Adirondack Trip, Part 1

I was going to summarize our trip for my blog in one measly post but while going through my pictures I realized so much happened on our six day trip that surely I could milk our adventures for at least a few days.

First off, here's where we were. My mom's family has lived in that area for generations; ancestors of mine have been there at least since the mid-1800s. In the early 1920s my great-grandfather built a home for his wife and three daughters, the middle of whom was my grandmother on my mom's side. That house still stands and is still in the family. Going there is literally like stepping back in time; re-reading old letters, looking through eighty-year-old magazines and watching my kids play with some of the same toys their ancestors did.

Lots of excitement from Superdad and the kids (and me too!) even before the trip. One of the highlights, especially for little Hank, was the trip there. Even waiting at O'Hare, an awful experience for anyone over four, became an adventure.


The first few days were quiet. We had the house to ourselves and the boys busied themselves with household tasks. Superdad's favorite task was introducing Hank to the woodshed and teaching him to split wood.


We all climbed our first mountain on Thursday. The summit of Hadley Mountain, our chosen destination, is about 2,700 feet. A fun climb, and a great day.


On the top of Hadley Madeleine reminded me that she'd inquired not too long ago if there were any places left on earth were man's presence wasn't visible. I told her I was sure there were, but couldn't pinpoint just where.

Her answer? The top of Hadley!

Au Revoir!

Today we're off. By plane, this time, instead of car, which is our usual way. Assuming, of course, that the cog that is the Chicago Tollway allows us to reach O'Hare before our flight leaves.

Our destination?

Some hints:

We'll be sleeping in the house my great-grandfather built... the house is close to a famous horse race track... we'll see Sixty-five and various cousins while we're there...

Give up?

We'll be in upstate New York, near the Adirondack Mountains (in the foothills, actually).

More to share on our return, I'm sure.

Kids' Clothes

Convinced after having Madeleine that she would not be our only child, I dutifully packed away all her clothes that she had outgrown, lovingly washing them and labeling them in various boxes, dreamily envisioning another baby wearing some of my favorite ensembles.

And then Hank was born. The sea of pink clothes I'd so carefully saved for our next baby were pushed aside. Oh, sure, a few odds and ends were salvaged but, on the whole, Hank wore hand-me-downs from boy cousins and friends and, mostly, newly purchased boy clothes. Still a glutton for punishment, I also packed those carefully away once Hank outgrew them. Surely, I told myself if we have another child he or she will be able to wear someone's clothes.

And then we had Elisabeth. I lugged down boxes of baby clothes from our attic, sorted them into gender specific and gender neutral clothes, and patiently waited until my new little girl would fit into her big sister's outgrown clothes.

But it never worked out. Ever. Madeleine was born in August, Elisabeth in October. Madeleine was average to big for her age while Elisabeth has consistently been far behind on the growth charts. Clothes-wise, Elisabeth has always been a good four to six months behind her big sister and all my time, effort and, namely, storage space, has been utterly wasted over the past seven years.

And yet, instead of carting it all off to Goodwill, which is what I should have done, I washed, packed and lugged it all back up to my attic. Including, as you might guess, all the new clothes Elisabeth accumulated.

The moral of this tale, of course, is one I haven't adhered to yet and, that is: don't save all your baby clothes. My attic desperately hopes that one day I'll take this advice.

Cat Clean-up

I am not a girly-girl. As a child I remember playing with frogs, scaling trees and walking ridgepoles. I was tough. I was a tomboy.

And then something changed. Suddenly the mere appearance of a frog would send me zipping into the house for cover. Climbing a ladder more than halfway up would make me shake with fear if I dared look down. Still though, I was tougher than most of the Guess-wearing, frosted bang havers that made up the majority of my sex as a preteen.

And I'm still pretty much the same. I don't mind getting dirty. I appreciate camping because it allows me the freedom of not caring what I look like while we're there. I can still take a lump and I'll still dive to catch a line drive headed at me.

But don't ask me to clean up after our cats. Our cats, Maisy and Moppet, are prolific hunters. You name it, they've caught it: birds, mice, rabbits, chipmunks. My cats aren't lazy; they hunt and they hunt daily. The problem is that they don't eat what they kill. The gluttonous little princesses torture their prey, kill it and then leave the carcases all over my yard and driveway. Oh, you think it's gross just reading about it? Right now there are three dead mice in my driveway. Three. And they are, as you might imagine, repulsive, disgusting things to look at.

But I can't deal with them. I just can't. Instead I choose to park my car out by the road and bypass the rodent massacre displayed in my backyard.

Call me a girly-girl. Call me chicken. I don't care. Superdad's cleaning up after the cats.

Movie Review, IX

I feel so on top of things; I mean, really, seeing a movie less than a year after its release date. I am positively cutting edge!

After months and months (I initially had double digit wait list placement at the library), I finally got the call that Notes on a Scandal was in. The acting was incredible and the story engrossing, albeit sad. And did I mention the acting? I can't decide who was better: Cate Blanchett or Judi Dench.

Following is the trailer, just to pique your interest.

First Day of School, 2007

Hank is a frustrating boy for a crazed photographer like me. I mean, really, look at his face. Looks at the expression he's giving the camera. And this was the best picture he gave me yesterday morning. Most of them were more like this:

And Madeleine. Oh, Madeleine. If she spots a camera within one hundred yards of her, that teeth barring, is-this-over-yet-Mom? smile is all you're going to get.

So the pictures weren't so good.

But school. Oh, well school is another story.

Hank's biggest complaint about Junior Kindergarten was that it was over too soon (they only went for an hour today so, really, it was very short). So comfortable was he in his new surroundings that he was waving his hand violently within moments of arrival as his new teacher asked for volunteers to compete various classroom chores. She did say she'd choose someone who raised their hand nicely, but apparently Hank's arm-thrashing did the trick and he and his friend T___ (who he'd met and played with prior to today) were the chosen students. Generally, success on that front.

Madeleine had a great first day too. I started assembling materials last spring and a few weeks ago I put together some general lesson ideas for the first few weeks. I am awed how quickly Madeleine and I whizzed through them together this morning. Granted, I didn't have a terribly ambitious agenda today, but we were easily done by noon, leaving plenty of time for the park and Madeleine's highly coveted "alone time."

