Birds

There are moments of unexpected perfection that, if you don't take time to slow down and look for, you may miss.

Consider.

It is the morning after Christmas. You could plunge back into the chaotic-ness of the everyday. Or you could sit with a cup of coffee and see this.

A cardinal, happily considering his breakfast.

Or his friend, some sort of woodpecker, taking his turn at the bird feeder.

If you left your post of relaxation and contemplation, you would miss these little guys who show up and search for what's fallen, uneaten and undiscovered.

Within moments, it seems, it's all over. Whether the birds are satiated or frightened by the appearance of a cat in their general vicinity is unclear. What is clear is that there isn't a feathered beast to be seen anywhere.

And to think it could be missed so easily and so quickly. 

Cookie Baking

Decorating cookies is more fun with friends, and I'll tell you why. First of all, you can get away with making one double batch of cookies and end up with multiple kinds of cookies since all participants contribute cookies. Second of all, it's just more fun because there is lots of laughing and chatting, both for kids and adults.

And, in my case, I get help from someone much more talented than I am. Here Erin is showing the girls how to carefully pipe the frosting on, as opposed to how I usually just slap it on.

See? Far prettier than anything I am able to do.

Forgotten Caroline didn't really get to decorate. Instead she walked around whining. To get her to be quiet the other kids kept sneaking her cookies. I think Caroline ate 6,720,000 sugar cookies this afternoon.

And speaking of sneaking sugar . . .

I am pretty sure Gus ate about eight pounds of icing. 

I think he would rather have had nine pounds.

Somehow, the cookies got frosted, and I think the kids did a really good job. Don't you?

Ornament Tour

Every year, going through Christmas ornaments and decorations is akin to strolling down Memory Lane.

That darling clay pig? Made for my mom by her cousin in Vermont when she was first married and on her own. It, along with its clay brethren, have hung on every childhood Christmas tree I ever had (not shown is also a duck among various other things, some of which now reside on Quantum Void's Christmas tree)).

Oh, this crystal unicorn. Every time I look at it I'm back in my childhood living room, staring at it longingly as it twinkled away ever so beautifully. I think I wanted to take it off the tree and play with it and pretend it was real. I think maybe I may have done that a time or two.

Miraculously, the unicorn survived. I now hear the same tenor of angst and desperation that my mother's voice must have contained when my children get too close to it.

The silver angel. This is the defining Christmas tree ornament of my childhood. It was sent to me upon my birth from a great-aunt on my mom's side and whenever we decorated my childhood tree I always had to do it near the end of decorating. The rational was saving it for the end would guarantee it would be on the outside, in one of the best spots, but I also think it was to amp up the anticipation of getting to the "good" ornaments (we all were forced to put up the ones no one thought were any fun, like balls, first).

Even though it was always my ornament, it hung on Mom and Bob's tree even after I was married and had my own tree. I always sort of hinted that maybe it was time for Mom to hand it over already, but I think she liked having those reminders of her kids around her, so I never pushed it. 

Almost every ornament on our tree has some story associated with it. It's no wonder putting up our Christmas tree is one of my favorite days of the year. 

An explanation of what happened to Caroline.

A lot of you saw this pathetically sad and ridiculously cute picture of Caroline on Facebook last night. You know, the one where she has a big white gauze pad loosely taped across her face that is, incidentally, covered in dried blood and boogers. The one with her standing in an exam room with a purple hospital gown?

Yeah, this one.

Look, I went for a lot of years with kids that never needed much more than a kiss and a Band-Aid to cure their little mishaps, but these little girls? What's up with all the stitches? I blame Joe. No, no; I know these things happen and you're shaking your head and saying, "But Cate, that's not fair! Kids have accidents!"

Hear me out.

Besides my two c-sections, I have never needed stitches in my life. As a kid I climbed trees. I played in an old dairy barn with lots of glass and nails and other laceration inducing devices lying about. And believe me, I fell. I cut myself. But I never had a cut deep enough or wide enough to require stitches. Joe, however, has needed stitches one hundred fifty kajillion times. At least. So, clearly, Elisabeth and Caroline have their dad's propensity to break their skin open. The evidence seems pretty conclusive, no?

Please continue to dwell on Joe's thin skin for a moment, will you? That will help you ignore my culpability in last night's ER visit. Thanks.

So, last night I was grabbing one quick thing from our attic. One quick thing! Yes, I knew I was taking a gamble. Yes, I knew Caroline was upstairs with me as I pulled down the attic stairs. I glanced at her, absorbed in one of the bedrooms with a stack of toys, and thought, wrongly, I could make it up and down before she noticed the attic ladder was down. I did not know Ellie was coming upstairs. Those attic stairs are a magnet for Ellie; upon arriving upstairs she immediately started climbing them. Caroline saw her sister and followed. She never made it past the third or fourth stair; I heard the girls and started back down. Too late; Ellie started climbing down and pushed past stepped over Caroline. Caroline fell. I saw it all happen as if it were in slow motion, trapped on the attic stairs, just a few feet away from my little baby.

