Treat or Treat

I took the kids to the "big church" here in our town. They had a Trunk or Treat night with games and free food. (The "trunk" part consisted of three cars with a little candy in the trunk.) Since the kids really wanted to wear costumes this year, but I'm not too crazy about the whole holiday, this seemed like a reasonable compromise.

They ate hot dogs, popcorn, and candy, and drank lemonade and some tongue-scalding cocoa. There were really a surprisingly small number of games/booths for the size of that church, but I'm not complaining. It was free and safe and open to the entire community.

Mim dressed up as Empress Theodora, wife of Justinian of the Byzantine Empire.

She was quite annoyed that no one commented on her costume. She hasn't learned that unless you're wearing a label or a very famous superhero costume, people don't really know who you are. I told her she should just say, "Hi. I'm Theodora." She wasn't interested in that solution. Next year I'll just make her a nametag with Byzantine decor.

Zaya wanted to be an IRS auditor.

 He's been planning this all year. Since he had a tag with his profession on it, people commented on his costume. He carried around a clipboard and asked people to write their names and incomes for last year. Oddly enough, no one was interested in writing down their actual incomes. We got a lot of "not enough" or "too little."

I dressed up too. Sort of. I'm an off-duty FBI agent. Okay, so maybe I just pulled a jacket out of the closet and got a pair of old sunglasses. It counts though, right? I'm holding the Book of Secrets, so I even had a prop.

Aaron dressed up as an introvert. That is, he stayed home and worked on his cement stuff out back. I've been married long enough that I didn't for a moment assume he would be going with us. Crowds of people and social situations are not his cup of tea. Or hot chocolate, as the case may be.

Back In My Day...

I am in the process of introducing our children's church kids to the delights of old-school flannel-graph. I tried the round-the-table Sunday school approach that they had been using, but it just didn't work for me.

They now sit in neat little rows. We sing songs like "Grow, Grow, Grow", "Jesus Loves Me", and "One Door and Only One." Oh, and we use the flannel-graph. So far the kids love it.

"Ms. Cari! Are we going to use the little pictures that stick on the boards again?"

"Yes, yes we are."

Are they learning more? I don't know. I haven't quizzed them. I do know they recognize backgrounds when I re-use them. I was using some great, borrowed CEF books, but there were too many pieces missing to go any longer with them, and I asked the church if they would consent to my finding a full set of flannel-graph. We now have a set that includes all the pieces for 128 Bible stories, 3 big backdrops, extra scenery, a disc of coloring and activity sheets, and a big book with all the stories.

So, what does that mean for my Saturdays for the foreseeable future? It means my scissors will be a little more dull, my back will ache a little more, and it means my bedroom will have things like this in it.

Those are scraps from a mere 3 of the ten-odd sheets of felt pieces.

Here is a small part of the set on my bed. (Yes, I have a lot of pillows. I realize this. Yes, my spouse complains.)

Here's the top page in one of the file boxes. As you can see, it's the Jesus page. Mim walked over there and said,

"Mom, do you think they're all talking to each other?"

If they are, it's probably to mention my bad cutting skills, but we know He's forgiving, so I'm sure it'll be alright. Besides, I'll go back around each piece in detail when it's time for each story. Really! I will! This is just for now!

It'll be a few weeks before I can get started using the new pieces, but I'm looking forward to it. It's amazing how much better behaved the children are when they have something bright and shiny to look at. I'd better be careful or Pastor Bill will be asking for them!

A Moment of Academia. Sort Of.

Here are my two children as defined by the exceptions to their normal rules. In general, Zaya doesn't read fiction, and Mim reads only fiction. However, they each have their own areas where they're willing to concede that the other might have merit.

Zaya is reading H.G. Wells's War of the Worlds, and explaining to me how the gravity and atmosphere of our planet would destroy the aliens.

Mim is reading Our Century in Pictures, published by Life magazine. If I'm in the room, she asks me about every other picture, and particularly any picture involving a dead body.

So, this might be a bit controversial, but it's one of those things that sort of happened. Zaya is a bit obsessed with alien races and there isn't a lot of information available in his science books on them. Mim loves to hear about the past, and what man has done to man.