During our spelling lesson Madeleine got the surprise of her academic life. We were taking a practice test and the words were clearly just too easy for her and she spelled them all correctly, no problem. I told her I thought we should just skip that unit.

"What Mom? You mean just skip it? Like, without doing any of the work for it?"

"Yes, Madeleine, exactly that."

We ended up skipping five other units as well, much to her surprise and glee.

The best surprise, to me anyway, was that Madeleine wasn't in full-on meltdown mode by six p.m., a common occurrence when she was in school full time. So, success on the home schooling front too.

One day down, two hundred eighty-three days to go. But hey, who's counting?

Hank's Groove

This is just pure comedy. Pure comedy, I'm tellin' ya.

My kids, like most children across America, are obsessed with High School Musical. They've been beside themselves that their friends have all seen it five million times while they've only seen it once and that it's been almost a year since their first, and only, viewing.

The other night I rented it for them and all the block punks who then invaded my basement for an evening. As you might imagine, there was singing, dancing and a lot of laughing. Laughing? Why laughing, you ask?

Because of my dear Hank. Hank has mastered Roy's dance moves. (Yes, it's Roy, not Troy. Don't try arguing with Hank about it. You'll lose.) He's really got 'em down, I tell ya.

Check it out:

New Links

For those of you not paying as close attention to my sidebar as I do, let me highlight a few recently added websites that I think are worth paying a visit.

1. The Grammar Vandal. This blog is highly enjoyable. It's witty, interesting and educational. How can you top that? It has, however, made me incredibly self-conscious when composing my own blogs. Please, please, Grammar Vandal, don't examine my blog too closely; I'm certain there are mistakes aplenty!

2. Delocator. Enter your zip code and this website will help you find locally owned coffee shops, bookstores and movie theaters. Hey, I like Starbucks just as much as the next girl but I love my local coffee house more, and always like to encourage local entrepreneurs.

3. Mathematically Correct. Lots of essays and links relating to the "new, new math" used in many (most?) school districts across the country. This type of math curriculum, which our local public school uses, was probably the catalyst for encouraging us to investigate other schooling options which eventually led to our decision to home school.

Scavenger

Elisabeth doesn't like to eat what's put in front of her. She prefers to wait until everyone else is done and then pick from the remains of their plates. It would have served me well to remember that this morning.

Madeleine and Hank's breakfast request was toast with Nutella. Mid-breakfast the doorbell rang while I was in the basement doing some laundry. Madeleine and Hank decided the appearance of their friends meant breakfast was over, even if they hadn't finished, and with a quick yell down the basement stairs to alert me as to their whereabouts, they were outside in a flash.

Elisabeth pounced quickly. Like any good scavenger, she knew time was of the essence. Mommy would be back upstairs quickly. Move, move, move!

Success for her; a chocolaty hazelnut mess for me.

Back to School

Apparently Elisabeth doesn't want to be left out of the back to school mania taking place around here.

Yesterday Superdad, the kids and I headed over to the school to meet Hank's teacher for his upcoming year of Junior Kindergarten. We chatted with friends, shook hands with new faces and felt the excitement of newly sharpened pencils, fresh name tags and nervous soon-to-be students. The morning was, as it should have been, all about Hank. Well, and Madeleine too since she ran into her old teachers, gave and received hugs and played with her friends; but it's a given in our family that even if it's about someone else, it's really about Madeleine also.

After we got home I busied myself in the kitchen writing Hank's name on all his school supplies when suddenly I heard a foreign "whirring" sound. I was puzzled. Madeleine and Hank were outside, absorbed with the little squirts on the block and Elisabeth was quietly playing in... no, wait, she wasn't. There she was, sitting at the kids' art table in the living room, preparing for her future academic career by sharpening all the pencils in the cup on the kids' art table.


What subject should we start the eager student out with this year? Algebra?


Advanced trigonometry perhaps?



And please, ignore the fact that she needs to have her nose wiped. It's hard to be intelligent and beautiful.

Cooking, II

To follow up on my cooking post, I just wanted to share that I posted one of my silver bullet, kid-tested recipes over at Wisconsin Cooks. I love it, the kids love it; everyone's a winner!

Movie Review, VIII

Superhero movies is one category of movie that Superdad and I almost always both enjoy. They're, usually, fun and exciting and don't require much emotional or intellectual investment.

The other night we finally got around to watching Batman Begins and we both really enjoyed it. Out of all the Batman movies that have been released over the past ten, fifteen years, this was the best.

Cooking

I love cooking: the chopping, the dicing, the simmering. It's relaxing and the immediate rewards are obvious. Unless, of course you have kids. Then the rewards become more of a punishment.

"Moooo-OM, I hate chicken chili. Yuck!"

"Moooooo-om, why did you make that?!"

"I want to go to a restaurant; I hate what you made."

If I'm lucky enough to have cooked in relative peace or, as it's known in to me, being interrupted no more than fourteen times to settle disputes, get some toy down or provide a snack that they simply must have this instant because the poor little darling it staaaaarving, then I'm able to handle the complaints with relative cheer. I shrug my shoulders and savor the compilations on my own plate and ignore the theatrics across the table.

But then there's most days. Most days I'm hardly even able to cook with the kids running in and out and needing this and that. Most days my patience supply is dwindling by supper time and the complaints are actually very annoying.

"Moooo-om, this is the worst supper in the entire world."

"Oh really?" I my reply on those nights. "Good. I was trying my best to make something you'd really, really hate. I'm glad I succeeded. Eat it anyway."

This summer I've noticed I've been doing far less cooking than usual. I wonder if this is why.

Happy Birthday, Blog!

My blog is a year old today. Break out the confetti and noisemakers, folks!

School Registration, 2007

I don't know if any of you remember, but last year around this time the entire parental population of our local public school, including me, were wringing our hands about school registration and teacher assignments. I'm ashamed to admit it now, but I think that I even ran over to the school once the class lists were posted to take a picture of Madeleine's class list so that my obsession would be accurately fueled when all the other manic moms called me.

This year I feel like I've discovered the cure for high blood pressure: home schooling. Sure, that brings with it its own stress and obsessions, but they're different and, best yet, fall entirely within my own control.