I still don't know what she hit. She fell a couple of feet, maximum, onto carpet. I still don't think she scraped her head on the stairs. There was nothing on the floor.

Yet still, fall she did, and the total damage? A lot of tears, a fair amount of blood, two internal stitches and seven-- yes, seven!-- regular stitches.

She stopped crying just a few minutes after the injury. She was smiling, babbling and laughing for the entire twenty minute drive to Children's Hospital. She was entertained with all attention she received while waiting for her mending. She screamed bloody murder, however, during the stitching despite the topical application of some sort of numbing agent and a mild sedative. After she was happy and silly once again.

Still, though, I feel wretched. I know it was an accident but still. . . something about seeing the blood, the tears, the needle. . . I won't soon forgive myself. On the good side though, I won't dash up into the attic when the stairs are down anymore either. I accept a few days of guilt; I deserve it and it will make it easier on me to let it go when I forgive myself, which I know I will.

How much you want to bet that Caroline forever grumbles about the inevitable scar that she will work at covering for the rest of her life? *sigh*

Cool Storm

Crazy November storm. Heavy rain. Wind. Tornados. Warm temperatures. Snow in the forecast for tomorrow. 

Oh! And these really gorgeous pink clouds.

Caroline Walking

Fourteen months old. Walking. Sort of talking (though she refuses to perform on command, as you saw in the video).

Everything and Nothing

Here I sit in my kitchen with a glass of wine to my left while Clementi sonatinas play soothingly. Quietly. I hear the music and not the noise of my children. Their childish noises are content, not overly boisterous and not loud in any sense. There is meatloaf in the oven, and it is just enough cooked that its aroma is starting to tickle my nose. Caroline intermittently crawls under my stool and then walks from the refrigerator to her favorite cabinet where she likes to pull out boxes of pasta and scatter the boxes across the floor. Along with the peaceful strains of Clementi I hear an occasional "uh-oh!" or "NO!" come out of my youngest's mouth.

Where have I been these past few weeks? Nowhere and everywhere. Busy and, yet, ordinary.

I have time. I have the will. And I have lots to say, but tonight I lack the ability to convey any of it. I want to share it all. And I want to share nothing.

So, back to Clementi-- and that meatloaf that, despite being a big blob of greasy meat, smells intensely appetizing.

Great Migrations

The National Geographic Channel's new miniseries premieres this Sunday evening. Our DVR is already set to record, and I am really looking forward to watching these with the older kids.

Election Ruminating

Just as I didn't want to post some pathetic, over-the-top entry about how the sky was crashing down around us the day following Barack Obama's election as President of the United States of America, I also didn't want to post immediately following this past Tuesday's election because I was too happy and excited about the results, and almost as annoying as whiney, over-the-top blog posts about election defeats, are the types of posts that are so celebratory that they shove the other side's losses in their face.

How can I not comment, though? For years I have been lamenting how the party I vote for the majority of the time has been losing its way on issues that matter most to me. But these Republicans-- Marco Rubio!, Scott Walker!, Ron Johnson!-- these people are free-market, small government conservatives. So many of our new elected officials are cut from the same cloth as Paul Ryan, and that is a good, good thing given our country's current economic woes.

I still don't know what to make of it all. How can a country vote for a president so much more liberal than the candidates they voted for the other night just two short years ago? Are our memories so short? Does President Obama differ that dramatically from candidate Obama in peoples' minds? Did President Obama overreach in his actions? Did different people vote on Tuesday than two years ago?

More locally, Wisconsin, a state that hasn't voted for a Republican for president since Ronald Reagan, I think, completely went Republican. It voted out a popular Democrat incumbent senator for an unknown entity. Our governor is now a Republican, along with both houses of our legislature. Our congressional delegation is now predominantly Republican.

I truly don't know what to make of it all.

Still, 1994 always remains in the forefront of my mind. Republicans were elected to reign in a president that was seen as governing more to the left than the rest of the nation. It didn't take long for those Republicans to lose their way and become part of the Beltway problem.

So, I am hopeful, but also realistic; voters have to continue to pay attention. Vigilantly.

Trick or Treat!

My witch, 

my S.W.A.T. member, 

my Tinkerbell, and

my Poky Little Puppy.

Each of the three kids is pictured next to the jack 'lantern that they carved (or, in Ellie's case, drew on the pumpkin, watched me carve, and then added those necessary touches, like hair, with marker).