My rationale (particularly for Mim) thus far has been as follows:

There are millions of children in this world for whom death is familiar and life-changing. There are children who suffered through the holocaust, the purges in Russia, the genocide of Rwanda...the list goes on and on. If those children can experience actual tragedy, and overcome, my child can handle hearing about it, and even seeing pictures. I believe she will be a stronger and more compassionate person for it.

If later therapy proves me wrong, so be it.

Poor Little Pony

Mim: Mom, I want a pony.

Me: That's not happening. (I believe in letting them down easily.) When you are old enough to own your own place, then you can get one. Not before.

Mim: No. I want one now, not when I'm grown.

Me: (raised eyebrow) Oh really.

Mim: Yes, because when I'm older I won't want to do this. I want to get a pony and spray paint it to look like Twilight Sparkle. (pictured above)

I argued that the fact that she won't want to do it when she's older and wiser should give her pause, but her only response was

"Do you want to paint a pony?"

"No"

"There. That's why I should do it now."

I don't think she gets it....or maybe I don't.

Take a Deep Breath

Mim and Zaya caught their first fall cold. Of course, this falls right at the time we go back home to visit family, which means snuggling with babies and great-grandparents and others who might be immune-compromised. My sincerest apologies to anyone that hugged my children and received Rhinovirus in return.

It also happens to coincide with our having run out of Singulair. This is one of the medicines Zaya takes every night so that his asthma doesn't flair up when he gets a cold. We ran out of Singulair because we've used all the refills, and I didn't realize that until I called the pharmacy the day he took his last pill. So yeah, it's mostly my fault.

 I called his doctor to get a re-fill, and he happened to be on vacation all last week. So I called again today, now that we're home from our trip, and it turns out our doctor isn't in on Tuesdays. Of course he isn't. It was ridiculous, really, for me to think he would be.

So Zaya has started his wheezing. We pull out the inhaler, and dig the nasty-tasting liquid steroids out of the cabinet, and I thank God, once again, that he gave the one with allergies and asthma the most laid-back, take-it-as-it-comes personality on the planet.

I'll Never Talk

I don't think anyone would say they love going to the dentist. Well, I should qualify that by saying I don't know any adults who would say that. My children still love going to the dentist. I think this is mostly due to the bag of cool dental hygiene supplies that they get when they're finished. Oh, and the fact that they haven't had any cavities, thus, no pain.

I get a bag of cool dental hygiene supplies as well, but it doesn't make up for the pain and humiliation of sitting in that ugly, brown chair in the first place.

Maybe I'm just in a bad mood because they found another cavity, but I think it's mostly because a woman whose ancestors may have been involved in the fall of Rome was cleaning my teeth. Now don't get me wrong, she's a sweet lady, I'm sure, but in what other part of our life is it OK to let people we don't know jab sharp metal objects into our gums? Nowhere. That's the answer.

Yet I found myself lying back on a plastic chair while my teeth were "cleaned", and my mind flashed back to the few super-spy torture scenes I've witnessed on the telly. You know the ones. The spy refuses to give information, so the evil and usually deformed henchman unrolls a set of dirty metal tools. (I don't know what happens after that because I close my eyes and hold my ears.)

 My particular interrogator was not deformed, in fact, I'm sure she was lovely and kind, but she hummed non-stop while she worked. I think it was supposed to be comforting, but remember that in my mind I'm James Bond being questioned by Dr. Death. The humming made it all one degree creepier.

And isn't it so much fun when they find that one little cavity, and then decide to dig around on it a while just to make sure? Again, think torturer. The woman enjoyed it, and no one will convince me otherwise.

At one point there were four different pieces of equipment in my mouth, plus the fingers of two dental hygenists. All I could think of was the Far Side cartoon pictured above. I started to laugh, and the ladies thought I was choking. They stopped for a second, looking confused, and I told them, "Ladies, there's only so much you can fit in there." They gave me a weird look I always get when I go out in public, and went right back to what they were doing.

I walked out with a forced smile, two reminder cards for a filling and my next cleaning, a mouth rinse made primarily from wheat-grass juice, and all the free loot I could grab on the way out of the office. Maybe it was petty, but I'm not going to let evil triumph. Maybe that 2013 pocket calender is really part of their plan for world domination. Maybe it was all worth it. Or maybe they were only getting started.

