A birthday and other happenings

Michael turned thirty-one years old. It continues to feel very weird that we are no longer in our "early twenties."

We had lots of yummy food today (on which I overindulged since it was a "break day" from my no-dessert challenge) in celebration, and we also enjoyed a wonderful visit from parents this weekend. Happy birthday, Sweetheart.

Last weekend, we enjoyed a quick visit from Michael's younger brother and his wife, Caleb and Shannyn, and their two cute kids, Clark and Jane. Clara thought Clark was pretty cool and even allowed him to wear her backpack at one point.

There's nothing like having great friends to whom you are also related. Wish we lived closer to our siblings!

Thirteen thoughts for Friday the 13th

1. Don't ever let your child push a puzzle box with screws on the bottom eight feet across your hardwood floor.

2. Don't try to fix previously-mentioned scratches with a magic eraser.

3. Don't bring couscous on a picnic.

4. Don't bring quesadillas on a picnic.

5. You can add yeast to bread dough after it's mixed if you realize you forgot to add it. It will rise and taste fine, although it might not be quite as fluffy.

6. Buying an expensive pair of eyeglasses and then losing it isn't a good idea. Or a set of car keys.

7. You'll regret eating that. You think you won't, but trust me. You will.

8. Hairbows on little girls make the lamest outfit look cute.

9. Mrs. Meyer's Everyday cleaner in geranium smells lovely. I don't know if it cleans better, but it makes me feel better.

10. Low-fat sour cream tastes so much better than fat-free. It's worth the extra calories.

11. Vinegar and water really do work to clean the mirror.

12. Never put an adult-size q-tip in a child's ear.

13. Keep a portable potty in your trunk, even after your child is potty-trained. It really comes in handy.

Halloween continued

In honor of the Halloween season being finally over, Michael and I have shaken hands and committed to having a dessert-free month until Thanksgiving. Well, we are going to take one day off for his birthday. For those of you who know me well, it ain't gonna be easy. But I will prevail!

In the meantime, I shall reminisce.


We actually didn't take Clara trick-or-treating because we'd already gone to the church Halloween festival and gotten gobs of candy. Plus, I was tired of getting her dressed up. Fortunately she was none the wiser.

After Clara had gone to bed, I couldn't resist dumping all her candy out and organizing like I did in the good ole' days. There is something so irresistible and alluring about opening a bag full of candy and smelling that smell. The smell of goodness. And temptation.

At Clara's preschool, they had a little Halloween parade--check out the sweet Scooby Doo costume some kid is wearing.

Princess Clara. She had debated being a vampire, a witch, or a ghost, so I was relieved when princess was the order of the day (especially since we already had the shoes and dress in her dress-up clothes).

The traditional pumpkin carving attempt. I asked Clara what kind of face she wanted and she finally settled on "a surprised face."


By the way, join in on our dessert-free contest if you'd like. We can be strong together.

Halloween party

We threw a costume party Friday night.

Bloody signs courtesy of my artistic husband.

I like luminaries.

Remember this post? I thought our Harry and Ginny ensembles worked out pretty well. I made the ties, which aren't really real ties, but they worked from a distance.

Check out these sweet treats some friends brought. The note says, "Warning: Contains eyes."

A pregnant angel and her devil husband, with our friend Lindsay in the back (who came with her nearly newborn baby--wow).

Our friends and fellow co-hosts, Adam and Janie, dressed up as Hermione and Ron. Adam's wig was hilariously awesome. This was our "serious" shot . . . I lamented to Janie that I am incapable of doing the "serious and sultry" look but pull off the "deer in the headlights" look most admirably.

Hermione and Harry discussing over dinner.

Most of the gang. I am so mad, but I forgot to take a picture of one couple--the wife, Becky, is pictured in front in the doctor's outfit. Her husband was dressed as a grim reaper, and they came as "traditional health insurance" and "the public option," informing everyone that they had to guess which was which.

The Grease duo and a 20s duo.

After the fire died down and most of our guests left, Michael got some golf tips from our friend Allen.

It was a fun night.

