Not the Mess, but Near the Mess

Yesterday started out as a regular morning at our little school.




Pixie got some work done, in fits and starts, of course, with all of the racket her brothers were making. We call that part "Community Life," or "Civics," or "Self directed study while Mom gets play-doh out of the carpet." She's doing pretty well.

Still, there are times when I like to focus my attention on one particular student (like during math). Bud has math while Pixie does spelling exercises, or reads her history or literature, for example. And often, Bud does phonics or Lightning McQueen during Pixie's math lesson.

Not so much yesterday.

Yesterday, Bud asked me if he could "make confetti."

Now, one of my very favorite little girls in the neighborhood made me confetti for a birthday present year before last, so I know that homemade confetti can be a really good thing. And I wasn't letting him out to play alone in the front yard, where he often picks up handfuls of mulch which he throws the air pretending it's confetti. And really, I just want a little uninterrupted time to go over whatever new and exciting thing Saxon has for Pixie and myself on any given day...so I said, "Sure! Here's the paper!"



Wombles had the crayons, and soon he and Bud had a symbiotic relationship where he colored the paper and then Bud cut it up into little bits of confetti.


Wombles had an advisory role, as well.



This smirk says so much about what Bud was feeling right about this time. "Yeah, I know making confetti is a lot of work...I'll never let them know I actually like it, or they'd ask me to do it all the time."



Serious business.


I did make him get right down from the chair, I'll have you know. That's dangerous, for goodness' sake!

And Bud really did keep up his end of the bargain: he swept up a good percentage of the confetti he made. I didn't realize he was so motivated. I didn't realize how he was motivated.

I would soon find out. And our playset slide would never be the same.

The "near the mess" was not referring to Pixie, by the way. I was talking about the confetti. More to come.


By the way, I survived leading our Bible study on Matthew 19 today. It felt like a slow moving train wreck, but I'll trust that what I perceive as reality and that which is actually real are not necessarily the same (are necessarily not the same? Often, anyway). Both the Pharisees and the Rich Young Ruler came to Jesus with questions, thinking they already knew the parameters with which they were working. In his infinite love and wisdom, Jesus went about setting them straight. I'm pretty sure I'm not aware of everything that's going into this, too; and so while I can try really really hard, I'm pretty sure that I'm called to be faithful and to love Jesus, and leave him to work a lot of these things out.

Tomorrow: MUD!

Lazy Winter Days

In honor of the snowpocalypse, or snowmaggedon, or whatever-you-call-it that's happening three time zones from here, I thought I'd share what we've been doing. Granted, these were taken on Thursday, and Snowdzilla didn't attack until Friday, from what I can gather from facebook photos. And nevermind that we've had rain while everyone else has been snowed in, or that I've worn socks for almost a straight week. (What is the weather coming to??). If you are snowed in, just consider these little snapshots a reminder of what green looks like--and a reminder that there WILL be spring again! (Oh, how I needed that back in the day...).

During recess on Thursday, I told the children that they had to go outside. HAD to. Tuvieron que. So Pixie scooped up her book and headed to the patio.



Bud found a ?Windmill? What are they called again? Pinwheel? And let'er rip:




Wombles favored the swings for his recreation:


(I love that he has figured out a way to swing by himself! Yessss!)

Here, he is letting me know what was wrong with the RED swing (?).


"See how happy I am swinging in the blue swing? Keep nassssty red swingses."



Naturally, it was only a matter of time until these two seemingly idyllic worlds collided.




Who knew? Wombles thought it was HILARIOUS to swing into a pinwheel so that it smacked him in the face! Now, why didn't I think of that?


Clearly, I do not have sufficient testosterone levels to understand how awesome it can be to get whacked with a pinwheel. Or to whack with a pinwheel. Either one, really.



Awww, Mom. Quit with the analysis, already.


So I'll close for now, and wish warmth to you all. I'm blogging as I put off, delay, procrastinate working on Matthew 19. I'm teaching at our women's bible study on Tuesday, and am finding it incredibly easy to put off serious thinking on the subject. That last shot of Wombles pretty much says it for me, too.