Project Improv

It turns out I sew the same way I cook. Which is to say, I compile tons of ideas and patterns and books, then I just make up my own things and completely ignore all the advice.

We made a cloak for our history project. It will have little Fleur-de-lis on it sometime in the near future. (Made with foam cut-outs and paint.) I have tons of instructions and patterns around for cloaks. I didn't use any of them. In fact, I didn't even iron the material or use any kind of measuring device at any point in the proceedings.

I realize one should not attempt to "eyeball it" until one has some degree of competence, but let's face it. If it's going to be a huge ordeal and take a lot of time and effort, it'll never get done. Instead, I bought a scrap of fabric and started making stuff up.

Zaya helped thread the tie through, and Mim sewed a few of the stitches.

I had her pose for this picture after we had started to clean-up, hence the lack of fabric and thread in the machine.

It won't stand up to close scrutiny by a professional, but it'll work for a couple of hyper, costume wearing kids who can't hold still for more than two minutes together. If it's always in motion, who's to know?

I'd like to say that I'll someday do everything just the way it should be done...but...I try not to lie. The most important thing is that it is actually finished, and the kids don't care if I evened up all the seams.

Monster Stomping

We had a little family game night here on Friday evening. We pulled out Munchkin, which was a Christmas gift of Art's last year. (Yes, some of the cards were removed and thrown away before the game commenced.)

Even though Zaya was wearing his Buckler of Swashing, and Art was sitting at level 9 for three or four rounds, it was Mim who was the first to level ten. This may have had something to do with my helping her defeat the final monster. (I gave her my Cotion of Ponfusion.)


What can I say? Mama doesn't like games that go on and on and on.... Besides, it was bath-time, and after bath-time comes bedtime, and when the children are sleeping I can officially congratulate myself on another day successfully completed.

My definition of success is that my family members are still alive and mostly unharmed, and nothing major in the house was destroyed. Keeping your expectations low is vital to keeping your sanity as a mommy. That's my theory anyway.

 Another free parenting tip - the kids can put whatever they want on their popcorn. Why not? I may think it sounds disgusting, but they enjoy the illusion of freedom, and no one is harmed. That is why Mim has a container of chili flavored lime-salt and a small bottle of pink cake sugar. Something that would be considered cruel and unusual in any civilized court of law can be exciting and delicious to a seven-year-old.

Living on the Edge

We went to Branson last weekend, and the kids (and I) experienced Silver Dollar City for the first time. Since they had never been to an amusement park before, it was a real toss up as to whether or not they would enjoy the rides. It turns out they were divided. One loved the roller coasters, one absolutely did not.

Here's your first clue as to which one is which.

The one hugging the rail and crying is the one who spent the day walking and window shopping with Mommy. The one sitting back with the big grin went on every roller coaster in the park. Some of them three and four times.

This is the face of a risk-taker.

This is not.

This ride is called Wildfire.

Art and Zaya rode it four times. Four times. Why? You'll have to ask them, because I wasn't even tempted to try it once. I don't see how pants-wetting terror is an enjoyable feeling, or can be labeled "fun", but apparently there are enough people who feel otherwise that it's worth it to the park to have quite a few roller coasters (and they're building another that the boys are excited about).

Mim and I had a great time as well, but our fun was just a little more peaceful and tummy-friendly. We bought gifts for Zaya and new cousin Edison, a few postcards for writing practice, candy from the sweet shop, and Mim did find a fun house that she loved. It made me dizzy, so by the end of the day she and Zaya (we had caught back up with the boys and she wanted to show it to him) went through it by themselves while I watched. Oh, and there was a river ride that was tame enough to tempt her, and received a two thumbs up from the little critic.

We definitely plan to go back someday, and this time we'll know from the beginning to split up and meet for lunch.

Ponyitis

Mim has suddenly developed an interest in My Little Pony. It's a little bit like a virus. Once the child is exposed to it, you discover whether or not they have an immunity. I believe she will recover, which means her system is strong, but she couldn't completely fight it away. I suppose letting her spend her money on a Pony (oh, and then buying her one for her birthday) didn't help. What can I say? "Mommy" is just another word for "enabler."