The Enemy

"The better is the enemy of the good." Francois de Voltaire


We've all been given talents. Lately, however, I've been feeling like "a jack of all trades and a master of none." (Okay, a jack of only a few trades.) So when a new, possibly upshot soprano joined my chamber choir recently, of course I felt intimidated, my talent wasn't very good, how dare she have an amazing voice, I wasn't needed anymore, and why was I even trying when there would always be someone better? etc.

Ahhh. Confessing always makes me feel better.

Anyhoo, I want to embrace the fact that being so-so, mediocre, or average at a skill isn't bad. It's fine. It's better to be average at something than to just bury your head in the ground entirely. (At least, that's what I'm trying to convince myself.) There must be a balance between improving yourself and being content with who you are.

This issue bleeds into other areas--there are so many things that moms can do or be involved in nowadays . . . and not just involved in; they have to be amazing at it, too. It's not just about the washing and the ironing and the cooking and the cleaning and the slaughtering anymore. No, now it's replaced with what the modern mommy should be doing:

keeping an organized home
staying fit and skinny (preferably through running 10Ks and/or marathons)
maintaining beautiful hair
(I know you envy me)
blogging
sewing
quilting
canning
building a year's supply
photography
gardening
music
studying scriptures
magnifying her calling
sharing the gospel
doing family history
baking whole wheat bread
cutting coupons
reading intelligent books

Oh, and need I add, raising beautiful, intelligent, sociable, polite, exceedingly precocious children?

(She may not be all of the above, but I wouldn't trade her for any other child on the whole planet.)


I want to empower myself to let go of the things I feel I ought to do (but don't want to) and give myself time for the things I want to do but don't. Why do I sometimes feel like I should do what everyone else is doing? Do I actually even enjoy that particular activity?

I recently made a list entitled "My Life Priorities." And you know what?

None of the above were listed on it.


Okay, I jest. But like Voltaire said, those who are merely good at a particular skill can feel intimidated or even disheartened by those who excel. Not that it's bad to excel, mind you. But it's okay to just be good at something. Or merely okay. Or downright terrible.

I like what James of the New Testament had to say: "If any many offend not in word, the same is a perfect man."

Now that's a goal I can wrap my mind around--instead of worrying about all the STUFF I feel like I should be doing or focusing on skills I'm not good at, how about I try to perfect myself by controlling this waggling tongue of mine?

How about I try to excel at things that matter?


Actually, I've decided to pare my life priority list down to one thing that I can be really good at:

eating

Oh, that wasn't on the list? Dang.


How about complaining?

A trip to Harrisonburg, VA

We just got back from a great trip up to Virginia to check out another orthodontic practice. (Thank you AGAIN for watching Clara, wonderful grandparents.)

Harrisonburg is in the Shenandoah Valley, and it is lovely at this time of year. We even were surprised with snow, a bear, and lots of deer when we went up to the mountains for a short hike. Here are a few glimpses, caption-free.

A favorite children's author: Shirley Hughes

Months ago, I happened upon an "Alfie" book as I was perusing the children's library books, selecting the actual books I would be checking out instead of the ones Clara was piling up on the floor (I'm a terrible mom, I know.)


Oh, how I was enthralled. Where do I begin?

The illustrations: The pictures are whimsical, charming, winsome, and engaging. The facial expressions are fabulous and the whole book just makes you want to dive in and live there.

The stories: Hughes perfectly captures everyday life experiences of a British family--in the, what, mid-50s?--and tells them in such a captivating way. Alfie and Annie Rose have lots of books, but she's also written one called Dogger and several about Lucy and Tom and some other children. We've read about fifteen of her books, I'm guessing, and I wish I could own every one of them. Or any one of them, for that matter.



I don't know if her style only appeals to some people, but it certainly appealed to me. In fact, I love this lady so much I'm thinking about naming a child after her. (What do you think, honey? Okay, maybe if we ever get a dog. How about then?)

Check out Shirley Hughes today. You won't regret it. And if you do, give that book right back to the library so a more appreciative soul can check it out.

Just routine

"Create a daily schedule. . . . This will help [your child] understand and prioritize what he needs to accomplish each day" (Raising a Sensory Smart Child, p. 224).

I have read this and many variations on this theme in so many developmental books: a schedule will help you and your child. Especially for children who have transition challenges and motor planning problems, many experts tout that a schedule is very helpful.

