Unhistoric Acts

today

Right now Becca and her friend are in the kitchen making banana nut muffins.

Either Jordan or Madison is playing the piano. I can't ever tell which of the two is playing...since they are both equally good. Oh, it's Madison. I heard her ask Becca what she was making.

I stopped by Wally world on the way home to get milk, butter, and both sandwich and snack size baggies. Do you know how difficult it is to put together a lunch without baggies? It is exceedingly difficult.

Parker just finished practicing the piano. I almost didn't even put him in lessons since he has never demonstrated even the most remote propensity toward music. He doesn't like to sing...not even as a toddler. But he's surprised the heck out of me. He's really quite good, and moving along quickly. And he says interesting things while he is practicing. Like today, for instance, as he worked through one piece (he's to play each piece four times, that's our deal) he broke off and came into the kitchen. Here's what he said, "Mom. That piece I was just playing...doesn't it sound just like a dragon fight? Like first one side is winning and then another? And then there is lots of fire?" After moving on to a different song ("Lightly Row") he came back. "Mom. I think this sounds like a song the girls are playing. It's feels like you are swimming underwater. And like something really happy is about to happen." That kid. I can envision him in about 7 years with longish hair and a guitar, and perhaps a vibrantly painted VW bus. He's making all of my hippie dreams come true.

I just read an e-mail that announced a graduate class that is forming for the Fall. Since I'm done with coursework this technically doesn't apply to me. And even though there is nothing I would rather do LESS than take another class right now, I had this out-of-body experience where I could feel my fingers moving to hit REPLY. I slapped my own hand, shook my head (hard), and wondered just WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME?

I drove the suburban to College Station today because I was carpooling with more people than LT can hold. After months of driving LT, I realized that the sub...it's much easier to drive. It's akin to the difference between driving a go-cart and a luxury vehicle. Still. I'm sticking' by LT. Cuz she's cheap and with all of that extra money I'm buying king-sized portions of chocolate doughnuts and Lee Press-On Nails.

That's it. Back to work.                                                                        

end of the semster...yes, still

I'm definitely getting to the point where my house is taking on a life of its own. Or, perhaps I should say the STUFF in my house is taking on a life of its own...and it's not pretty. Still, I can't divert my attention from school stuff for long enough to generate and execute Mission Get-My-Act-Together. Luckily, I know from past experience that this state of affairs is transitory. So, I'm rolling with it...for now.

I did want to record one funny thing Parker said. He's totally in awe of Sterling. He wants to dress like him, have 'boy's-night-out' all of the time, ride motorcycles...anything to be like his dad...which is super cute and endearing, and I keep telling Sterling to enjoy it, because it won't last forever. Anyway, for those of you who don't know this...Sterling has a cochlear implant, so at night, when he goes to bed (and removes the processor) he can't hear a dang thing. Nothing. Well, we've had a couple of humdinger nighttime thunderstorms lately. In the morning we all compare notes on how loud the thunder was and how brightly the lightening flashed. Parker, as usual, sleeps through all of it. Nothing wakes him up. So, the other morning, during just such a discussion, he said, "I'm just like my Dad. When I go to sleep my ears stop working. I'm just like my Dad, right Mom?"

"Yep. Just like your Dad."

the sun shined on me today...just a little

After a couple of sleepless nights I got my paper to a point where I could present it today. In class. The presentation went well and the prof told me after that he was extremely pleased with my work. [insert sigh of relief here.] Seriously, it's not that the professors in my program are stingy or withhold comment, but really...there's not a whole lot of opportunity for them to wax poetic. If you really think about it, waxing poetic is not a huge part of the U.S. educational system. We're more a 'good job' kind of group. So, you just never know if you totally suck...thereby spending the better part of five years...to be totally sucky. Today I'm not sucky. Tomorrow...it's a definite possibility.