Food

Lately I haven't felt too much like blogging. I'm still reading other people's blogs, but I haven't felt inspired to write much of anything.

I could blame being busy, but I really think it has more to do with the cooler weather moving in and the beginning of a new season. Saying good-bye to the dog days of sun and summer causes me to shift my food focus and allows me to appreciate things that, in the summer, I might not appreciate quite as much, like Erin's homemade, canned applesauce

and my homemade marinara, made with fresh summer tomatoes all the more.

It's a little early for seasonal affective disorder to hit, but I can still enjoy its cure of comfort food, no?

Hank Turns Eight

Today our little Hanker turns eight-years-old. I actually can sort of believe it; eight isn't so far of a jump from seven. He's getting older; that fact stares me in the face every day lately.

So, as it happens, he is now eight. The little bundle of smiles with a mop of silky, yellow hair atop his head is now a young boy, still full of smiles, but with hair that is darker and more coarse.

We recounted the harrowing (and long-winded on my part) tale of his birth this morning over breakfast; a birthday ritual.

Happy Birthday, Elisabeth!

This little stinker, still sitting right next to me chomping on her bagel with cream cheese, is five years old today.

Tonight, to celebrate, we will feast on tacos and cupcakes, all yet unmade.

But, right now, today is all about Ellie. Here she is, Ellie though the years. And, what's more, the story of the day we met the little booger.

Happy Birthday, sweet, sweet, Elisabeth Jane!

ETA: Merciful heavens, I just ran across this video of Elisabeth that was taken when she was about fifteen months old. The pajamas she's wearing are the same ones Caroline wore last night! Anyway, it's super, super cute.

The Big Picture

Wake. Get dressed. Referee fights. Cook. Clean up. Drive. Teach. Referee fights. Teach. Drive. Cook. Teach. Clean up. Referee fights. Teach. Laundry. Referee fights. Kick kids outside. Clean up. Sit down. Correct schoolwork. Plan dinner. Referee fights. Visit with friends outside. Cook. Clean up. Sit down. Fall asleep.

This is my day. Every day, the same, with little to no variation. It's enough to drive a person mad.

And yet, I would choose nothing else right now. As I have said before, I am not especially qualified to do this. My credentials are my faith in myself to learn when necessary and my love for my children that refuses to fail them. Home-schooling this particular batch of boogers is, by far, the most challenging job I have ever had. It is far more difficult than I ever imagined it might be. It is also far more rewarding.

So, the days blend together. There are standout moments, both good and bad ones, interspersed throughout the days. But, mostly, the days blur together in the sort of sameness that pushes so many home-schooling parents I talk to right up to the edge of insanity.

Fun-filled, personally fulfilling days, though, are not the goal, or at least they're not mine. The goal, for me, is intelligent, confident children who are interested in life and what it has to offer, are able to learn things on their own when those curiosities arise and are able to, intellectually, fulfill their vocational responsibilities, whatever they might be, when they're adults.

Yet, still, I could deal with fewer chances to play referee each day.

Rearranged Living Room

Wednesday afternoon Madeleine and I decided, on a whim, to rearrange our living room.

Some people find an arrangement they like and they stick with it. I get bored, and like change and so I rearrange furniture from time to time.

Here is is, our newly arranged living room. I am rather happy with how it all feels and looks.

Ah, sleep, sweet sleep

In their sleep, the children recharge and escape the monotony of their daily play and fun.

In their sleep, I gain peace and fortitude to endure for the remainder of their waking hours.

Sleep-- theirs, more than mine, is a gift, especially when it comes in the form of an unexpected nap.

Book Round Up, October 2010

Lots more reading going on here now that school has started. I'd still like to see Joe and me doing more reading in our free time, but painting and hanging drywall in the basement have been consuming our evenings of late, so not too terribly much reading has been happening.

Me

I must confess, I never did start The Last of the Mohicans. I meant to, but then I just wasn't in the mood anymore. Instead I got sidetracked by a few of these lovely biographies that I hadn't read before, and Thomas Jefferson, Abigail Adams (which I'm still reading, actually) and Ben Franklin kept me from Fenimore Cooper's book. Once was I was fully immersed in the Revolutionary War era, both in school with the kids and in reading, I officially took Mohicans off my to-be-read pile.

A couple years ago Joe and I watched the John Adams miniseries based on David McCullough's most excellent biography of America's second president. We loved it and, ever since, I've wanted to read the book. I feel like I barely have time to read it, but when I do squeeze in a few pages here and there I am loving it; it is wonderfully readable and I love all the snippets of Adams' own words interspersed. The only test might be finishing it before the library wants it back!