Oh, how I have fought it.

It probably seems counter-intuitive that a person like me (read: likes to be in control and likes things orderly) would be so against making a "schedule" for Clara (i.e. me). Don't get me wrong--I've started ones before, but without success. I find that as soon as I feel reined in by a schedule, I feel I have to fight against it and scrap the whole thing entirely. I like to control my schedule and not feel controlled by it.

Does this make any sense?

ANYWAY, as time has passed, Michael and I have felt that having a predictable routine would be very helpful for us as well as for Clara. So we finally did it. We compromised with the "daily schedule" concept and made up a morning and a night routine. It's a happy compromise because what with preschool three days a week, physical therapy, occupational therapy, ballet, and adaptive aquatics, the rest of our day is scheduled enough as it is.

We also threw in a chore chart, a toileting routine reminder, and a "family rules" list for good measure.

Boy do we feel empowered.

Check out this sweet morning routine, ably illustrated by my husband. (Don't you think he missed his calling as an artist?)


Here's the night routine.


I posted them by Clara's bed (note the nice canister of chili powder Clara placed on her nightstand).

Can I just tell you what a sense of peace and consistency we're feeling? Clara expects it, and we have a visual reminder for ourselves because quite frankly, sometimes we forget all our good parenting intentions.

Don't you love these pictures?! The consequence for not doing "the steps" as we call them (Clara has SUCH a hard time doing these): Mr. Bear goes on the shelf because he doesn't like dirty hands. It's a pretty good motivator.


Our family rules, complete with consequences as appropriate.


"Clara bear's chore chart"--I got this idea from my sister-in-law Shannyn who did a way cooler chore chart.

Having a predictable morning and night routine makes us all happy.


Giddy, in fact.

Pretty darn good

Camping with some of our favorite people.

Helpful tent setter-upper.

Staying up late.

Three giddy girls tracking dirt into a tent and sleeping bags.


Finding sea shells by the side of a lake.


Sleeping in, a leisurely Sunday breakfast, two days of hearing the voice of a prophet and twelve apostles.


Yeah, this weekend was pretty great.

More Clara-fication

Enjoy a few recent tidbits:


(when she wants to change the song on a CD)
"Can you turn the page?"

After a lovely prayer this evening, I said, "Thank you, Sweetheart," to which she replied, "Not Sweetheart. Sweet PEA."

(as I cut open a sweet potato):

"That steam is against the [Word of] Wisdom."

(on a bright sunny day)
"Shoo sunshine!"

After I reprimanded her for doing something and she half-heartedly curled up in a ball, she informed us, "I was trying to cry."

(upon coming home from preschool)
"My brain is tired . . . and my nose is tired."

As we were praying the other night, I said, "I'm thankful for . . . " and was waiting for her to fill in the blank. She responded with ". . . nothing."

(as Michael tried to hug her after coming home from a hot run):
"Please stop. You're wet. Are you going to take a shower?"

(photo by April Mitchell)


Clara CONSTANTLY--as in, all day, every day, often first thing in the morning before "Hi" and last thing at night--wants me to pretend to be something or someone with me. I don't mind being doggies, or kitties, or bears, or even being a doctor and her being the patient. But I think it goes too far sometimes (and yes, these are all real-life examples. Too real.):