Yes, I played the school registration game yesterday for Hank but my mindset was entirely different; I was really more of a benched, red-shirted player (he's only going into junior kindergarten for pity's sake). I just didn't care who his teacher was or who was in his class because I feel like making the decision to home school has empowered me, in a way. I now realize that it's OK-- no, good-- to challenge the assumptions of the experts because doing so actually causes you to challenge your own assumptions and the net result is knowing more about something than you did before, and I think this is true whether your child is home schooled, or taught in a public or private school.

My neighbors and friends are still calling about school registration, but they're calling either to celebrate their child's teacher assignment or to complain about it. I can hear the stress and the angst in their voices, the same stress and angst I remember lacing my own voice at this time last year. It's stress and angst that, I know, will dissipate in a week or so; probably it will correspond to mine increasing exponentially or, in other words, when I actually start home schooling instead of just talking about it.

Dry Basement

Our basement is dry. Seriously.

What cured it? Our plumber. Apparently the valve attached to the drain tiles was clogged, and probably has been the entire time we have owned our house.

What a stupid, easy thing to fix. And it only took us four years to finally figure it out. Still though, I feel immeasurable relief.

Hurray!

Incognito House Hunting

We love our house (recent basement post aside). Really, we do. Finally, after four years, it'a pretty much how we want it. It's smaller than we'd like, yes, but what it lacks in size it makes up for in location and neighbors.

That said, Superdad and I are always keeping our eyes open. We're constant visitors at various open houses and, even occasionally, have popped in a few tempting houses with a realtor friend of ours. If the right house came along I'm not quite sure what we'd do.

But don't tell our neighbors.

You see, every time someone has moved off the block for any reason other than a job relocation, they've been skewered. Sure it's all in good humor and fun, but people on my street house-hunt in secret. Including us.

Some good friends of ours down the street confessed to me yesterday morning in hushed tones while looking furtively up and down the street that they actually had considered moving twenty miles north of here. They then begged me not to tell anyone else. Today I'm going off with our realtor friend to look at an interesting house. What should I say if my neighbors see me getting into her car? Should I say we had a coffee date?

Flower Calendar

Some flowers arrived for me yesterday. Not in the traditional sense, but in pictures. What a bright spot in a dreary day.

I fell in love with the Smith and Hawken Flowers Calendar in 2006. The following year I test drove their Secret Garden Calendar and that, too, kept gorgeous, blooming flowers in my kitchen all year long.

And now I'm back to the Flowers Calendar. My favorite. Isn't it lovely?

Rain, Rain, Go AWAY!

And don't come back again. At least for a few weeks, anyway.

Rain here for the past two (three?) days. Various showers and storms the week prior. Rain forecast for the next three to four days. My psyche can't take much more wetness, and neither can my poor, wet basement.

UPDATE: Wonder of wonders, our plumber actually called me BACK! He even thinks he might-- might-- be able to come out today and unclog our main drain which is backing up all the drain tile and causing all the awful water all over our basement (where all my kids' toys, our TV, sofa and the kids' computer reside). Here's hoping!

UPDATE (this is soooo fascinating, isn't it?): Between the plumber and the drain tile guy, they finally flipped over whose domain we fell under. The plumber lost, but so did we because they didn't figure this out until well after 3 p.m. and I've yet to hear back from the plumber. *Sigh* Another day of rain and sopping wet rugs.

Oh well. C'est la vie, no?

No Electricity

I realized the other day how warped my poor children will probably be as adults. The day was rainy and the kids, especially Hank, were tired. I was off somewhere by myself and Superdad was ruling the roost. Madeleine and Hank were tired. Bored. Cranky.

Hank looked at Superdad, pleadingly and asked, "Dad, can I please use electricity?"

Yes, we allow our children to use lights, clocks, etc. but what the "no electricity" order means for the kids is no TV, no Nintendo, no computer and no Gameboy. It came into being one day when Hank was feeling especially dedicated and asked if he could watch TV. I said no. He asked if he could play video games. I said no. He then ran through every electronic thing he could possibly come up with until finally, in frustration, I said,"No, Hank, if it uses electricity you can't do it right now."

The order is in effect the vast majority of the time and it is only lifted on occasions deemed worthy enough by the adult in charge (it's been a week or two since they last broke the order or I'm having an especially bad or harried day).

But really, it's funny, isn't it? I chuckle every time I hear little Hanker ask in his sweetest, cutest little voice, "Mom, can I pleeeease use electricity? Please?!" Can you imagine my children explaining as adults how, in the year 2007, their cruel parents wouldn't let them use electricity?

Chess

Superdad and I recently started battling over a chessboard after not playing against each other or anyone else, for years. Decades, probably. The kids noticed our activity when it first began last winter but, out of the two older kids, only Hank was interested in learning and playing. Last night Madeleine decided she finally wanted to learn how to play. I don't know if she is really interested or simply sees it as a clever way to escape bedtime but, either way, I'm happy to have another person to engage in battle.

If anyone is interested, I ran across this quasi-interesting website when trying to pinpoint the origins of the currently used pieces.

Oh, and when Madeleine was picking up the chess pieces she said, "How come chess is so complicated?" Indeed.

Digital World

When I was growing up my mom had a large, black, rotary dial phone next to her bed in addition to the main phone the rest of us shared in our downstairs hallway. I thought that clunky old rotary phone was the cat's meow because you could use it while lying on a bed. I mean, really, how great was technology, right?

My children don't know what a rotary dial phone is. The only place they've seen one is at a museum. They know a world where cell phones and cordless phones rule. They know they can email me from Daddy's phone. Elisabeth has four discarded cell phones among her collection of very favorite toys.

When I was growing up pictures where taken on rolls of film that you had to wait days or weeks to have developed before you could actually see them. Unless, of course, you were lucky enough to have have a Polaroid camera (I wasn't) and then you could see your pictures instantly (or, after five minutes, which seemed instant at that time).

Anytime someone takes my children's picture they immediately run behind the photographer so they can see the photo on the camera's display screen. And the picture is always on ready display because nearly everyone has a digital camera. Including, now, my seven-year-old daughter-- and she knows how to use it ("Let's review the pictures now, Hank, OK? ")!