She has also started fixing hair. Not her own, mind you, because that would be fantastic and Mom would be thrilled. No, it's mostly the Ponies' hair that gets treatment. Usually it's brushed smooth and lovely, but she's discovered the wonders of hair spray as well.

At least she'll be prepared for a career in equine grooming if this whole homeschool thing doesn't work out. They'll have to be punk horses, though, because this child likes some bright colors.

A Day in Our Lives

We have no average days here in our home-school. By that, I am not referring to the emotional state of either teacher or pupils, but rather to the fact that I am allergic to routine. Like so many allergies, it is not something I wake up planning, but rather something that simply happens to me as I encounter the world on a moment by moment basis. I will give you yesterday as an example.

My ideal is to have school started by eight o' clock, but that usually varies by 15 to 30 minutes either side of eight. Yesterday we didn't get started until 8:45. I don't honestly remember why; it just didn't happen. I think I had one or the other of the kids doing their piano, and then they were playing nicely together and I just didn't have the heart to make them stop.

Once we finally got started, things moved along fairly quickly. I won't bore you with details of our lessons. If you want to know how and what we're doing, just ask me someday and I will ramble for hours, alternately whining, bragging, and generally making a nuisance of myself. Periodically, we would stop lessons for snacks or a little break, but we were all but done by lunch time.

I received a message from a friend of mine who lives a few miles out of town. She and her daughters were canning peaches and wanted to know if we'd like to be involved. Of course we would; so we fed Daddy lunch, then drove out to the S farm. The kids ran around outside with the youngest members of this large family, and we ladies stayed inside and canned peaches. So far this month I have also canned pizza sauce and applesauce with this family. They teach me to can and I give two of the older girls Spanish class. It's a great trade.

When we got home, the kids wanted to swim. Our local YMCA has a pool, but it's a little too cold for Mama. Luckily, Daddy can be easily bought by the big, pleading eyes of his seven-year-old daughter, so he took the kids to the Y for a swim. I took advantage of their absence to buy my groceries for the day. I don't have to tell any mother how nice it is to go buy groceries when the kids are not hanging on the sides, demanding the right to push the cart (even though it's so heavy that they are a public danger) and begging for everything in sight. Oh, and let's not forget the critique of whatever I choose to put in the cart and the apparently uncontrollable need to touch EVERYTHING.

I got home and was able to put my groceries away in complete peace. Ahhh. I started making supper, but the Salmon was still very frozen, so by the time everyone was ready to eat, the rice was done and had been for a bit, but the Salmon, while smelling wonderful, was a good thirty minutes away from completion. Instead, we had re-heated fish sticks with our rice. The Salmon became leftovers before it had really had a chance. I planned Salmon, we ended up with microwave fish sticks. I will not be one of those mothers whose kids brag about her cooking.

When supper was over, it was time to get ready for bed. After baths and teeth brushing we all sat down for devotions. We're working our way through the Chronicles of Narnia, and last night was the very last chapter of The Voyage of the Dawn Treader.

Some of the things we did yesterday are done more or less every day. Some of them happen only every great once in a while, or even never before. All that to say, every day is an adventure; today will be completely different, but just as fun, and I wouldn't trade it for anything in the world.

Sliding Through the Summer

This summer has actually been more busy than the school year thus far, and shows no sign of slowing. We've somehow filled our days, and I haven't even signed the kids up for swim lessons, which was something I'd been hoping to manage. We haven't even been swimming yet, actually.

Never fear, water has not been absent from our lives. Last year, Art was able to get some scrap material from work, and it has been worth its weight in plastic and whatever else is involved in its make-up. It's possibly one of the world's best slip 'n slide materials, and we have a yard that goes downhill in all directions. It's a match made in summertime heaven.

The slip 'n slide has seen much use from Mim and Zaya, neighborhood friends, cousins and homeschool friends. This kills large strips of the lawn, or would if Aaron didn't move it regularly, and adds quite a bit of water to the creek at the edge of our yard. It's all worth it, though. They get tons of exercise, and play for hours. Ahhh.

Year One Memoir - Prologue

Our first homeschool year is drawing to a close. It's going out with a whimper rather than a bang, since we're slowly dropping subjects as I consider them "finished". All that remains for Zaya is vocabulary and history. Mim lacks Math, Spelling and History. (Zaya finished his math book yesterday.)

