Laughing is good. Most of the time.

In the words of storyteller Robert Munsch, “This house is going craaaazyyyy!”

Not really, but it sure feels like it sometimes.  I have tried to look at the ridiculous and the delightful, as a way of counting my blessings.  Here are a few.

• “I want some of that too!  What is it?”
• cantabump, n.  A person who eats other people.
• “I’m full.  Can I have more?”
• “I love you. You’re the best whole world.”
• (At the end of the book, every time)  “Amen.”
• Bear’s name is Foo Foo, but we can’t pronounce that, so we call him Poo Poo.
• Name of a certain private body part: tooter.
• Raisin Bran for breakfast please, but I will not eat the raisins.
• “Finger out of your nose, please.  Do you need a tissue?”  “No, I just had to get this out.”  (produces “this.”)
• Picking apples wearing a leotard and cowboy boots.  No, this was NOT me.

Halfway to Eighteen!?

This Friday, my firstborn child turns 9.  Here is what I looked like during the first week of October 2001.

Bare feet and a towel on my head.  Yep.  If I only knew that it was the last shower I’d get for six years.  I’m kidding.

I had spent the month of September watching television.  Mostly various Discovery network channels, plus lots of this:

Brian put his foot down on the name “Fox”, however.  My obsession with this show stopped shortly after Gannon was born.  (I wonder if this is why I heard this snippet of conversation just now as I was posting this… Gan: “And then an alien comes down and abducts the cow.”  Acadia: “Ducks?  What can a duck do to a cow?”)

We didn’t really know what we were in for with having a child.  The only experience we had together in the caretaking department, besides having a tadpole/frog, was with our cat.  Scully (don’t blame me; she came named!).

Isn’t she so cute?  She was the perfect child: ate without a fuss, never whined, loved to leave us alone.  She did have a habit of drinking out of the toilet, though.

I could only hope our child would be satisfied with the more standard beverages provided by us.

Turns out he pretty much was.

Gannon is really still this big.  He only looks gargantuan, lanky, and capable of anything in the world.  It’s a deception.

He’s not really walking up a tree.

Hot August

It’s a hot day out there.  Heat + Kids = NEED WATER.  They asked to go to the pond, but I told them no.  The water is low, and the weeds are high, and the scent of dead fish is overpowering.  Too dirty to swim at the pond, but hey, get in your suits and go play with the hose.

This is what resulted.

It’s a big, giant puddle.  Some of you may recognize this as the location of Dirt City.  We let the Army Corps of Engineers have a go at it, and look what happened.

Gannon made everyone line up and take a turn going over the bridge.  “Don’t fall in the mud,” Acadia said.

“It’s acid,” was his reply.

So yeah, don’t fall in.  But it didn’t stay acid the whole time.  This is a very versatile puddle.

It is also a very DEEP puddle.

Good thing we didn’t go to the dirty, smelly pond.  I want my kids to stay CLEAN!

What my kids say when they are asleep

Gannon sleeps soundly and rarely makes a peep. Instead, he can sometimes be found looking for the bathroom, while sleeping. This produces amusing and often embarrassing results, and I won’t go into detail.

Acadia sleeps, but remains her usual, social self even while doing so. Most of what she has to say is directed toward her brother. “Gannon, no! Mine!” is a favorite. Just now she asked me, in her sleep, what “very” means. I told her to go to sleep. She asked a followup question: “What does Very Very mean?”

She has also talked about people I have never heard of. This is mildly disturbing.

Another question she asked me tonight, after I thought she was asleep, was, “is it only the firstborn boy who got the blessing back then, or was it the oldest child?”

Always thinking. I like that.

Laughing At Stuff That’s [Not] Funny

I don’t know, I must just have a weird sense of humor.  But some things are just plain funny to me.  Over the years, I have learned that it is not always appropriate to laugh and point when I’m struck with a fit of giggles over something, especially in public settings.  If I try really hard, I usually can control at least the pointing.