We've gained a lot as a society but, sometimes, I feel as if we've lost a lot also. Remember the days when if you weren't available at work whomever was trying to reach you would just leave a message with a co-worker? On paper? They wouldn't have a five alternate numbers to try before giving up or, as a last resort, be able to email you anytime, anywhere.

Even more incomprehensible these days, if you tried to reach someone at home and they weren't there you had to simply try back later and hope you reached them. Frustrating, sure, but wasn't life a bit calmer and simpler before having three different voice mails to check and analyzing a caller ID log? Wasn't it more relaxing when you weren't expected to be reached, and respond, instantly?

I can't talk, really. My family and I have bought into all the digital devices that are supposed to make our lives simpler. It's just that, at times, I wonder if they really do.

August Recap

What a bad, bad blogger I've been. Excuses? I have none. I'll be better now. I promise.

Following is a quick recap of this past month's highlights.

August 3: Madeleine's "friend" birthday party at Pump-it-Up. They call themselves the "inflatable party zone" and, really, I can' t think of a better way to describe it. Envision a huge gym with multiple things to jump on, slide on, etc. Madeleine has been begging to have her party there for two loooooong years. Finally, we consented. Lucky girl.


August 4: Madeleine's family party. Our "small" family parties have now grown to an attendance level of just under twenty. Madeleine requested BBQ ribs and sweet corn. I was happy to oblige, and hungry family was happy to eat.


August 5: The beginning of the bubonic plague. Uh, I mean, strep throat.

August 9: All three kids go down to Dad and Diana's house, antibiotics in hand. I spend the next day and a half filling up Dad's Land Rover (I still prefer the Volvo XC90) with unused books, toys and clothes, supplying Goodwill's merchandise for the next eight months, at least.

Yes, this is an actual, blog-able event. The kids' bedrooms and the basement are clean and organized. Definitely a notable event.

August 11: Superdad and I head up to St. Paul, Minnesota to see a dear family friend get married. The weekend was perfect in every possible way. We got to see my brother and good friends we'd not seen recently. The bride was lovely, as was the reception and a wonderful, relaxing time was had.


So that's it. Any and all exciting news. Regular, uneventful blogging will resume again shortly. I'll just bet you can't wait.

Sick

If you're wondering why I haven't been frequently posting, yet again, I have two words for you: strep throat. And no, no, it's not just me, it has infected Madeleine and Elisabeth too.

I had all these grand plans of sharing birthday stories and pictures and having Madeleine finish her thank-you notes, but about all I can cope with right now is comforting Elisabeth after she takes her amoxicillin and she realizes that one teaspoon is all she's going to get (what's in the infant amoxicillin anyway; is it laced with sugar? My kids loooove it).

So anyway. Bah. Humbug.

Back later.

Flashback: August 3, 2000

Today Madeleine is seven-years-old. Seven. I still can't quite wrap my brain around that fact that here I sit with a seven-year-old daughter. In some ways she still seems so young, and in others so mature; so, so mature that it's hard to remember that's she's only seven.

I've never been one of those women who has embraced pregnancy as if I were finally fulfilling a life-long physical dream. I mean, sure, I always wanted to be a mother, but I learned quickly while pregnant with Madeleine, and even faster with subsequent pregnancies, that the sickness, fatigue and general feelings of cowish-ness outweighed any enjoyment I might have experienced while pregnant.

I think as sort of a joke, or maybe as payback for not appreciating pregnancy enough, God has given me the gift of longer than average pregnancies, each one extending longer than the last. Madeleine, as you might then guess, was the shortest of my pregnancies. She was born only five days past my due date.

I remember the day clearly. Labor began, as they often do, the afternoon of the day prior to her birth. I didn't realize that's what it was at the time, of course; I attributed the contractions to more Braxton-Hicks, or warm-up, contractions. Other mothers who have been overdue will understand this: you reach a point in your pregnancy, well after your arbitrarily designated "due date," where you just sort of give up and figure pregnancy is a condition that will plague you for a lifetime. Silly, I know, but it's how you come to think and feel.

By early evening I was finally convinced that the contractions might really be the real thing. I panicked. I called Terri, my only friend who had ever experienced labor, and asked her opinion. She offered the only advice possible from a friend sitting on the other end of a phone line over sixty miles away, "Um, it could be labor."

It was. After multiple visits to the hospital, and enduring the embarrassing ordeal of being sent home by nurses because I wasn't far enough along in my labor to be at the hospital, the irritation of Superdad falling asleep while timing my contractions and the final exciting moments of knowing that, within minutes, I was to become a mother, Madeleine was born on Thursday, August 3 at 3:39 p.m.

With Madeleine we hadn't found out the sex; we wanted to be surprised. The moments following her birth were a blur: the realization I had a daughter, a mop of thick, brown hair, hearing our families in the hallway, not ten feet from our door, chomping at the bit to meet who, for some, was a first grandchild and who, for others, was the second.

At times I feel as if the following seven years have been just as much of a blur as the moments following her birth; some moments are clear and locked away in my memory, undisturbed and perfect and others are difficult, if not impossible, to recall.

But one overriding thought exists: the past seven years have been much more beautiful, meaningful and, mostly, enjoyable, than they ever could have been without the gift of my sweet little Madeleine.

Happy birthday, Peanut!

Busy Week

Friday is Madeleine's birthday. She's having a friend party (Friday) and a family party (Saturday) this week.

My niece and nephew are here for the week as well.

I've got a lot of fun activities planned for the (five!) kids, but who knows how clean my house will be on Saturday when family descends. Or if they'll even be a birthday cake.

Needless to say, pretty sure I won't be blogging much.

Mrs. Frisby and the Rats of NIMH

I still remember reading this book as a child. It was assigned reading in sixth grade over our Christmas break. That was the year my family and I went to St. Barthélemy in the French West Indies. Beaches are, and always have been, one of my favorite reading spots. The warm sand and the hot sun are the most inviting combination to pleasurable reading that I can imagine. I felt that way when I was twelve, just as I do today, and I easily recall reading this book while hearing the ocean waves crashing just a few feet away. Mostly though, I recall loving this book.