Some other goodness...I've had a particular worry for some months now. I misread an important e-mail back in December. The e-mail said that we could order yearbooks after the Christmas break...they just wouldn't be personalized. At the time I thought "fine, I'll deal with it after Christmas." Except, I later realized that the e-mail was from the junior high and I had, indeed, missed the elementary school deadline. This is particularly tragic because Becca, being a 5th grader, really NEEDED a yearbook. It's her last year at the school. Its her inalienable right to have her friends write about BFF's and 2 COOL 2 B 4GOTTEN...stuff like that. And I want her to have that opportunity. But I screwed up.

Luckily, a good friend (Hi Jen!) knew of my sad plight and immediately alerted me to a form (also e-mailed amongst a zillion other forms) for EXTRA YEARBOOKS. The catch was they only had a limited number of extra books (30). I immediately printed out the form and determined to drive it to the school, along with my 40 bucks, at that very moment so I could be the first in line. But then I read further...they weren't even accepting the form until Thursday, and if you turned it in early THEY PUT YOUR FORM ON THE BOTTOM. Yes, it actually said that. It threatened me not to be early.

So, this morning I handed Becca the form and the check and warned her to take it directly to the office. Don't go to your classroom first, I told her. Don't stop at the bathroom. Don't chit chat with your friends. Move swiftly and directly from the bus to the front office. Hand in the form. I reminded her three times while still at home and twice more at the bus stop...just for good measure.

And when I got home from school today...Becca met me in the garage WITH A YEARBOOK.

And I silently thanked all of the forces of nature that combined to bring this VERY SPECIAL YEARBOOK to my little Becca. [Mostly I should just be thanking Jen who clued me in to the whole thing.]

So, while I am so tired I feel distinctly nauseous, it was a good day. In a few minutes, after I retrieve the last child from the last activity of the day I plan to lay on the couch, pry open the DVR, pull out all of the trashy tv that's been piling up, and spread it over my entire body like a warm blanket. And if all goes as planned, I'll be snoozing before it's time to fast forward through the first set of commercials.

i'm still alive...sorta

Posting time is minimal right now. I've procrastinated a certain paper that is to be presented on Thursday, so now I have to work double-time. I know...nothing new there.

Thanks to everyone who dropped by, called, baked cakes and cookies, sent gifts, and e-mails for my birthday on Sunday. You guys are the best (and I use the term 'you guys' in a giant, sending-good-vibes-to-the-universe kind of way). It was the perfect day. Church was low key, Sterling made dinner AND did the dishes AND made his famous carrot cake. The kids gave me the sweetest presents...sweet because they obviously thought long and hard about what I would like. [Pictures tomorrow or the next day of their birthday contributions.] Saturday night Sterling and I went out for sushi, picked out a few presents FOR ME, and just hung out...which was NICE. For some reason our weekend nights as of late have been devoted to kid shuttling, and so our dates have been limited for the past 6 weeks or so. He's a fun date...and lets me taste all of his food...which I really appreciate.

It feels like things are about to get frantic, so I'll try to blog (rather than eat) as my means of self-medicating. But, that might not work for a few days since my neighbor made me some rum cake (hi kirsten!). Those neighbors...always trying to get me liquored up in some form or another.

So. Tonight. Slavery....race & gender...Frederick Douglas...Harriet Beecher Stowe...WRITE.

I'd better get to it.

just thumbing through an old book and...

 
Maddie!!!!

Make your own fun photos at www.photofunia.com.

I also made Jordan a tatoo on David Beckham's belly. Pretty funny...but I didn't think the grandparents could handle it.

some fairly mediocre easter pictures...

I'm terrible at holiday photos. I just can't do it. I can document the prep, and sometimes the aftermath, but the moment of the holiday? No way. It's too intense. Our weekend was a little disjointed since the big girls were at Youth Conference all day Friday and Saturday. Parker and Becca even had to dye the eggs all by their little lonesomes.

