it just is what it is.

Fiction:

To Serve Them All My Days by R.F. Delderfield. Someone, and I heartily wish I could remember who, added this book to that list of 100 Books to Read Before You Die that was making the rounds a month or two ago. I’d never heard of it before and that this blogger thought so highly of it that she had to append it to the meme list piqued my interest and I tracked down a copy. It’s the story of a post-WWI young Englishman who takes a job teaching at a rural boys’ school. I am loving it. It’s like if James Herriot had been a teacher instead of a country vet.

Strangers and Sojourners by Michael D. O’Brien. I don’t know why I picked this one up now, when I’m in the middle of the meaty tome above. One night last week, I was just in the mood to revisit this lovely, thoughtful, deeply affecting epic. Now I find myself in agonies of indecision when a sliver of reading time comes my way. Which novel to pick up?

Gone-Away Lake by Elizabeth Enright, at Jane’s request. This is one of those books much beloved by her which I somehow missed reading.

Non-fiction:

Living Language: A Language Arts Curriculum by Donna Simmons. I’m reviewing this for my ongoing Waldorf series over at Lilting House.

Homemaking as a Social Art by  Veronika van Duin. Another little rabbit trail sparked by the Waldorf series. I have several books related to this theme—some old favorites like Holiness for Housewives and The Hidden Art of Housekeeping—and a few new ones that came my way. I’ll probably post on this theme later so nuff said for now.

Whoops—I hear a boy waking up from his nap, so I’m not going to get to finish this list now. I’m posting it anyway. Maybe I’ll update later. I should do another version, too, with the books I’m reading to the younguns.

Oh, wait, I forgot to tag people! Let’s see. How about Linda Fay, Christine, the other Christine, Faith, and  Gregory K.

Geography

Never in History Has It Been Easier to Learn About Geography

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There’s a new project underway here in the Lilting House, and Jane and I are very excited about it. I suppose it was natural that we should yearn for something fun to replace the happy hours we’ve been spending on the Journey North Mystery Class, now that (sob!) that project is over for another year. (Although Jane and her pal E. do plan to have one last hurrah with it, finishing off their graphs and discussing the big reveal.)

We’ve been hanging on the adventures-around-the-globe of our beloved friend Keri, who (thanks to a great wireless connection) was able to email us a long, juicy letter about her travels in China and is now in Tibet. Tibet! We flew over there on Google Earth, but she doesn’t show up on the satellite photos. Yet.

Keri’s voyage inspired us to look up a copy of early-20th-century traveler Richard Halliburton‘s book, The Royal Road to Romance. When it first arrived, we couldn’t resist jumping right to the Thailand chapter, since that’s where Keri was at the time. But this week we started it properly, from the beginning.

Halliburton is a funny guy, writing in a rather purple style to make fun of his own overblown romantic notions of adventure—and yet, though he mocks himself, he’s serious, too. For this young Princeton grad, the lands across the sea beckon with a siren song full of promise and mystery and adventure. His writing reminds me of L.M. Montgomery. By the time he and his college roommate finally land jobs as entry-level seamen (having first been forced to grow out their sharp Ivy League haircuts and lay hold of some scruffy clothes, salting their speech so as to pass for actual sailors—albeit with a "hire these kids" letter from the president of the shipping co in their pockets, just in case the disguise fails), the girls and I were hooked. This is going to be a mighty fun read.

And to pile on the fun, we discovered a nifty Google Maps feature that lets you plot a course on a map, with annotations. Thus our new project, the Romantic Journey of Richard Halliburton, a Work in Progress! Ain’t the internets swell?