Imagine my delight when Madeleine and Hank decided on this book for a family read. I'm not sure who looked forward to reading it the most: the kids or me, but it's safe to say we all loved it and all got swept up into the rats' lives, daring escapes and the plight of the industrious Mrs. Frisby and her sick son.

Madeleine and Hank won't remember reading Mrs. Frisby and the Rats of NIMH on the beach, feeling the hot sun while Justin directed his rat friends out of Nimh or hearing the tumbling surf as the Frisbys' cinder block home was moved, but they will recall (I hope!) lying in our living room on Major Book Nights, munching on popcorn and discussing, after the reading of the book's final pages, who the two rats left behind could have possibly been.

Welcome, Delaney!

Some dear friends of ours recently had their first baby, a sweet little girl who they named Delaney. Isn't she cute?


After Delaney was born Superdad and I gave her tired, new parents about, oh, say, 2.7 seconds by themselves after arriving home before descending to meet our new Goddaughter. She has the most smooth, soft wrinkly little baby skin, sweet little baby grunts and that perfect baby smell that keeps women around the globe reproducing.

Our kids were delighted with her too. Madeleine spent eons staring at Delaney, pleading with her soulful eyes for Delaney to ask her mom if Madeleine could hold her just once. Since Delaney can't talk yet, Superdad had to intervene for shy Madeleine.


So, yeah, the kids were really delighted with Delaney. Hank just couldn't contain his excitement...


...for Delaney's dog, Lucky.

I'm not quite sure Hank ever even gazed at Delaney or tried to listen to one baby coo (who could hear over the barking?), but he did entertain Lucky for a time. How long? Oh, just the entire time we were there. Think the boy maybe wants a dog?

Sadly for my children, at one point Delaney needed to be whisked upstairs for a diaper change. However would they entertain themselves? Don't worry, the clever little terrors soon figured out a great game: pretending Elisabeth was a newborn and giving a test run to all of Delaney's new stuff.


Elisabeth thought it was a great game. Luckily for her, so did Delaney's super-relaxed parents.

Congratulations, Mike and Tarra; Delaney is super cute and I can't wait to see her again!

Teenagers

Madeleine has a new game she and her friends have been playing. It's called "Teenagers." What does one do when playing Teenagers? Well, let me quote Madeleine, "Oh, you know, lie around, read magazines, talk... you know, teenager stuff."

Oh.

How is it that she knows about teenager stuff? The oldest child on our block isn't quite ten. Are a love of loafing and self-indulgent introspection an innate knowledge that all children, born and pre-born, just have? Is it planted there as a beacon of hope for overworked, overplayed children? A glimpse of what's to come?

To make matters worse, my little girl, not even quite seven, is starting to look older. We found the hair clip she's wearing in the pictures below on the clearance shelf at Walgreen's and Madeleine just haaaaaaaad to have it to play dress-up (a nice, little girlish activity, certainly not one for little girls getting too big; too mature).

Little did I know her vision of dress-up with this hair extension clip-on thingy was really more of a hybrid of dress-up and playing teenagers: she puts on the hair clip, meets her friends outside and proceeds to strut around the neighborhood flipping her hair behind her shoulder at carefully timed intervals.

Sigh.

Happy Campers

Superdad and I talked to the happy campers last night. I think it's now safe to say that I miss them more than they miss me.

me: So, Hank, are you having fun?

Hank: (sounds distracted) Yep.

me: What have you been doing?

Hank: I don't know. Do you want to talk to Madeleine?

Madeleine: Hi, Mom.

me: Hi, sweetie! Are you having fun?

Madeleine: Yep.

me: Well, what have you been doing?

Madeleine: I don't know.

Our conversation, though longer than my conversation with Hank, yielded about the same amount of information. It was time for Superdad to take a turn querying the distracted campers.

Superdad: Hi, Madeleine! How are you?

Madeleine response somehow necessitates giving Hank the phone.

Superdad: Hi, Hank! How are you?

The conversation then ends. Superdad is left hanging only to hear Hank yell, "I want two hot dogs" and then Superdad can tell, by hearing Hank's voice in the distance, that he has set the phone down and walked away.

Punks.

Flashback: July 22, 2004

I've been combing through old emails and digital pictures lately in an attempt to organize my laptop. Probably a futile undertaking.

In any event, I came across the following picture, which was one of my mom's favorite pictures of herself. It was taken on a memorable trip to Washington in which she was treated to a private tour of the White House by a former senior staffer.


Can't you just hear her asking,"Yes, Ms. Thomas?"

Vacation, II

We're back from our too short vacation. Well, at least three of us are, anyway.

We had a fantastic time in (drum roll, please)... Door County! Really, I don't know why we all love it so much up there. I've grown so accustomed to our fall and winter birthday trips that I've fallen in love with the gorgeous views, the relaxed atmosphere and, of course, the swimming. We never have a bad time, we always seem to be successful at leaving any stressful thoughts or problems behind us when we get there and we never seem to run out of things to do.

This trip was no exception, but the only problem was I didn't really take many (or any) pictures. I'm quite certain, however, that the reverse would have been true had I had a new Nikon D40 in hand (hint, hint).

We rode horses, visited and toured a beautiful old lighthouse, swam (or course) grilled fabulously delicious bacon cheddar burgars, played a lot of cards and board games and made trips into a couple of the sweet little towns for ice cream and window shopping.

The only downers were leaving and, even more sad, dropping Madeleine and Hank off in Green Bay for a week (!) of camping with Super Grandpa, Super Grandma (Superdad's parents) and their cousins. Superdad, Elisabeth and I will join them on Friday (hopefully early Friday; again, hint, hint!)

It's good to be home though I don't quite know what I'm going to do with myself with only Elisabeth to occupy me for the week. Any ideas?

Vacation

I'm writing this in the lobby of one of my favorite places on earth; anyone have any guess where that could be...?

Next Big Hit

Madeleine has composed a new song which, I'm sure, will soon be playing on everyone's iPods. The title? It's so Annoying to have a Little Brother (who wants to share your toys).

Yes folks, be on the lookout; it's going to be a huge hit.

Web Browsers

I switched web browsers a year or more ago per the advice of Quantum Void, and have never looked back; Mozilla Firefox has just been that much better than Explorer.