I know this seems more like a picture of the kitchen than a picture of egg dying. But when I was looking through old pictures the other day I realized that I really enjoyed seeing pics of rooms in past houses. I need to do more of that. You too. Go take a picture of your kitchen right now. Then, in about 10 or 15 years we can all laugh at our bad taste. I'm thinking those light fixtures are going out of style in the next 20 minutes.

Being the health-nut that I am and all...I whipped up those little smokies smothered in crescent rolls for dinner. I also served fruit (not pictured). In other words, even though you can't see the fruit, I want credit for the fruit. The fruit offsets the fatty other stuff. Right?

The egg dying took place on Saturday. On Sunday morning we woke up bright and early and the kids examined the goods in their baskets. We also had our traditional egg hunt. This year the bunny put money in the eggs. I thought this would go over big with the older kids. Not so much. I  mean they liked it...but there weren't any screams of exultation or anything. Also not pictured...eggs benedict. We have this every year -- english muffins (toasted) with a slice of ham and the dyed eggs chopped up on top...then drizzled (heavily) with hollandaise. Yum. I broke my good, old-fashioned, starve-yourself diet for the eggs benedict. It was worth it.

After church we went to my moms for easter dinner. I brought the rolls and the Pollyanna cake -- this one is coconut. I also broke my good, old-fashioned, starve-yourself diet for the coconut cake. It was not worth it. The sugar gave me a headache.

This little girl was so happy with the candy inside of her eggs. After several pieces her mom took the bucket away. Little Miss O threw a fit of gargantuan proportions. She screamed and pumped her legs and then screamed some more. She wanted her EGGS. EGGS. She kept asking for her EGGS, all while screaming. Being the mother of a whole bevy of screamers, I find that the screaming fit is incredibly entertaining (possibly even satisfying) while sitting next to one's 14 year old daughter, who, luckily, is past her fit-throwing stage. Even with her tantrum, I would pick her up, sling her over my shoulder, and take her home in a second.

Here's Nate and Big Momma. Check out the bokeh in the background (the out-of-focus circles of light). Bokeh is a highly desireable photographic phenomenon. I'm not sure Nate is properly appreciating it.

Okay...so a lame picture...but it is the only one I have of Parker. I couldn't leave him under-represented. I'm the mom. It is my purpose in life to make things fair for my offspring. Here's me working on 'fair.'

I completely spaced taking pics of the kids before they changed out of their church clothes. I'm going to try to do a re-creation next Sunday. Only the girls would humor me and put BACK ON the old church clothes later in the evening. I didn't even try with Parker. That's called PICKING YOUR BATTLES.

Here we have a delightful spring ensemble. She picked it out herself. Dressing my kids is getting easier and easier. By next easter I should be able to hand her a credit card, the keys to the car, and I'll climb into my bed with an entire box of chocolate doughnuts while she forages for easter clothes. Wow. Isn't that a cozy little scene? I can't wait.

Okay, not so spring-y. But sophisticated, no?

Let's try it in black and white.

Can you believe that she detests her curls? I love them.

And here's my little (or not-so-little 5th grader). She's all growed up. But she still let me pick out her outfit...for which I am very grateful. Thanks Becca.

That's it. I'm currently slugging through an absolute deluge of end-of-the-semester work. Only three more weeks until SUMMER. Pray for me.

happy easter...

Happy Easter to all. I have to admit, Easter is a good holiday for me. Growing up...Easter was usually near my birthday. And what with Spring, and sunshine, and presents coming my way, I became rather attached to Easter. This year I did ABSOLUTELY nothing to bring the sweet breath of pinks and yellows and lime green grass into my home. No decorating of any sort occurred, sadly. However, I did manage to pick up some creamy, white tulips while at the store yesterday. I plunked those babies in a nice vase and sat them square in the middle of the kitchen table and called it good.