"Can you be Clara and I'll be Mr. Bear?"
"Can you be Count and I'll be Elmo?" (or any variation on Sesame Street characters)
"Can you be the restaurant owner and I'll be the come-iner?" (aka customer)
"Can you be Baker Mommy and I'll be Baker Clara?"
"Can you be Tasha and I'll be Uniqua?" (from Backyardigans)
"Can you be a pumpkin and I'll be a jack-o-lantern?" (huh?)
"Can you be Grandma and I'll be Little Red Riding Hood?"
"Can you be the Big Bad Wolf and I'll be Little Red Riding Hood?" (or more typically, Michael is the Big Bad Wolf)
"Can you be Buster and I'll be Arthur?"
"Can you be Boots and I'll be Dora?"
"Can you be a baby and I'll be a baby, too?"
"Can you be Sister Bear and I'll be Brother Bear?"
"Can you be Mary and I'll be baby Jesus?"
"Can you be Goliath and I'll be David?"
"Can you be the nursemaid and I'll be pharoah's daughter?" (she typically has Mr. Bear being Moses in a basket)
"Can you be Ruby and I'll be Max?"
"Can you be ______ (any of her friends at school) and I'll be Clara?"
"Can you be Wall-E and I'll be Eva?"
"Can you be Bernard and I'll be Annie Rose?" (from a book)
"Can you be Bear and I'll be Franklin?" (Franklin books)
"Can you be Heber Jensen and I'll be Fanny?" (Fanny's Dream book)
"Can you be the Fairy Godmother and I'll be Fanny?" (Fanny's Dream book)
"Can you be the wicked stepmother and I'll be Cinderella?"
"Can you be the clean-up manager?" (what I call myself when I'm directing her in her room clean-up efforts) . . . but then she'll say, "Can you talk in a clean-up manager's voice?" (not sure what that is, exactly)

She has even asked to be some other crazy things, like objects, other real people we know, etc., which put me at a complete loss.

By the way, have I mentioned Clara's incredible and somewhat freaky memory for names?


I think the reason she likes the pretending is because she likes predictability (a topic for another post entirely)--she likes to have the same thing happen over and over again. It's like watching a movie that you never get sick of. At least, she doesn't.

Book Review: Last Child in the Woods

(Side note: Hooray! My camera was fixed for a whopping $3.43 and now I'm back in business.)

I am always in the market for a good read, so I thought I'd begin occasionally posting book reviews of books I'd recommend.

I recently finished Richard Louv's Last Child in the Woods: Saving Our Children from Nature-Deficit Disorder.


I remember as a child playing in the drained pond behind our neighborhood and bringing cattails home. I recall walking to the waterfalls in the woods with my brother(s?) and neighborhood friends, getting lost, and hitching a ride with a stranger to get back home (yikes). I don't recall my mom knowing where I was all the time, which I think was the case for many of us as children.

Would you let your child do that today? Not me.

This non-fiction book was a fascinating look into how we as a society and as individuals no longer let our children "go play" outside. We have playgrounds and blacktops (which lend themselves to place those children with physical giftedness at the top of the totem pole) instead of natural green places which encourage more creative and longitudinal play--a creek, a pond, trees to climb, hills to run on, etc.


One of the ironies Louv discusses is how our children (and adults) today are taught to "protect the environment" instead of experiencing the environment. Kids today know more about the rainforests of South America and the savannas of Africa than they do about the flora and fauna of their own backyards.


He also addresses obstacles to our preventing our children from playing outside:

1. Time: This is a biggie. Since many of us (myself included) feel uncomfortable sending our children outside to play alone, we have to be willing to take the time to be outside with them, and not only at a park (which is better than nothing), but somewhere where they can explore and imagine and pretend.

(Michael and Clara doing the bicycle after a delicious riverside picnic this week.)

2. Fear of strangers: We do need to be careful, but the chances of stranger abduction are very low (he sites stats, etc.). We shouldn't prevent our children from going outside because of this fear, but I think the trickiest thing is to find a balance between giving them independence to explore and yet being close by as well.

3. Fear of animals, insects, sunburn, etc.: The dangers of the outdoors are real, but so are the dangers of the indoors. West Nile mosquitoes can come inside your house, brown recluse spiders prefer your house, and our houses can have many/more allergens than outside. A solution I thought of would be to teach our children (and learn ourselves) about dangerous bugs, snakes, etc. so the whole family will feel empowered and safe.

Richard Louv argues that outside playtime should be as essential to our children's well-being as their piano lessons and sporting activities. Ironically, the rise in childhood obesity has increased at the same time as a rise in organized sports participation. How could this be? He speculates its cause is because our children go from the computer to soccer practice and home again to sit and do homework or watch an episode on tv. The naturally high activity levels that kids used to have no longer seem to exist.


If you don't think that this book has a case, check out this advertisement I received in the mail for the Imagine It! Children's Museum in Atlanta:

Come and play in the shade this summer at the Exploring Trees Inside and Out exhibit at Imagine It! The Children's Museum of Atlanta. Experience the sights, sounds and scenes, and even climb inside a giant tree at this fascinating exhibit, open now through September 13, 2009.