I am also reading Where the Mountain Meets the Moon, which Madeleine read last month and loved. I read a chapter here and there and, she was right; it's quite lovely and I can't imagine what little girl wouldn't enjoy the tale.

Madeleine

For school Madeleine is reading Born in the Year of Courage, which she is not crazy about. She just came off of reading Red Sand, Blue Sky by Cathy Applegate and she loved that and it's hard for a new book to measure up.

For pleasure reading, Madeleine, as usual, has an array of books going. She's been re-reading the Little House books again and she's reading Little Farm in the Ozarks, which is the series about Laura's daughter, Rose. I think this might be a first read for this particular book and she is, as I expected, tearing through and enjoying it. She's also been tearing through some of her old reliable series: Allie Finkle, Lemony Snicket, etc. Lastly, she discovered the Runaway Dolls series and she has been highly recommending them to her friends.

Hank

Hank has actually been reading, on his own and without complaining. He's gravitating towards things I would not choose for him, but he's reading-- for fun!-- so I'll keep my mouth shut. He loves the Geronimo Stilton books and Spiderman comic books. He's also a big Beverly Cleary fan and has just about wrapped up Ralph S. Mouse.

For school he's reading Vostaas: White Buffalo's Story of Plains Indian Life. He gives the book two thumbs down. "Moo-oooom! It's not even a story! It's just a bunch of facts."

Family

On an audiocassette, we have been listening to Ben and Me by Robert Lawson, which is the wonderful story of a mouse, Amos, who moves in with Ben Franklin. Think Thomas Jefferson wrote the Declaration of Independence? I bet his mouse friend, Red, might disagree...

Fellow home-schoolers, I can't rave enough about books on tape. It's so easy to find wonderful, classic stories that overlap with whatever period you're studying in history and they're such an enjoyable way to relax for twenty to thirty minutes every day, as a family.

I'm also still reading the Wizard of Oz aloud to the kids. We're averaging a pathetic chapter a week, maybe two, at best. Still, though, we are enjoying it when we do find time to read 

Elisabeth


Elisabeth-- er, Ellie-- always enjoys being read to. She has a stack of books she checked out from the library and her clear favorite that we have read, I think, no less than eight hundred and twelve times is Beatrix Potter's Fierce Bad Rabbit.

Joe


Joe also has struggled to find time to read and is still working through This is My Body, just like he was last month. He's been enjoying it immensely when he's hard time to dig into it but it's very heady book and it's taking him awhile to work through.

So, book suggestions! What are you all reading?

Ellie?!

From the get-go Joe and I agreed the name Elisabeth was a mouthful and assumed we would, at some point, agree on a shorter nickname. We discussed the various choices: Beth, Liz, Lizzie and Libby. Nothing stood out, so we tabled the discussion. Someday, we assumed, she would chose a nickname for herself.

Time went by. We grew accustomed to calling her Elisabeth, and thoughts of nicknames fell away from our thoughts; to us, she became Elisabeth, and Elisabeth only.

Lately Elisabeth has started naming all of her favorite stuffed animals Ellie. When she plays princesses she chooses the name Ellie for herself. All games of make believe have her choosing a new name for herself: Ellie. Ellie, Ellie, Ellie all the time.

It's fitting that she has found the only nickname I am aware of for Elisabeth that we never really considered.

Today in the midst of one of her games, I heard her, quite crossly, say to Madeleine, "STOP calling me Elisabeth! I don't like that name! Call me Ellie!"

I asked her if she really liked the name Ellie. She said she did, and that she preferred it to Elisabeth. I then asked her if she knew that Ellie really was a nickname for Elisabeth. She didn't but, man oh man, her eyes lit up like fireworks on Independence Day. "It is?" she asked incredulously.

I affirmed that it was and, that if she wished, she can tell people her name is Elisabeth but that she prefers to go by Ellie.

The question is, will any of us be able to make the switch?

Thirteen Months

We call this girl Trouble. It's hard to look at that angelic face and think that, but it's true; she, like most babies her age, is a whole heap of trouble.

Oh, no doubt, she's darling. And she's sweet, too; quick with a smile, a laugh or a hug.

She's close-ish to walking. She can stand now with no hands for short bursts of time, as seen above. But she's a class-A crawler and climber, even without knowing how to walk or stand confidently.

Still, though, boogers and all, she's too much cuteness for me to handle most days. I can't help but smile through my fatigue at her antics and troublemaking. 

Two more wedding pictures

Elisabeth was, without a doubt, the most meticulous flower girl ever. She was careful to make sure that each and every petal was properly placed and, so, at the end of her walk down the aisle she still had a basket full of flowers which, at the end, Diana helped her unload.