When Wombles Finds Candy

I teach Spanish. There are times in an elementary-aged- student's life when...a little extra motivation is appreciated.

I never did this when I was a classroom teacher. But now that I teach one of those "after-school programs," things are a little crazy. There is a prize box. Students earn tickets, and spend them at the box.

Besides pencils, bouncy balls, dress-up rings and suchlike, the prize box contains candy. Gum. Lollipops. One of my fifth grade students helped me with supply-and-demand economics last semester, explaining that I should make gum more expensive because kids cared more about that kind of thing than cheap toys. He was right, and there are new prices in town this semester. And new sheriffs (or sheriff badges, anyway). Silly me! I had made the things that were more expensive to ME the most expensive to THEM! The gum was CHEAP!...but they wanted it more than anything else.

And the lollipops.

Turns out, Wombles likes lollipops, too. Once he figured out there was a bag of them in the office with my Spanish things, we found this out on the couch:


We reconstructed the crime this way: Run into office. Swipe lollipop. Run to couch. Unwrap lollipop surreptitiously. Lick. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat...


Poor guy! He never got to try the orange!

Although he did get a coconut or pineapple or whatever the white one is the next day.

And today, he proudly rode around the grocery store with a blue beard from his 'pop after I had bribed the three kids in the bank. :) They were EXTREMELY well-behaved!

Bud in the Mud

"Regal Riddle."

Does that mean anything to you? Spark any memory? Maybe shake up some old Hebrew vocab that's bouncing around in your brain somewhere?

Feel free to take a moment to remember the muddy tracks up and down our driveway, if you like, here.

At the time, I mourned I didn't have a photo of Bud in the mud.

Heh heh. That rhymes.

Tonight, we had dinner down with Allison in her family, in their HOUSE, and it was wonderful to be there. Also, she sent us the picture she DID take of Bud in the Mud, with her phone, before bringing him up to our house.

Here it is, for your viewing pleasure:


J's question tonight: "What would make someone SEE the mud, and think, "Hey! I want to go get in that!" ?"

That was a good day for Bud.

Reason #5100

I am overwhelmed with God's goodness.
And am feeling much better.
And am reflecting on Reason # 5,100.

We came home from church on Sunday in two different cars (someone had returned a borrowed vehicle to us). I left earlier to bring home a miserable Pixie. Ibuprofen delivered and her bundled to bed, I threw on rice and prepped asparagus to go with it. We had invited folks home for lunch, and there was yummy beef in the crock pot.

My throat had been hurting though, and I discovered during the prep that I had a low fever; I crawled into bed and neither Pixie nor I joined J, our boys and our guest at lunch.

While I was asleep, J got the email requesting ALL of his mid-tenure Review paperwork ONE WEEK from Monday. ONE WEEK! Shocking (to us, anyway). He had heard it would be by March 11, maybe earlier. February 1? With one week's warning?

I won't even tell you about all of the essays, references, and other paperwork involved. If J didn't have a good start on it (which he does), it would be impossible. As it is, it would be a significant...shift in our potentially planned time allocation over the next 8 days. J and I have a very tightly-bound-up schedule. I was frustrated for him. And I was frustrated for me, too.

And then, the Wheels Fell Off the Wagon!! (Sing it with me!)

I did not know WHAT was going on. Overnight my throat got worse. And my muscles and bones felt like I'd been kicked around a while. Pixie was in a lot of pain, crying and not sleeping through much of the night. I tried to comfort her, although my fever was now over 103 and I wasn't seeing straight. (I didn't get him up to help with Pixie, by the way, as he was up with her SATURDAY night). Finally at 2:30am I told her she could read if it distracted her from the pain, which she did until 5, when she could have more Tylenol. I will not go into all of the grossness involved. In fact, I can skip anything about me until Tuesday, when I really got out of bed and onto the couch. I am trying to give you a picture of what J saw when he got up the next morning...Monday...his no-classes, I'm going to really-get-a-lot-done-day...His countdown-to-review-papers day 1, besides a usually busy and productive-type day.


