Nobody wanted mine...
I've thought a lot about that since.
It couldn't be the Laundry could it?
Your glamorous life for mine.
Tuesday, February 23, 2010
Wanna Trade?
On our 1st ever Wells Women Weekend, we played a little game that Jayne had created: Would you rather? One of the questions was, "Would you rather keep your own life or trade for___?
Nobody wanted mine...
I've thought a lot about that since.
It couldn't be the Laundry could it?
Your glamorous life for mine.
Nobody wanted mine...
I've thought a lot about that since.
It couldn't be the Laundry could it?
Your glamorous life for mine.
Monday, February 22, 2010
Awareness
My Abbie is observant. She notices when teachers are sad, when kids are mean to each other at school, and if it looks like she's being excluded from some kind of celebration somewhere (anywhere).
Abbie can be outspoken. She asks the sad teachers how they're doing, stands up for kids that have been labeled, and reports thoroughly and loudly to her parents if the child-to-fun ratio seems unjust.
Sat. night she attended a high school production of The Ark with Dad, Zach, Sam, and a friend. At it's completion she was ready to return and report. Before I could ask, "How was the play?" she started in, "We saw a very congestive public display of affection when we got in the car tonight."
Like any good mom I responded, "What were they doing in our car?"
She knows what I'm up to, but she's not about to be dissuaded from giving the full scoop. "No-- (she laughs with exasperation) I mean we got in the car, but we saw two teenagers kissing passionately outside of our car."
"Oh." (pause, then with a sly smile) "So how was the play?"
"Mo-o-o-m."
How can she expect to share any juicy gossip tidbits with a dud like that? She's run up against this kind response before. Just when she thinks she's going to deliver a hum-ding-er of a tattle-tale, she gets confronted with a thick, maternal, Brooklyn accent*, "So Whadid He say?"(from On The Town w/ Gene Kelly).
*This is not a tactic from the reputable Dr. Wells --it's one of my own, but I like it.
Abbie can be outspoken. She asks the sad teachers how they're doing, stands up for kids that have been labeled, and reports thoroughly and loudly to her parents if the child-to-fun ratio seems unjust.
Sat. night she attended a high school production of The Ark with Dad, Zach, Sam, and a friend. At it's completion she was ready to return and report. Before I could ask, "How was the play?" she started in, "We saw a very congestive public display of affection when we got in the car tonight."
Like any good mom I responded, "What were they doing in our car?"
She knows what I'm up to, but she's not about to be dissuaded from giving the full scoop. "No-- (she laughs with exasperation) I mean we got in the car, but we saw two teenagers kissing passionately outside of our car."
"Oh." (pause, then with a sly smile) "So how was the play?"
"Mo-o-o-m."
How can she expect to share any juicy gossip tidbits with a dud like that? She's run up against this kind response before. Just when she thinks she's going to deliver a hum-ding-er of a tattle-tale, she gets confronted with a thick, maternal, Brooklyn accent*, "So Whadid He say?"(from On The Town w/ Gene Kelly).
*This is not a tactic from the reputable Dr. Wells --it's one of my own, but I like it.
Friday, February 19, 2010
I'm Doubting You, Phil...
I'm just superstitious enough to need to know his verdict every year, but just rebellious enough to want to prove him wrong.
Perhaps it's because the sun hits Punxsatawney sooner than Lindon, but I swear Phil has seen his shadow every single year. And you know what that means...six more weeks of winter.
But the temperatures have been in the high 40s and we've had more rain than snow lately. I've had to convert back to using a purse, since my big black coat with all the pockets (where I like to keep my keys, cards, and phone) is just too heavy these days.
Yesterday, while on a walk with Schuyler, not only did we notice the tips of the tulips pushing up through the ground, but a shock of bright green grass coming up around the chicken coop.
And today, even though it's brisk and the snow stayed on the lawns, I saw smoke rising off a newly plowed field on my way to Parent-Teacher conference (for the 3rd time that day--good thing the school is close)). I think I "Ahhh-ed" aloud.
So Phil, your little prediction just isn't gonna keep me down this year.
Perhaps it's because the sun hits Punxsatawney sooner than Lindon, but I swear Phil has seen his shadow every single year. And you know what that means...six more weeks of winter.
But the temperatures have been in the high 40s and we've had more rain than snow lately. I've had to convert back to using a purse, since my big black coat with all the pockets (where I like to keep my keys, cards, and phone) is just too heavy these days.
Yesterday, while on a walk with Schuyler, not only did we notice the tips of the tulips pushing up through the ground, but a shock of bright green grass coming up around the chicken coop.
And today, even though it's brisk and the snow stayed on the lawns, I saw smoke rising off a newly plowed field on my way to Parent-Teacher conference (for the 3rd time that day--good thing the school is close)). I think I "Ahhh-ed" aloud.