 There's no way we're going to finish Mim's spelling book this year, so I think we'll just keep using it and play a little catch-up next year. I don't think it's one of those subjects where you can just skip around, not if the words are following basic phonics rules as hers do.

 Our history would be done if Mommy would remember to sit and read a chapter every afternoon like she should have. The trouble is that we get distracted and I think, "We'll read that tomorrow. My voice is tired." Of course, my voice will also be tired by afternoon tomorrow. I'm not the best at pattern recognition. Maybe we should do history first for this last week and a half.

 All that being said, I don't plan for us to completely drop the learning process at any point this summer, we're just moving to a different view of school for a few months. I've told the kids that they can each choose what they want to learn each day, so long as they choose something. We'll see where this takes us. So far the new Garfield typing game seems to be winning.

We've had a great year, and I've never regretted the decision to teach the kids at home for even a moment. (I'm sure those moments will come at some point, I'm just saying they didn't this year.) Part of that is my memories of how crazy the last few years were with them both attending the little Christian school in W'ville. It was/is a wonderful school, but with tuition, the commute, Mim's daily tears and Zaya's frustrations in class, it just didn't work for us.

I remind the kids when they get whiny sometimes, "If you were still in your old school, you would have five hours left before you would be at home, and you would've already been there for two hours. I don't want to hear it. Go finish that last paper." I'm mean that way.

I plan some sort of wrap up post in the future, but for now, this is just to say: We are here. We are almost done with school. The experiment has been (thus far) a success.

Mimsy Lou Retton

I thought she did very well. She forgot to salute the judge at the end, but did eventually. We'll see how long this keeps up. She's already tired of the twice a week practices, so I don't know that she'll be a gymnast for much longer. Wish there was an easy answer. Is the health and physical benefit worth the fight?

Outbreak

We've been doing a little experiment over the last couple weeks. Zaya got a bacteria growth kit for his birthday, and was very excited to begin collecting germs.
We prepared all our petri dishes first, which involved cooking up some germ-food. (Chicken stock and agar).

After letting them air dry...





We put them in the refrigerator to wait.



We collected germs around town while running errands. I even put them on my shopping list.



We sat them on the counter, and today I decided it was time to end the experiment. You can only have a stack of bacteria on your kitchen counter for so long before it starts to affect the family psyche. (They were under a towel, but I still knew they were there.)

The first six are about two weeks old, so some of those colonies (the creek water) have started to die away. Some, on the other hand, (the wal-mart cart handle) are still going disturbingly strong.


The last nine are just about a week old.

Here are the results. The picture first.




1. Spring Street park

2. Wal-mart cart handle

3. Door handle of the Wilkenson Drug Store

4. Coke puddle on McDonald's parking lot

5. Edge of McDonald's trashcan

6. McDonald's bathroom latch

7. Our backyard creek

8. Computer keyboard

9. Zaya's cough

10. Toilet ring

11. Fridge drain channel

12 Outside of raw egg shell

13. Miriam's finger trip

14. Washing machine ring

15. Top of soap bar in bathroom

As you can see from the picture, some of them were surprisingly germ-free. Notably the latch of the McDonald's bathroom stall, Zaya's cough, and the handle of the local pharmacy.

Some were distressingly active. i.e. the aforementioned Wal-mart cart handle, Mim's fingers, and the most surprising, which was the top of our soap bar in the bathroom. In fact, the germs that showed up on that one were different than any of the others. This was Safeguard soap, by the way, which is supposed to be anti-bacterial.



Another interesting thing to note...the large black germ colony from the Wal-mart cart handle looked exactly the colony from the toilet ring, and...wait for it...my computer keyboard. Yes, it is hard to type with sterile gloves on.

We have five petri dishes left, and plan to collect for those this week. I will not be sorry to be finished with this experiment.

Howard Carter They Ain't

We dyed eggs on Sunday and let the kids hunt them in the backyard. Officially, this made "Easter Egg Hunt" number 3, but since the first two were really just "Easter Egg Scoops" I don't count them. Sure, they bagged a ton of plastic eggs with little toys in them, but there was no hunting involved. It's really just a gigantic race to see which hyped up kids can cram the most eggs into their baskets. (The real pros all had Wal-mart sacks tied to their belt loops.)