Easter morning was lovely, if rather subdued. Poor Parker was trying to whip the girls into a frenzy over the egg hunt, but teenage girls...after a weekend of socializing...are not liable to be whipped. They move their long bodies rather slowly. It's as if they are saying, "I'll take the goods (candy and money), but this is ALMOST too much effort for me." I was reminded of a picture of me at about 14...a picture taken outside, in my nightgown, after a sibling easter egg hunt. I have on a too-small pink nightgown and am holding a basket of eggs in one hand. My hair is mussed, my eyes are only half open, and I'm rather hunched over...kind of like an orangutan. I remember feeling too old for the hunt.

While over at my mom's for dinner I brought up the subject of the orangutan picture. I wanted to scan it in so we could laugh at me together. That's always fun, right? My mom and I brought out the tub o'pictures...but we couldn't find it. We'll need more time for a thorough search. But I did bring home a couple of beauties that I'll be sharing with you over the next week or so. (picture of me in my prom dress to come...).

As I mentioned earlier...my birthday is right around Easter time, and when I was nine (or maybe ten) I had a swim party with a gigantic bunny cake with REAL chocolate eggs.

Can you see those sandwiches in the background? Pimento and cheese? I still like pimento and cheese. But I can't have any...cuz it makes me fat. (As does 97% of food substances I might possible consider eating.) And yes, I'm bitter.

Here's another oldie...but goody (Please note that my hair looks EXACTLY like this right now. I may need to branch out):

This was in 1995, just a month or so after Madison was born. I made that dress for Jordan, and I remember buying those tiny white shoes at Striderite. I saw lots of young moms at church today with kids in hand-sewn Easter clothes. And I say, "Hats off to you." I still like to sew, but my girls are not exactly interested in what I could possibly produce. The Easter after this...in '96 (or '97), I embarked on my smocked dress era. Every year for Easter I would smock and sew Easter dresses for the girls. That first year I was up until two in the morning smocking and hemming. The next morning, when I turned my back for just a few minutes, Jordan managed to find a robin's egg and drooled a bright blue stain right down the middle of her pink smocking. I almost had a stroke. I whipped that dress off of her (while probably muttering some un-Christian-like words) and started scrubbing. It came out...mostly...and by dang if she didn't wear that dress.

And one last pic...not having to do with Easter...but really cute anyway...

I'm guessing this is about 1977. This is me and my brother, Helmut. How cute and 70s are we? Him with the sweater vest and corduroys...me with the patches and long, stringy hair. That delightful wooden bucket...with decorative brass accents. This was my Snoopy era. I got a Snoopy watch. And a big, stuffed Snoopy. I see the Snoopy era as my glory days. Since then it's been all work and responsibility, what with junior high looming in my not-too-distant future...you can see the doom in my eyes.

the hills are alive

Things are certainly greening up in Houston...despite the fact I've had to run the heater the past two nights. I'd leave it off completely and just burrow under a pile of quilts, but the young-uns, particularly Parker, are not prone to burrowing (being Southern bred and born,) and I worry about their delicate constitutions.

See my lovely plant? Begonia, right? I bought it and my mom planted it. She's into forced gardening, which is just fine with me. I need a little motivation, or my porch would be stark. And who's into stark porches? No one.

I handed back papers today. I always feel just a tiny bit bad on paper-handing-back day. Not that I'm stingy with the grades. If anything, I'm overly generous. I do hate crushing their teeny, little spirits. But sometimes they leave me no choice...like when it is painfully obvious that they  wrote the entire four page paper in 17.3 minutes (research included). I didn't have any weeping or wailing (in my presence), and that's always a good sign.

Did you ever think your college professors (technically, I'm an "instructor") sweated over handing grades back? I sure never did. Thought those people were machines of some sort...couldn't even imagine them eating human food. But it's true. I talk to lots and lots of these sorts of people, and nothing would make them happier than to have everyone succeed. But that doesn't happen. Do you know that it takes twice as long (maybe three times as long) to grade a D or F paper as an A paper? I don't like twice as long. Who has time for that? I certainly don't. I have an entire tv lineup that I missed last night on account of subpar papers. Dang.

