Stuck in a House Full of Weirdoes

Today felt like a long string of "whaaa?"s.  It was Day Two without Greg and here is why I felt like the only sane person in the house.

SPENCER (2)

Spencer, like his brother, seems to believe that a prayer should consist of a list of things that have happened or will happen during the day.   In one family prayer, I believe it was meant to be the blessing on our cheese sandwiches, Spencer was thankful "that we could put on the mask...and not put on the mask" (i.e. take it off).  (This in reference to the foam superhero mask Evie made for him earlier in the day.)

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I've taught all my kids that your brain is about the size of your fists held together (which also happens to look a little like a brain).  I'm not sure there is any great degree of truth in this, but I remember regularly checking on the size of my brain as I grew up by using this method of measuring and I'm not about to deprive my own children of the fun of it just because it might not be true.  Truth be darned.  I'm not googling it.

So, like I was saying, Aaron was explaining this to Spencer. "Spencer, look, this is how big my brain is!" he declared, holding up his hand-brain.  After getting little response he repeated himself and Spence finally came back with, "Yeah!  Do you like my bones?" while pointing to his shirt (presumably referring to the ribs beneath).

AARON (5)

I gathered all the kids on the couch and read The Spirit of Christmas to them, talking about Christmas and helping them find the hidden "spirit" in each picture. The book came to its touching conclusion about how Christmas is about the birth of the savior and therefore the Spirit of Christmas is LOVE.

As I finished the last page there was a moment's pause while, I assumed, we all processed the message.  Aaron broke the silence saying, loudly, "Oh my gosh!  Jack has really long fingernails!" (He was talking about the cartoon Samurai Jack, which we haven't watched for weeks.)

DAVID (11)

I heard the front door open and went to see who had come or gone.  Nobody was there, but Evie stood in the hallway holding the phone that connects to the intercom from our front gate.  I heard David call from outside, "Now push the gunshots." whereupon Evie pushed a button on David's cell phone she held, which caused it to burst forth in rapid-fire gunshot sounds, the speaker placed on the mic end of the intercom.  David then called out, "Now the hair clipper one!", and Ev pushed a button that made the sound of a head of hair being buzzed.

This went on for a few minutes and then David presented himself back in the house in long johns and slippers, no coat.  He'd gone down the freezy slippery stairs attired thusly for his experiment.

Later I heard Aaron call from the playroom, "David!  Nobody is EVER coming!" Apparently he'd been assigned as lookout so David could rush to the phone to frighten any poor passersby with his intercom antics.  David graciously relieved him of duty.

EVIE (13)

After Spencer's aforementioned prayer I looked up and noticed he looked like a little chimney sweep.

I asked what happened to his face and she said, "Oh! I colored his mask with marker!" I put on my "COMPLETELY OBNOXIOUS MOTHER" cap and challenged her response.  Repeatedly.  I couldn't get her to understand that his nose was not black because she had colored a mask.  She insisted that that WAS why.  Come on, Ev!  My nose wasn't black despite the fact that she had colored the mask.  Finally I had to inform her that his face was dirty because he had been wearing the mask that she had colored with black marker.  (Sheesh!)

At the time I sort of thought this last anecdote could be used as evidence that she is slightly crazy (to fit in with the theme of the post, you see), but now I realize that it really only proves that I'm annoying.

Which I think we already knew.

Faith and Other Young Women Values

I loved the Young Women program.  I loved the beautiful, amazing women who were called to be my leaders.  I wanted exactly what they had: strong testimonies and handsome, loving husbands and children.  Because they had just what I was hoping to get, I listened to what they taught and watched what they did.  I admired them and I believed them.

I loved attending Sunday meetings.  I sat on the third floor of our chapel* during opening exercises at the huge table, made of a number of tables pushed together, and looked across at the Laurels on the other side.  I dreamed of the day I would be in high school and would be smart and dating and, hopefully, one-tenth as beautiful as those girls.

I loved it when my teacher brought a basket full of freshly baked muffins or cookies to class.  I loved the object lessons.  I loved when they spoke about the things that mattered most to them and I felt the spirit and was changed.

I loved our diverse group of girls.  I enjoyed it very much when the girl who was a year younger than me and had family problems came to church.  She wore black and looked down and covered her face with her platinum blonde hair.  If you ever caught a glimpse of her eyes, she was rolling them.  I considered it my unofficial calling to get her to smile.  I fellowshipped her the only way I knew how.  I was glad she took kindly to verbal irony.

I loved Wednesday activities.  I relished the chance to hang out with my friends on a school night.  I liked doing service projects and playing games.  I loved the hope that I'd see whichever-boy-it-was-I-had-a-crush-on-at-the-time playing basketball.  I loved the joint activities, especially the broom hockey in the cultural hall, despite the fact that I came home with bruised and bleeding shins from all the brooms that missed the "puck" (folded pair of socks) and bashed my legs instead.  To this day that is the only "sport" I've ever felt a deep love for.