Anyway, we decided that our children should experience the joy and frustration of racing against the clock to find actual hard-boiled eggs before the sun makes them inedible.

We discovered that they get their detective skills from their mother. Which is to say, all clues would have to be accompanied by big arrows and flashing lights.

Here we are, full of hope, heading out to conquer the world- or find fourteen eggs- whichever comes first.


Well, no Zaya. That's not an egg. Let's keep trying, Sweetie.




Mim needs a lollipop break. It's exhausting looking for eggs. It's been about three minutes at this point.




Hmmm. What could that be in the pot? A large ovoid flower?



Whoo. Still tired. Maybe if she sits on the basket, eggs will magically appear.



"Look Mom! The seeds are sprouting. What? Eggs? Oh, yeah. Still looking."



"Plants here too, Mom!"



"Right where? I can't see it. Are you sure, Mom?"



"Oh, right! Now we see it!"


Now they're finally picking up speed. It helped that Daddy showed them picture clues that he'd taken for the last six of them.


You might think I'm mocking my children. And let's be honest. I am. But I will also point out, in the interest of Egg Hunt Justice, that when the kids hid them for us, Art found eleven, and I found three. See? I told you they were my genes.

Babies are Beautiful

I'm having so much fun watching my friends and family members become parents. In some ways it was just yesterday that I walked through that portal of no return myself, yet my children are suddenly six-and-a-half and eight. I think that means I've been a parent for eight years. It boggles the mind.

But I digress.

I've especially enjoyed my cousin Mandy's journey into motherhood. I will admit that I was a little nervous of how it would be for her. She feels things very deeply, and her health is not the strongest, so I was afraid that motherhood, with its accompanying lack of sleep and hormonal ups and downs might be especially hard on her.

My fears were ill-founded, and I'm so very glad. Her little girl is a doll. They named her Serenity, and it looks like they named her very aptly. I'm sure she has all the typical baby tendencies; spit-up, poo, teething...but she also is beautiful, sweet-tempered, and a real talker, just like her mama.

Mandy has completely accepted that it is good and right to spend time snuggling with the little one. That isn't easy for many women. She has already begun the process of enjoying these fleeting moments of infancy with her precious child, and I'm so proud of her. I love hearing her talk about the jokes she makes with her baby and her husband (who sounds like a fantastic father and spouse).

Her little one wears actual baby clothes, which I wouldn't have guessed previously, since Mandy herself favors a more...eclectic...style. She has wisely decided that Serenity is her own person, and will develop her own tastes and desires as she goes through life. Again, not every woman can do that. I know I struggle(d) with that myself.

I pray that my other relatives who have just had babies or who are looking forward to that prospect in the near future can accept the ups and downs with the same grace as Mandy. Her little girl has a crazy, fun-filled life to look forward to, and although I know there are still difficulties ahead, and that there have already been bad days as well as good, I know too that Mandy will have the strength to face them, and the heart to make them count.

Here's to you, cousin. God bless you!

Hazards of Homeschool

This is the danger of introducing new science topics. Today I told Zaya to go read his chapter about protists. (Also called protozoa) He runs off all excited that he doesn't have to do his spelling yet.

After a few brief minutes of quiet, I hear a sound coming from the living room.

*SPLOORGE*

and again

*SPLOORGE*

My son is now a protozoa. The next thing I hear from the living room is,

"I need a membrane." He comes crawling into the bedroom to find a blanket. Now he's crawling around discussing his own inner working, and complaining that his sister hurt his mitochondria when she sat on him.

She is an amoeba, but has a fuzzy, silky, purple membrane, because apparently there are divas in the protist world as well.

So much for getting schoolwork done. How do you tell your children to stop being single-celled organisms and playing together nicely and come do their spelling. It would take a heart of stone, which I like to think I do not possess.

Does this happen to other mothers? I have to think it does. I have to think that, because it keeps me sane and hoping that my children will some day become effective, functioning members of society.

I suppose the rest of our schoolwork can wait until my single-celled organisms have tired of what should be a fairly limited existence.