Okay...off to read Poe and wrestle up some dinner for fam. School is off on Friday. Wahoo!!

sleepy sunday

Lots of reading on my end today. Sometimes reading keeps me awake...and sometimes it puts me right to sleep. I'm reading madly for my neo-Victorian directed study, and the novels are fascinating. I've just finished Lady's Maid and The Stone Diaries and am currently plodding my way through The Quincunx. I can offer high praise to the first two, but as I am only 50 pages into The Quincunx I'll have to withhold judgment at least a day or two.

I feel as if I've made great progress this weekend on some academic work, and for this I'm very happy. I seem to have come to some kind of semi-peaceful place with my studies, and I can't tell if this current emotional lull should be credited to my knowledge that coursework is almost finished, or if I've really finally learned how to do it (not sure precisely what "it" is). But despite my zen state at the moment, I do know that I'm so, so grateful for coursework to be completed.

See those tasty strawberries above? They are getting me thinking about summer and our need for a new grill. We actually needed a new grill last summer, but we nursed our old one through the last few months before it suffered an unseemly demise from "overabundance of rust." I'm thinking this might be just what we need.

weary

Right now, as I sit typing this post, Rebecca is working madly on the piano. You see, I have figured out the key to ardent practice for my third born. Her piano lessons are on Monday, and so I have gently suggested that if her assigned songs are not in shape come Friday after school...there will be no tv. And since our tv is turned off Monday through Thursday, to lose television on Fridays is indeed a dire circumstance. Several times this week I reminded her of my "suggestion." And she's such a good, sweet girl that each time I "suggested" she just patiently smiled and nodded her head. I wasn't sure if that meant, "Back off lady. I've got it covered." OR "I'm fairly certain you will forget this suggestion by Friday." Both are entirely possible.

Unfortunately, as of late I find myself having to tow the line with my younglings...having to follow through on promised threats or punishments, which I don't like to do. The whole point of a threat is to accomplish a desired end WITHOUT actual consequences. But, alas, every couple of months it seems the children want to test me, to see if I really will follow through. Sometimes I don't. But mostly, I feel like I have to. Even if it kills me.

Right now it's nigh to killing me.

Mostly because I'm off of sugar. I had told myself I wouldn't blog about this. My recent attempts to thwart sugar have been so ridiculously doomed to failure that I figure I should put my money where my mouth is (before I open my mouth). But the lack of sugar in my body, at this very moment, is about to pull me down into some deep, dark abyss. The sun is shining. The sky is blue. There is a delightful cool breeze blowing, and all I really want to do is crawl into my bed and pull the covers over my head. I've been sugar-free for several days now and I vacillate rapidly between okay, feeling good, and shaky to the bone. Right now...I'm shaky to the bone.

And irritable? I'm irritable to the moon and back.

Sugar has never been my friend. From that fateful morning in third grade when I passed out after eating two powdered doughnuts (a condition helped on its way by scorching hot rollers on my head), I've had a difficult relationship with sugar. In the wrong combinations and at the wrong times of day it makes me woozy, antsy, or downright nauseous. The only real way to get rid of these irritating symptoms is to go off sugar...and by this I mean even those substances that act as sugar in my body...so no white flour, pastas, etc.

I've done this once successfully. And since then it's been start and stop. Now I have a handy dandy med to try to combat all of the extra insulin my body is bent on producing...nearly two and a half times the normal amount. Of course, if I don't eat sugar, my body won't produce tidal waves of insulin and perhaps I could do away with the four horse pills a day I am currently choking down.

So, I'm working on the no sugar. Three days down. Usually I'm back to feeling normal after two weeks. Two weeks is a long, long time from where I'm sitting.

And the piano playing continues...