So Phil, your little prediction just isn't gonna keep me down this year.
For Jayne.
Jayne loves to be warm.
Dear Jayne,
Spring and Summer are just around the corner.
You've got to click on this one--wish it could be poster size.
Happiness is basking in the Son.
Dear Jayne,
Spring and Summer are just around the corner.
You've got to click on this one--wish it could be poster size.
Happiness is basking in the Son.
Monday, February 8, 2010
Goin' Fishin'
Frankly, I have had some concerns about being the mother of three boys. Perhaps not all boys are challenging mischief-makers, but on occasion --mine have been.
They wrestle with Dad. They like to throw things. They "forget" parental instructions quickly.
They think camping is fun --anytime. They don't mind getting very sweaty. Boys.
Last weekend they were up well before the sun. They were off for a day of ice-fishing (all except the baby).
Don't you wish you were out there too?
Is this a true sport I wonder? I lack the vision for it's entertainment value, but my boys were giddy with anticipation. When at 6am Br. Marshall's knock was heard at the door, Sam made an amazingly graceful leap (much like an antelope or deer) from the entry to the porch --all the while giggling delightedly. They had a splendid time, and thankfully for me, caught nothing.
Fisherman Sam
Dr. Marshall with one of his awesome "toys"
Today I went fishing.
You see, I realized --too late-- that the reason Schuyler was so contented in the laundry room was because he'd made some mischief. In an effort to help him gain identity and industry, I have been finding ways for him to contribute to household chores. I don't know that it's a really super idea, but since I was a early childhood education major --I keep trying to be true to Jean Piaget and John Bowlby. When doing laundry I pull the stool up to the washer and let him pour in the soap. I hand him clothes and he puts them in for me. Then he makes a big mess as he fills his soapy lid to the brim and dumps some in the washer and most down his front.
We'd just started a load to wash. I emptied the dryer and took the armful into my room to sort. When I returned he'd climbed in the dryer.
Industry vs. Inferiority
Ahh --how cute. I laughed and smiled at him and told him how smart he was, and then noticed he'd removed the lint catcher. I looked for it and then glanced inside the slot where it should've been. Whoops, silly boy --he'd gathered the lint off of the screen thing and pushed it all back down in the slot. I tried to reach it with a pencil, and then saw something shiny further down. Oh no! He'd pushed three toothbrushes down there as well. I found a wire hanger and tried to fashion a hook. I spent an amazing amount of time trying to finagle the toothbrushes out with one hand, while shining a flashlight with the other. Ever anxious to offer his services, S. was determined to hold the light, and the whole episode ended with him in angry tears.
Mischievous Max
Much later, after all the boys were down, Star's steady hand was able to retrieve the last toothbrush. And I was able to finally dry two soggy loads.
some of the loot
It takes real patience to be a fisherman.
They wrestle with Dad. They like to throw things. They "forget" parental instructions quickly.
They think camping is fun --anytime. They don't mind getting very sweaty. Boys.
Last weekend they were up well before the sun. They were off for a day of ice-fishing (all except the baby).
Don't you wish you were out there too?
Is this a true sport I wonder? I lack the vision for it's entertainment value, but my boys were giddy with anticipation. When at 6am Br. Marshall's knock was heard at the door, Sam made an amazingly graceful leap (much like an antelope or deer) from the entry to the porch --all the while giggling delightedly. They had a splendid time, and thankfully for me, caught nothing.
Fisherman Sam
Dr. Marshall with one of his awesome "toys"
Today I went fishing.
You see, I realized --too late-- that the reason Schuyler was so contented in the laundry room was because he'd made some mischief. In an effort to help him gain identity and industry, I have been finding ways for him to contribute to household chores. I don't know that it's a really super idea, but since I was a early childhood education major --I keep trying to be true to Jean Piaget and John Bowlby. When doing laundry I pull the stool up to the washer and let him pour in the soap. I hand him clothes and he puts them in for me. Then he makes a big mess as he fills his soapy lid to the brim and dumps some in the washer and most down his front.
We'd just started a load to wash. I emptied the dryer and took the armful into my room to sort. When I returned he'd climbed in the dryer.
Industry vs. Inferiority
Ahh --how cute. I laughed and smiled at him and told him how smart he was, and then noticed he'd removed the lint catcher. I looked for it and then glanced inside the slot where it should've been. Whoops, silly boy --he'd gathered the lint off of the screen thing and pushed it all back down in the slot. I tried to reach it with a pencil, and then saw something shiny further down. Oh no! He'd pushed three toothbrushes down there as well. I found a wire hanger and tried to fashion a hook. I spent an amazing amount of time trying to finagle the toothbrushes out with one hand, while shining a flashlight with the other. Ever anxious to offer his services, S. was determined to hold the light, and the whole episode ended with him in angry tears.