Apples and Oranges

My father recently took a Myers-Brigs personality test, and it has started our family on a little cascade of personality testing. Whenever something like this happens, it brings to mind our quirky little differences, and, at least for a time, we understand each other a little more. Reading our personality assessments has been eye-opening as each of us say, "Hey! That's exactly right!" (I'm an ENFP. Mostly)

We've often laughed (wept?) at the extreme opposite personalities in our house, but it's been fun to see it on paper as well. Of the three children (myself and my brother and sister) I am the one who is most likely to fit in with others, get along with people, and be comfortable functioning in the world in general. My siblings would be the first to agree with that statement, so I'm not telling them something they don't already know.

Just yesterday was a great example of those differences. My younger brother and his wife and my younger sister went for a quick trip to Dallas to see a concert. They travel fairly often, and have been to quite a few different cities for one thing or another, yet things like this still happen: [liberally paraphrased]

I get a call from my brother, "Carina, are you near a computer?"
"Well, yes, I can be. What's up?"
"We're heading to that concert and we don't have a map for Dallas. Could you find the {unnamed} Theatre on the map?"
"Sure. I'm on Google maps now. Ok, I've found the Theatre. Where exactly are you?"
"We're driving down I-35. I think in Fort Worth."

That's right. They were already in Fort Worth, and didn't actually have any kind of map to get them to a location in central Dallas.

I proceeded to give them what were probably confusing directions over the phone as they hurtled down the interstate. They did arrive at their destination, so all's well...etc. I encouraged them to go by a gas station and grab a map. Crazy, out-of-the-box thinking from big sis. I was joking about it to my mom this morning, and she said that my sister actually owns a GPS, but no one thought to bring it.

This is one of the many reasons I love my family. We all need each other so much. I would feel lost if I couldn't still take care of my little brother and sister sometimes, and apparently, they would be lost and wandering around Dallas if they didn't have a big sister with a good internet connection. A slight exaggeration, yes, but you get the idea.

Now if I could just find my car keys...I guess we do have a few things in common.

(The picture includes my younger cousin. She's like a little sister, so it all still applies. I won't give away any of her personality secrets on the net. You're welcome, C.)

Catching Up

The kids and I had a wonderful little visit to our family and friends in western OK. Art went on a business trip, so we decided that it would be a good chance for us to reconnect with our loved ones back home.

We made a list and tried to schedule in as many people as possible, and I think we did fairly well. We left a little something behind in almost every house: a jacket here, and sock there, a cd, toothbrush, chip bag...you get the idea.

I spent most of one morning just trying to re-collect all these tokens of our presence. Some remain uncollected.

It was especially nice to see Mr. M again this week. He was very sick this last summer when we moved, so the kids weren't able to visit with him next door like they have for the last five years. He and his wife moved to a retirement village in Kansas right after we ourselves moved out of state, and we didn't think we would ever have a chance to see them again.



We were so surprised to hear that Mr. M had been spotted at morning coffee at the cafe. We drove to three different businesses trying to track him down, but finally found someone who knew that he was at their old home, even though the car was gone. (His wife had the car downtown at the hairdresser's. I love small towns!)

We were all ecstatic to have the chance to visit with Mr. M again. It was just one of many blessings this week. Another highlight was the opportunity to hold my new "sort-of" nephew. He's only a few weeks old, and the pictures over the internet weren't enough. Now I know he's real because I held him, all tiny and sleeping, in my own arms.

All that to say, it was a wonderful week, and we enjoyed every last bit of our visit. I got to see friends I haven't talked with in years, and friends I used to spend hours with every week. Mom and Mom-in-law, Dad and Dad-in-law, siblings, siblings' spouses, nieces, nephews, cousins...whew!

I'm exhausted, and glad to be home, but I'm so thankful that God gave me the courage to make the trip on my own with Mim and Zaya. I apologize to everyone who had to clean up after us when we left, and I hope we improve in our packing and preparation abilities as time goes on.

I don't regret a moment of it, though, only that there weren't enough moments to visit everyone. Going home always renews my faith in human-kind and the power of love to cover distances, both physical and temporal. I can't wait until we're all together in the presence of God someday, and I can see absolutely all my loved ones at the same time, and for eternity.