Hmmm . . . how about just taking your kids to the woods? What a novel concept.

Camera withdrawals

You might have noticed my recent paucity of posts.

The reason is that my camera is currently broken, and I confess that I am a visual learner and like pictures to accompany my text.

However, another issue reared its ugly head with my camera (which will be repaired at no cost to me due to a sensor malfunction--woohoo!) not working: I have a secret feeling that if I can't take a picture of the event, it didn't happen. I think to myself, "How will I remember this experience? Why should we do it if no one--us, posterity, blog viewers--will see it?" (That last question is partly tongue-in-cheek but perhaps more true than I'd like to admit.)

So today when we drove 3+ hours to Tybee Island and then to Savannah and then returned home again by 7:30pm, I was very put-out that we didn't have our camera to record the experience.

Fortunately, our wonderful time today also made me realize a few blessings of being camera-less:

1. I didn't worry nearly as much about my personal appearance.
2. I didn't worry about whether our camera would be stolen when we were out in the ocean.
3. Not every experience has to be recorded for posterity. They can be recorded mentally and then enjoyed further through verbal rehearsal, e.g. "Remember when we were at the beach and you were so brave in the ocean and loved playing in the sand?".
4. Life is for living, not just for being looked at.


I do still think photos, video, and other forms of memory preservation are very important--they were a big part of my upbringing, what can I say?--but I am learning that the experience is much more important than the "having done it" bragging rights.


I'm ashamed that it's taking me so long to learn this simple lesson, but even though the truth hurts, it feels better to share it.

A sound-off

I find Clara's sensory issues absolutely fascinating. If you don't, feel free to close the window.

I recently spoke with Clara's occupational therapist, Claudia, about how it seems that some senses--especially her auditory sense--have become more pronounced recently. Claudia felt that it was really a good thing because it's showing that she is more aware of them and can therefore cope with them more easily.

For example, Clara holds her hands over her ears frequently, which she never did as of a month or so ago. She has done/does this upon hearing the following:

thunder
sausage sizzling in the pan
loud laughter
airplanes, etc.
cereal crunching in her mouth
loud music
vacuum
the "thunder" and "rain" in the produce department

I think sometimes she does it as an experiment (like with the cereal), and other times it is a defense mechanism. It is most upsetting/shocking when it's a sudden, unexpected noise, as noises often are. She sometimes asks us to stop laughing and says, "Don't do that." Thunder is now a dreaded occurrence and she often asks before bed, "The thunder won't come on, right?"

I remember as a baby, she would startle so easily--you'd sneeze and she'd jump a mile. Of course, I didn't think much of it then, although I thought it was interesting. I had previously thought that perhaps this auditory sense issue was getting worse recently, but I think her OT is right--she is just growing more aware of sounds and is learning to identify them, even though some are upsetting to her. She is often immediately distracted when she hears anything (things that I tune out), like a motorcycle going by, or the wind on the windows, or anything like that.

One fascinating aspect of all of this is her absolute love of music. She wants to listen to it all the time--in the car, at home, etc. I taught her how to turn on the CD player at home and she'll just turn it on and sit on the couch, reading books and listening. She likes classical, country (she loves an old Dixie Chicks CD), some big band stuff, pop, Broadway (she'll ask, "Can I listen to the Broadway CD?"), and of course her kid music.

(Clara made a little nest to snuggle in while listening to her music.)

I love it that she loves music, and especially that she is learning to sing on pitch. Of course I loved her singing before that, but I confess as a music lover myself I am a bit relieved . . .

Clara will finally be getting a speech evaluation in November--I made the appointment a couple of months ago and that was the earliest opening (!)--and I am curious to see/ask for an audiology exam. I'll be interested to find out what more, if anything, I can do to help her cope. The therapist we'll be going to does music therapy as well. We'll see what happens, and in the meantime, we'll stick around and enjoy the ride.

For Clara's sake, preferably a quiet, peaceful ride.

Thanks . . .

. . . for asking me out on that first date nearly eight years ago. I never knew bell bottoms, a paisley vest, and a rock-awesome wig would be the beginning of a wonderful life.

Happy 7th anniversary, Sweetheart.