Now my neighbor, a huge Apple guy, insists that I try out Safari and is adamant that I will love it and never want for another browser (until, of course, something greater is created).

So, I'm going to give it a whirl; a test drive if you will. What will I think of it? Any input?

Independence Day, II

Happy Dependence Day, everyone!

On our agenda today is a parade, a picnic, a festival and fireworks. Oh, and rain.

Good Friends

I'm lucky. I have some really great friends. But, like all friends, they all seem to be divided into groups: neighborhood friends, school friends, church friends. And, like most groups of friends, it's most common to see the friends most often who cross our paths in our daily lives so, for me, that's usually my neighborhood friends, school friends and church friends. They're the ones I run into at school, at the grocery store or in my front yard.

But another group of friends that I don't see quite as often is another group I hold very dear: my college friends. These are the friends who stood up in my wedding, and whose weddings I stood up in. The ones who knew me when I met Superdad (and took bets how long it would be before we'd break up, I'm sure!).

I was lucky enough to have breakfast with a few of them this past Saturday.


Aren't they cute? On the left is Kristine. I met Kristine on my very first day of college, at orientation. There was a third girl there, when we met, though I can't remember her name. We ended up assigned to the same dormitory and were fast friends.

Next to Kristine is Karen. I met Karen during my freshman year also, she was roommates with another good friend who was unable to be there on Saturday, but she and I really didn't get to know each other until our junior year when a large group of us rented a house together.

To the left of of Karen is me, obviously, and next to me is Carmela. Carmela and I also met freshman year and we did not like each other. At all. In fact, I remember being dismayed that all my friends liked her so well, and I know she felt that way about me also. After a year or so we got over it though and realized we dug each other. Now I think she's terrific and I'm not quite sure why it was we spent an entire year irritated with each other.

Poor Terri (oops T, your super-secret identity is busted!), my college roommate, couldn't be there, but somehow I don't think she minded too much since she's on vacation in Arizona right now and she looks like she's having a lovely time.

And Rachel, the sixth member of our group, was also traveling, but since she doesn't have a blog I can't direct you to where exactly she was, though she should have one because she travels a lot and goes to some really interesting places. But I'm sure they both missed us immensely and were just so bummed not to be able to leave their tropical locales and race right on back to Wisconsin, don't you think?

Independence Day

Ah yes, what a glorious holiday. Cook-outs, fireworks and celebration ensure and many of us take pause to reflect on our hard earned freedom and liberty.

Unless, of course, you're Hank.

This morning, en route to church, Hank began asking about what the 4th of July was about. Why do we have fireworks? How do the fireworks work? What's freedom? Is it really only four days away?

A short explanation followed. Very, very brief, but Superdad did a good job hitting all the major points. It's Independence Day, Hank, which just happens to fall on the 4th of July. We celebrate freedom from tyranny. We once were ruled without having any right to vote or decide how our country should be ruled. The Declaration of Independence was signed. Really, his explanation made more sense than this entry conveys.

Questions were shot at Superdad and me, coming at lightening speed, from the inquisition in the back seat.

Finally, a lull. A pause and some quiet. Time enough for Superdad and me to sit back. To relax.

And then, finally, from the back, the loud, confident voice of a four-year-old, certain of his newly acquired knowledge. "Happy Deeee-pendence Day, everyone!"

Yes, in advance, let me wish everyone, on behalf of my son, a very happy Dependence Day.

How Children Learn

Well, I did it. I finally finished a book by John Holt, one of the pioneers of the "unschooling" movement.

I pretty much knew what to expect going in. While engaged in my eager research of home schooling it's been next to impossible not to get a crash course on the theory of unschooling and its general tenets.

What I did not expect was to be moved or convinced.

The revised edition of How Children Learn ends thusly:

Gears, twigs, leaves, little children love the world. That is why they are so good at learning about it. For it is love, not tricks or techniques of thought, that lies at the heart of all true learning.

How can I disagree with a that premise that rings so true? Looking back over my lifetime and thinking about all the times I felt I was really learning something they all were subjects that interested me, that I was passionate about and, besides a few things in school that I can pinpoint, most happened outside of school and were propelled by nothing more than my own interest in learning more about them.

There's no way to fit everything in the book into one measly blog post and, frankly, I wouldn't want to because I fear I could do Holt little justice, nor did I agree with everything he said.

It's impossible for me, at this point, to fully comprehend how this book, along with The Well-Trained Mind, could both have such an impact on me when the ideas presented in both seem, on the surface, to conflict with one another. Yet, to me, somehow there seem to be a lot of truths in both and possibly our home schooling will lead us to some sort of hybrid of the two.

If I could recommend just two books to people interested in how a child thinks, learns and is taught (or should be taught) out of the numerous books I've devoured on home schooling and education this past year, at this point I would recommend this one and The Well-Trained Mind. Fascinating reading, both.

Hot Day

Yesterday was hot. With our broken central air and temperatures soaring into the nineties, I think I almost melted. All I wanted to do was go swimming and cool off. In what might be a first, however, the kids did not. They were throughly engaged with some of the neighborhood posse and preferred sprinklers and slip-n-slides to the pool.

First up, the slip-n-slide.


Well, except for Elisabeth who seemingly hates getting wet.

After a solid thirty minutes of playing, what do all young children seem to want? A snack, of course.

The grapes and pretzels revitalized the gang and even made the more keen observers of the group notice that the caterpillars they'd caught a while ago had all turned into chrysalises. That merited a neighborhood update, so throughly cool in their wet bathing suits, they're off, once again, oblivious to the heat.

Culver's Trip

A favorite summer haunt of ours is Culver's, sometimes for a meal, mostly just for ice cream. Its appeal, for us anyway, is that it's just a short bike ride away, and not through busy, noisy city streets, but along a well maintained, peaceful bike trail.

The other night was a Culver's night and, since Superdad was working, Diana was kind enough to ride in his place.

Here are Diana and the big kids upon arrival.


This past trip involved suffering through supper before getting to the main event: frozen custard! Clearly the excitement level rises.


Elisabeth not only discovered hot much more fun a dish of frozen custard is versus a grilled cheese, but also that she could feed it to herself.