Here are some things that recently have had me snorting.

• “Fashion Against AIDS“…as opposed to “Fashion For AIDS”?  Am I the only one who thinks that’s a ridiculous name?  And is fashion really all that great at fighting against things?  *ponder*  I suppose it could be used to fight against something.  Like those jackets with lots of zippers and chains.  They look like they’d be a good tool in any fight.  Except maybe the fight for an airline boarding pass.  Those metal detectors are picky sometimes.
• Things that upset my daughter are usually funny, but of course I can’t laugh at them.  Not while she’s around anyway.  Later, I laugh.  And tell everyone I can find to listen.  Like yesterday when she came in crying and sopping wet (in her bathing suit).  At first she tried to make it sound like she was crying because a bunch of boys had hit her.  Then it came out that it was because, “We were playing with the water and then it was every man for himself and it didn’t go very well for me.” Sob, sob, sob!
• Another thing that I feel I shouldn’t laugh about, but really want to (and do), is Engrish.com.  It’s not appropriate at all.  At ALL. But it inspires serious snorts over here.
• The people who canvass our neighborhood to spread the word about their church.  Yes, okay, this is not nice for me to laugh at them.  But really.  Picture, if you will, a completely average-looking suburban dweller.  You know, shops at Kohl’s, has kids at State Street School, borrows stuff from the neighbors. Okay, got it in your mind?  These are not the people who come to my door asking me to visit their church. The people at the door tend to be far from average.  Either really short, or really tall.  Bright red hair, or a graying perm.  Shopping not at Kohl’s.  Or at all.  I don’t think it is the people themselves I want to laugh at.  What gets me going is their standard non-standardness.  They are so like each other, but unlike so many others.  And that concept, for some reason, is pure hilarity to me.  I don’t quite get myself most of the time.
• This subskate thing.  You might have seen it in the toy section of your local RiteAid.  It looks highly unlikely that any kid would use it for long.  I may be wrong, I mean, my brother and I spent a lot of time in the summer using everyday objects in some super-cool ways for way longer than any adult would have, I’m sure.  But really.  This thing is just lame, and if I see you with one, I will point and laugh and not even try to contain myself.  Unless you’re a little kid.  Then I will do it behind your back, just to be kind.
• Okay, one more.  I saw an eyebrow comb at Wal-Mart.  I suppose people could need one, but it struck me as funny anyway.

I hope you’ve enjoyed this post.  Feel free to hit that ole ignore button, just to be safe for next time.

Home School History – Civil War

I’ve known for years that at least one of my great-greats fought in the Civil War.  His name was Oliver Norton, and he wasn’t a general or anything.  He did, however, achieve relative fame because he was a writer.  He wrote many letters back to his family, and later wrote an account of the battle at Gettysburg that is still in publication today, The Attack and Defense of Little Round Top.

Doesn’t he look all young and rosy-cheeked in this portrait, like a kid dressing up in his father’s clothes?  He grew up to have Burnsides-style facial hair, which I can only hope never comes back into style.  He also became a banker, which I also hope never comes back into style.  Before the war, he had started out as a teacher and a farmer, two occupations of much better use.

I didn’t know the stuff about Oliver being an author until this morning.  Now I’m all excited to read his letters and other eyewitness accounts!  Here are some links, in case you want to dive into the War Between the States with the help of some primary sources.

• Oliver Willcox Norton (about his service as a bugler in the Union army)
• Letters of Olustee (scroll down and look for his name to read his letters)
• Elizabeth Carter Vincent (read Oliver Norton’s speech at the dedication of the memorial to his former commander)
• Buy The Attack and Defense of Little Round Top at Amazon.com

Note: Oliver Norton, being a bugler, is sometimes said to have been the first person to officially play Taps, and to have collaborated on its writing with Brig. Gen. Daniel Butterfield.  This is up for some debate, although he himself made this claim.