He saw a Perfect Storm pursuing his must-be-disciplined week.

And what did he do?

He sent me back to bed. He brought me the second handset to our new cordless phones, and taught me how to use it as an intercom to call him in the front of the house...and he turned the ringer off so I wouldn't be disturbed. He called me out sick from my Spanish classes. He canceled a meeting I had. He took Pixie to the doctor....and took Bud and Wombles with him. He brought me Gatorade. And ice chips. And his laptop, already cued up on Netflix to a BBC series he thought I'd like. I cried about how I was sorry, and he acted like it was no big deal. He canceled his meeting with his faculty mentor about the review process. He canceled his office hours. He went to the pharmacy with three children and got a prescription for Pixie's antibiotics filled...and one for me, too. I told the pediatrician on the phone that when he walked in with that for me, I was so happy I cried (we thought I had the flu). I don't even know what else he did because I was absent, but I know our children were fed, clothed, and put to bed at appropriate times. I know that he never complained or even let me know he was stressed. If I had been in my head I would have thought that a little kooky, but I wasn't and was just so grateful to wallow without the guilt.

Tuesday, he was ready to cancel all of his classes and another important meeting. We decided to try him going in--it would depend a lot on what the three kiddoes did--so he took the cell phone in his pocket to teach. (Mercifully, the kids were engaged with the new movies my friend brought, and I didn't really have to get off of the couch all day.) He came home and made supper.

This morning, I found a line of Psalm 15 running through my head--memorized long ago in the King James--"He sweareth to his own hurt and changeth not." My still-slow brain clambered around, thinking, What did J swear? Oh, Riiight. In sickness and in health. I am so grateful, and a little in awe, actually, of J these past three days. Part of it is the sickness thing, although we talked about that tonight and acknowledged that there's likely worse to come at some point. But the fearless change--or maybe revealing-- of priorities quite takes my breath away. The change was in direction, at last minute, which I am so terrible at doing. What a gift to get to see it done so well. I hope I can learn.

Love, Love, Love you, J. Thank you.



And here's Psalm 15, in more modern language (ESV):

15:1 O Lord, who shall sojourn in your tent?
Who shall dwell on your holy hill?

2 He who walks blamelessly and does what is right
and speaks truth in his heart;
3 who does not slander with his tongue
and does no evil to his neighbor,
nor takes up a reproach against his friend;
4 in whose eyes a vile person is despised,
but who honors those who fear the Lord;
who swears to his own hurt and does not change;
5 who does not put out his money at interest
and does not take a bribe against the innocent.
He who does these things shall never be moved.

Sick

Pixie and I came down with strep throat this weekend. After spending about 40 hours in bed, I've gotten up (J has 6 hours of teaching today). A friend just dropped off some videos the kids haven't seen yet, and will return later with ginger ale and popsicles. I hope we all make it until J gets home! He is carrying the cell phone in his pocket, just in case. He took the whole day off yesterday, took all three kids to the doctor's office with him, and was an amazing example of uncomplaining, sacrificial love.

It's REALLY bad timing, work-wise, for him to have to take off. More later.

OK, I've been vertical too long. Off for another video!

A package from home

Today, in the midst of (yet another) wet and stormy day, a package arrived at our doorstop.

It was there waiting for us when we got home.

It was addressed to everyone from DD and Nona. Since it was to everyone, Pixie suggested that we wait until Dad got home to open it. Splendid idea!

My mom made aprons for ALL FIVE OF US...plus Pixie's doll ("Molly").

As it happened, Pixie had picked up a new doll at Target today ("Emily") and wanted that doll to be the wearer of the apron instead.

It was really cute to watch her go through the line with her five-dollar bill and buy a doll and a little secret-code notebook and key.

While I was uploading that first picture, Pixie came in (it's almost her lights-out time) and asked me to babysit Emily while she went to the bathroom. I took the opportunity to take a picture of the wee lassie.


She's wearing the apron again, as was Pixie.

You rock, Nona!