Do you suppose it's possible to work of all the calories in a Culver's meal during a ten minute bike ride home? Don't answer that. I already am convinced the answer has to be yes.

Pool

This is a bad photograph of the local pool we joined this summer.


My children adore the pool and talk ceaselessly about their love for it. There are diving boards, big twisty water slides, zero depth entry, multiple depths for swimming and a large sand pit.

See how much the kids love it?


But wait... I have three kids, do I not? Where's the picture of Elisabeth joyfully splashing around in the water? Oh, here she is...


... in the sand pit. Elisabeth doesn't love the water so much. But she does love the extra-large sandbox and all it has to offer.

She loves to climb.


Success!


And meanwhile, back in the pool...


Yes, it's going to be a fun summer!

Relaxing Saturday Morning

Saturday is supposed to be relaxing, is it not?

It's certainly not supposed to begin with an 8:00 morning appointment with a heating and cooling company to discuss an aging furnace and a kaput central air unit. No, those are Monday morning appointments, not Saturday morning engagements.

Certainly on a serene, temperate Saturday morning the entryway to my home shouldn't look like this, should it?


Do you see what's all going on in the above picture? Can you see the chaos? The strategically placed shoe cubby is forgotten; neighborhood children, of which there are two in my home upstairs playing with Madeleine, have strewn flip-flops and roller blades (!!!) about my formerly tidy living room. There's laundry to fold and Elisabeth is helping herself to a box of cereal.

No, this does not feel like a peaceful Saturday morning. I should still be sipping coffee and lolling over the morning paper, shouldn't I?

First Sweet Corn

What bigger indicator of summer is there than fresh corn on the cob? Elisabeth enjoyed her first ear last night and it was definitely a hit!

Cold Mountain

Loved this book.

I have little to say by way of review, but I enjoyed it. I thought it well written and told a good story. What more can one ask for in a work of fiction?

Sizes

Have you all noticed how a size small doesn't seem to exist anymore in regards to pizza joints and coffee shops? If you want a small chances are they call it a medium. Or a large. Gosh forbid you actually want a large. If so, be prepared to order the super-deluxe large. Or the extra-extra large.

When did this begin? And why!?

Father's Day

Question: What makes for an almost perfect Father's Day?

Answer: A girls' afternoon out with shopping and coffee (Superdad and Hank stayed home to mow) and an evening spent at a serene Lake Michigan beach with a bucket of fried chicken. The shopping was nice, but the evening was perfect. Its only flaw (hence the modifier almost in the question) was finding ourselves without a camera to capture the perfect sunset and the happy, goofy children. We all came home covered in sand and exhausted from giggling and running.

I hope everyone else had a nice Father's Day! I know it's not about the kids or me, but I assure you Superdad had a great day, and the rest of us did too!

Atlas Shrugged

I finished this a few weeks ago and have been trying to narrow down exactly how I feel about it. It made an impression, certainly, and it sparked a lot of interesting discussions with Superdad while reading it, but it's hard to articulate exactly what I thought of the book.

Here they are, my random impressions and musings regarding a book which has helped shape many modern day conservatives' philosophies.

- The book was well written, entertaining and readable. I rarely felt bored or disengaged from the writing and that helped, in my opinion, not get in the way of the overall philosophy Rand was trying to illustrate.

- The characters were entirely one-dimensional. A good character was very, very good and a bad character very, very bad, with no middle ground. This didn't bother me though because the characters were merely props in a larger picture Rand was trying to paint. If the good characters had had flaws it would have, I believe, been harder to see the overall political message or, at the very least, it may have been harder to accept it.

- Rand's ideas are interesting, but also flawed. I agree with her in some respects (that government taxation and regulation ends up not only hurting those who it intends to hurt, which is those in positions of power and wealth, but also ends up detrimentally affecting those whom those very same regulations were intended to help) but I vehemently disagree with her in others (it would seem ideal, in theory, to hold reason without passion as an ideal, but when dealing with passionate, living beings we must, in my opinion, accept this as an impossible dream).

- I felt it was a very important book and I still find myself considering many of its premises, even weeks after reading its final page.

A Bottle of Java

Some people might say I get a little crazy in the morning before getting my first cup of coffee. Mowing down anyone who might dare to get in my way, I race down to my Black and Decker as quickly as humanly possible. And until I've had that first sip it's better just not to mess with me.

It's because of my coffee madness that I started giving Elisabeth a bottle of milk in the morning. Quiet! I would say to myself as Elisabeth chased me around the kitchen yelling, "Up, up, UP!!!!" You can't blame her, really, it's not like she understands about the importance of caffeine. So, I gave her a bottle once or twice. It made her happy and, more importantly, it made her quiet and content for ten minutes.

But now it appears genetics have taken over and Elisabeth has become somewhat, um, manic about the morning bottle. Gee, I wonder where she gets it from?

Do you see the bottle I've just poured up there? She wants it now, darn it! I feel your pain, Elisabeth. Brew, coffee, BREW!


This isn't funny, Mom! Stop taking my picture and give me the stinkin' bottle!

Ah, heaven. That first sip of coffee... er, I mean milk.


I may not be able to stomp my foot and cry like a one-and-a-half-year-old toddler, but sometimes I sure want to.

Movie Review, VII

After finishing Jane Austen's Persuasion in April I immediately logged onto my library's website and ordered a copy of the movie starring Amanda Root as Anne Elliot and Ciaran Hinds as Captain Wentworth. It took awhile for them to track down an available copy, but this past week they succeeded and I received my email from Library Elf informing me that my long awaited movie selection was finally available.

Last night Superdad joined me in a mid-week movie night and we settled in. I, for one, loved the adaptation. No, it's not eighteen million hours long, like the adaptation of Austen's Pride and Prejudice that I so dearly love, so it doesn't do the entire story justice and there were a few aspects that made more sense to Superdad once I told him a bit more of the back story (i.e. Lady Russell is much more one dimensional in the movie than she is in the book; one doesn't really get any sense of why Anne would respect her opinion as much as she does) but the movie was charming. Beautiful acting, lovely sets and scenery and a wonderfully told tale.

I'd advise reading the book first, but if you're not an Austen fan or just plain don't like reading, I still would recommend not skipping this movie.