Legacy

I hope to take to heart this bit of the wisdom of Charles Spurgeon, which I read on The Spurgeon Archive (yes, I am a theology geek):

What to Leave Children

The just man walketh in his integrity: his children are blessed after him. (Proverbs 20:7)

Anxiety about our family is natural, but we shall be wise if we turn it into care about our own character. If we walk before the Lord in integrity, we shall do more to bless our descendants than if we bequeathed them large estates. A father’s holy life is a rich legacy for his sons.

The upright man leaves his heirs his example, and this in itself will be a mine of true wealth, How many men may trace their success in life to the example of their parents!

He leaves them also his repute. Men think better of us as the sons of a man who could be trusted, the successors of a tradesman of excellent repute, Oh, that all young men were anxious to keep up the family name!

Above all, he leaves his children his prayers and the blessing of a prayer-hearing God, and these make our offspring to be favored among the sons of men. God will save them even after we are dead. Oh, that they might be saved at once!

Our integrity may be God’s means of saving our sons and daughters. If they see the truth of our religion proved by our lives, it may be that they will believe in Jesus for themselves. Lord, fulfill this word to my household!

Medical Adventures

We’re spending some time at CHaD with our [foster] baby as she has been admitted to the hospital with pneumonia.

Acadia asked if the doctors took out her lungs.  (No, they didn’t.)

What conflicting feelings when one of the kids is sick!  I want to be with her, but I don’t want to ignore the other kids, who are also sick with colds/strep.  Asking other people to watch them when they are sick…not on my list of fun things to do.  And yet all I want to do is to hold that cranky little one and try to make her forget that she doesn’t feel good.

I’ve also got protective feelings for Brian, who is sick with this coughing, nasty cold too, and who slept last night on one of those pull-out chairs that is generously called a “cot”.  He won’t say if he needs a break, so I try to guess when he does and force him.  Yeah, that doesn’t work well.

Some of the folks who work at CHaD are Christians, and I love the fact that we can talk about God with someone there.

I’m thankful for Brian’s job, which has allowed him to take time off for the baby, both for court and illness.  Not everyone has such a reasonable employer to work for.  Or any employer, for that matter.

Our friends are amazing people.  One fellow mom gave me her car to use to bring baby to the hospital, then stayed with my kids for hours, all the while missing her own little one.  I know she doesn’t do it so I will thank her, but just because that’s what friends do.  (I will thank her profusely, however, for washing the dishes and tidying up a mess that was already there when she arrived!!)  I see Christ in you, and in the many people who have offered to help, not just for this incident, but at many opportunities.

Once again I will say it: parenting is not for the faint of heart.

For Halloween, maybe…..

The subject of cadavers came up during our evening family discussions.  It had to happen, since we seem to get around to every topic eventually.  Brian told the kids how a person can choose to let medical students use their body after they die. Acadia wondered,

“For what?  Oh, for a decoration?”

Thanks-giving

I feel like writing in ALL CAPS this morning.  I’m resisting, mostly.

I can’t help but notice we’ve turned a day of gratitude and contentment with what we have into part of the prelude to the biggest MORE-fest ever.  Kinda skipped over the Thanks part and went straight for the Giving.  Or Gimme.

Right now the kids are watching a cute PBS Christmas show with Curious George.  The focus so far?  Making a Christmas list out of a catalog and finding gifts for other people.  Maybe I should be happy they’re emphasizing giving.  But really, do we need to give more stuff at Christmas, in this culture of Way More Than Enough?

Part of it could be the idea of giving thanks.  To whom are we giving the thanks?  Our natural inclination is to ignore God whenever possible.  And who else do you say thank-you to for things that, according to the American dream, you worked so hard to get in the first place?

I hope to teach my kids to be happy with Just Enough.  And to figure out what that means.  I know I tend toward the Just A Little Bit More Will Be Enough, myself.  So that one is a challenge!

Be Thankful.