Mischievous Max
Much later, after all the boys were down, Star's steady hand was able to retrieve the last toothbrush. And I was able to finally dry two soggy loads.
some of the loot
It takes real patience to be a fisherman.
Monday, February 1, 2010
Mistakes Were Made
NPR features a show called "This American Life." One of the episodes was entitled "Mistakes were Made."
It is a fitting title for our morning. Zach has a new elective he's crazy about: Healthy Living. He is called upon to demonstrate push-ups, sit-ups, and stretching techniques. The students are asked to keep a log of what they eat and when they sleep. Today was his day to bring a healthy snack. His Mom offered a veggie tray or a fruit tray, but Zach has become adept at cookie making and wanted to do some baking. She pulled out her Feed Your Kids Right cookbooks by Lendon Smith (unfortunately gathering more dust than it should) and Zach chose a muffin recipe.
He woke early (wanting them to be fresh) and set to work. The batter he displayed for approval didn't look like the right consistency for muffins. After studying the recipe and he realized that he'd only doubled the baking soda and salt, but nothing else. Also the oatmeal was supposed to be put through the blender first. Oh well.
He was trying to remix the stuff in between Dad's scripture study presentation (which not only went over poorly but also kept him from being ready when his ride came.) After the muffins were baked Mom allowed the baby to have one (they were mini-muffins and he was hungry). Then his Mother tried a bit of the stuff stuck to the pan. She said, laughing, "You might want to bring some honey butter or jam or --something" (not great for a fledgling cook's ego.)
She also suggested transferring the morsels into a basket, but he was eager to go and wanted to keep them in their pans. Three pans proved difficult to maneuver past the other Halls trying to grab backpacks, shoes, and coats. After wrestling Max-O into his coat, his mother turned around quickly, her shoulder bumping a whole tin of muffins out onto the garage floor. Poor Zach fled the scene. The children helped retrieve the muffins. Mother explained that it was simply like they'd been in the fridge for a minute, and that since the garage floor was so cold, the dirt couldn't stick. She nestled the muffins with plaid towels in a basket, put some butter and knives in a Tupperware and called to her oldest.
In the old van Mother danced and sang to Cyndi Lauper in an effort to lighten the mood. She signed bits of paper for make-shift Spanish logs, and wished them well. As Zach opened the door to step out, she said laughing, "did you do that on purpose?" "What?" he smiled back. And then she made some comment about his appearance. His face showed surprise and hurt.
What kind of mother does that? Shame on that mother. She knows better. She apologized several times. It was heartfelt, but she stewed all the way home.
Do you know that muffin-man? Pray for him today.
Mistakes were made.
It is a fitting title for our morning. Zach has a new elective he's crazy about: Healthy Living. He is called upon to demonstrate push-ups, sit-ups, and stretching techniques. The students are asked to keep a log of what they eat and when they sleep. Today was his day to bring a healthy snack. His Mom offered a veggie tray or a fruit tray, but Zach has become adept at cookie making and wanted to do some baking. She pulled out her Feed Your Kids Right cookbooks by Lendon Smith (unfortunately gathering more dust than it should) and Zach chose a muffin recipe.
He woke early (wanting them to be fresh) and set to work. The batter he displayed for approval didn't look like the right consistency for muffins. After studying the recipe and he realized that he'd only doubled the baking soda and salt, but nothing else. Also the oatmeal was supposed to be put through the blender first. Oh well.
He was trying to remix the stuff in between Dad's scripture study presentation (which not only went over poorly but also kept him from being ready when his ride came.) After the muffins were baked Mom allowed the baby to have one (they were mini-muffins and he was hungry). Then his Mother tried a bit of the stuff stuck to the pan. She said, laughing, "You might want to bring some honey butter or jam or --something" (not great for a fledgling cook's ego.)
She also suggested transferring the morsels into a basket, but he was eager to go and wanted to keep them in their pans. Three pans proved difficult to maneuver past the other Halls trying to grab backpacks, shoes, and coats. After wrestling Max-O into his coat, his mother turned around quickly, her shoulder bumping a whole tin of muffins out onto the garage floor. Poor Zach fled the scene. The children helped retrieve the muffins. Mother explained that it was simply like they'd been in the fridge for a minute, and that since the garage floor was so cold, the dirt couldn't stick. She nestled the muffins with plaid towels in a basket, put some butter and knives in a Tupperware and called to her oldest.
In the old van Mother danced and sang to Cyndi Lauper in an effort to lighten the mood. She signed bits of paper for make-shift Spanish logs, and wished them well. As Zach opened the door to step out, she said laughing, "did you do that on purpose?" "What?" he smiled back. And then she made some comment about his appearance. His face showed surprise and hurt.
What kind of mother does that? Shame on that mother. She knows better. She apologized several times. It was heartfelt, but she stewed all the way home.
Do you know that muffin-man? Pray for him today.
Mistakes were made.
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