Barnes and Noble: Summer Reading in the Magic Tree House

Here's a summer reading program I can get behind; it culminates in a free book! Here are the rules for Barnes and Noble's Summer Reading program:

1. Read eight books (of your own choosing).

2. Use a Summer in the Magic Tree House Reading Journal to track your reading.

3. Take your completed journal to a Barnes and Noble between May 29th and September 2nd, 2007.

4. You'll receive a coupon for a free book (there are some limitations, but it still sounds pretty good).

Madeleine is very excited and plans to win two free books (the maximum allowed).

First Grade Wrap-Up (almost)

The end of the school year is always so, so busy, and most of what Madeleine's class, and tangentially me, are busy with never seems really academic. That's acceptable though, since I'm a pretty laid back kinda gal. I'd rather they just be plain done with school two weeks earlier but, in place of that, I think the roller skating, various parties for this and that and trips to Dairy Queen seem reasonable.

I've been fortunate enough to be able to chaperon two field trips this month, volunteer at their class picnic, attend their class poetry party and walk along with the class to Dairy Queen. It's been busy, but it's been fun.

Some highlights follow.

First, Madeleine's class Poetry Party, featuring original compositions. Madeleine wants to compose her own post featuring her original poem though, so it won't be featured tonight since, as I write this, it's past the future Poet Laureate's bedtime.

The walk to Dairy Queen. Even messy Hank (see the ice cream all over his face?) and tired Elisabeth (she fell asleep in her stroller) got to tag along on this adventure. It was well over ninety degrees and humid the day Madeleine's class set forth and the ice cream seemed to begin melting before the first graders reached for the sticky cones from the Dairy Queen employee. However, after depleting Dairy Queen of its 2007 napkin supply, all was well.


We're almost there; the school year is almost over. They have today and Monday left, and then summer. It's been a fun year, but who doesn't look forward to lazy days of summer?

Trader Joe's Discoveries

Nothing is better than easy, delicious pre-made food, right? Dash on over to Wisconsin Cooks and revel in my latest Trader Joe's discoveries. I promise, you won't regret it.

Kite Flying

Last Friday the clouds were thick and black, burgeoning with rain. They were moving east, quickly towards our house, and the distant rumble of thunder was growing louder. At that time there were ten neighborhood children playing outside. After the first clap of thunder that number was reduced to three: Madeleine, Hank and their friend M______.

Most rational people hear thunder clapping in the distance and see an impending storm and they make their way to shelter, like seventy percent of the kids in our neighborhood did. What did Madeleine, Hank and M______ do? They went and got out their kites. Yes, kites, the very same instrument used by Benjamin Franklin to help show the link between lightening and electricity.

Following is a video of the three brainiacs "flying" their kites up and down the sidewalk in front of our house. It's too bad the sound quality is so bad because all you hear is my stupid, too loud laugh and not the impending doom of thunderstorm. Even though these three are oblivious to it, it's there, off in the distance, threatening to break free at any moment.

Financial Fitness

I hate to talk about money on my blog. I mean, what a boring topic, right?

But I saw an interesting article linked off of Yahoo! and I just wanted to share because it was something Superdad and I started doing, on our own, well over a year ago and it's made a huge difference how we save and spend money.

Here's the basic premise of the article (which is pulled from the article):

Step 1: Figure out how much cash you need to cover a week's worth of gas, groceries, entertainment, dinner on the town, breakfast at McDonald's, books, music CDs, cosmetics, gifts -- the whole gamut of casual expenses (Supermom aside: we do it a month at a time, but whatever) .

Step 2: Be honest. Don't deliberately overestimate so that you're sure to have enough cash to get through the week.

Step 3: Set the anticipated amount aside and don't use debit or credit cards.

Superdad and I started realizing at some point last year that it was absurd that we weren't saving more than we were. But why weren't we? We decided to switch to cash for all our expenses (groceries, diapers, gas, etc.) instead of our ATM cards and instantly, almost as if by magic, we were and are are able to save a lot more. Honestly, I don't even really know why.

Well, actually I think I might. Superdad and I are both absurdly miserly and it's a lot harder for us to spend cash when we know there's only a finite amount than it is to whip out a debit card which seems to have endless reserves when you're not staring at the balance every time you make a purchase. It's easier to be cheap at the grocery store when you realize you only have a set amount to spend that month. Or to put back oh-so-cute sundress for Elisabeth at Target when you realize your clothing allocation is running low. And you'll find it even easier to tell your spouse that they can't afford to go out for steak with the boys once again... oh, wait, that wasn't hard before. But at least now you'll have a fresh, new excuse instead of the tired (but true), "Honey, the kids are driving me crazy.".

Sorry, I know the article is not terribly interesting, but neither is balancing a checkbook or paying bills, but those activities are essential elements of remaining financially fit, so go read the article.

Chitty Chitty Bang Bang

We've discovered a new, fun activity that everyone in our family seems to love as much as our old, comfortable and much sought after major movie nights: major book nights (in case you're wondering, the addition of the modifier "major" to any of our activities simply refers to the presence of popcorn).

We've been reading Ian Fleming's Chitty Chitty Bang Bang as a family for a week or so now and last night we only had a few chapters left so we gathered every spare blanket, pillow and sleeping bag we could find, made a cozy nest in our living room and popped popcorn. We all settled in for an evening of adventure consisting of flying cars, gangsters and two brave children. And, to add to the ambiance of the evening, just as we all covered up and settled in we heard a loud crack of thunder and a storm made its way into Milwaukee throughout much of our major book night.


The book, if you haven't read it, is wonderful, and really lends itself to being read aloud. Both big kids thought it was a really exciting (and scary!) book and didn't really want it to end. Madeleine was disappointed, after it ended, to discover that Ian Fleming only wrote the one children's book (but, as the creator of 007, he wrote lots of adult books).

I'd highly recommend the book as a family read aloud since there are aspects that appeal to both boys and girls and Fleming's words seem to be created for a suspenseful, exciting story to hear, as well as read.

No Blog

I'll be gone today, all day, so no blog. On my agenda? A first grade roller skating field trip and picnic. Instead of blogging I'm upping my caffeine level so I can handle the day.

Have a nice weekend, everyone!