I have a daughter.  She's twelve.  Apart from our family, there are five church members in our branch.  None of them are young women.  In our entire district (4 branches scattered across southern Poland) there are a total of 3 or 4 other young women.

Ewelina does not have what I had.  Honestly, she doesn't have anything close to it.  I realize we are all given different experiences and we can each grow from the situation we find ourselves in.  It's still really hard.  As long as 7 years ago or so I told people who asked that we would probably move back to the states by the time Evie was 12 so she could have the same character and testimony building opportunities that I had by attending Young Women.

But we're still here.  She has contact with the other girls in our district.  She is grateful, but it's not the same.  She wishes she had what she saw this summer, when she was visiting her cousins in New Jersey.  She misses what I had.  I hugged her tonight as she cried about it, holding back my own tears.

And I need to find a way to be to her what my leaders were to me.  But how!?!   How on earth can I BE THAT?  I need to be teaching her the lessons from the manual, but I should also be teaching my other three kids the lessons they should be learning in Primary.  It is too much and I am weak and lazy.

Ev and I just sat down and talked about Personal Progress.  I think she is excited.  It is a fantastic program and will give her much of what I had and teach her the things she needs to know.

I am grateful for a Father who knows what we need and is ready to bless us with it.  If we ask in faith, he will give it to us.  I hope he will, even after having written a blog post about how the most I can expect to be given doesn't seem like enough.   But I know that He can give whatever is required for Evie to develop a strong and sustaining testimony of the gospel.  And, what it comes down to is that that is the thing I'm really after.
*our chapel was previously a country club.  If you've watched God's Army you've seen it, when the missionaries are eating lunch on the terrace and the "Lamanite" calls down and preaches repentance to the inhabitants of Hollywood.

Broken Gage

I'm not sure how (or if) it happens, but I think some people's cuteness gage gets a little wonky when it comes to their own children. For example, lately I think everything Aaron (4) says or does is so cute. Then I think, if I told someone about it, would they think it was cute too? And the answer is usually "probably not". The result of these reflections is that I am sitting down to write out the cute things he's said in the last day or two for anyone interested to roll their eyes at.



While playing Gold Miner on my phone (he's very adept at it and it's fun to watch) as he collects the gold nuggets he asks me, "Are those muffins or cookies?" ~Clearly they must be something delicious if Miner Joe is willing to risk his life to get them, right?



Lately he often answers my questions or requests by saying, "Yes, my dear" or "of course, my dear". I adore it.



While showing how much we loved each other (à la Guess How Much I Love You?) I finally told Aaron that I love him all the way around the world. He asked me to show him so I spread my arms as far as I could and said, "Like that, except all the way around the world". Aaron looked from me to Greg and said, "Daddy can do it for you because he has the biggest elbows." ~If you have really big elbows you can reach your arms around the world. Just so you know. Long arms will not do the trick.

He always wears his hat so he can just barely see from under it as seen above, but I guess that's better than how he's been known to wear hats.

He uses "I hope" and "I think" interchangeably, meaning that he often says things like, "I hope there's gonna be a monster in the bathroom!"



This afternoon I gave the kids some pretzels, turned on cartoons and sat next to them on the couch. After a minute Aaron turned to me and asked, "Why are you not taking a shower?" Clearly I've never sent Aaron the message that the TV is a babysitter. Or that the afternoon is a fine time to take your morning shower (although this was at 4 pm and I rarely take them that late. And today I happened to shower way back at 9:30).

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See the shirt Spence is wearing above? It's a notebook page that says: To do list: Be Awesome like MOM! While Evie was in America she bought it for him. It was a gift for Spencer , but I was even more delighted with it (minus the only wanting him to wear it around the house and hoping nobody thinks I bought it for my own kid thing) (Also, Aaron loves it too because it's yellow and everything that is yellow belongs to him automatically. He still lets Spencer wear it, though.)



So isn't that sweet that Ev bought that? As if she loves me. You would never guess that a few weeks before she had been so excited to see the back of me for a month.

All joking aside, I totally love this picture of our final farewell

And now that she's back home I get both yelled at and congratulated on the same quality. This morning she almost started crying during a moment of frustration when she shouted, "Mom! You said you wouldn't DO that!" "Do what!?!" "Make us laugh when we're mad*!" Then later while we chatted and made a pie she complimented me on my sense of humor and said, "Seriously, I love it so much."



SO DO YOU LOVE OR HATE TO BE MADE TO LAUGH, CHILD!?!



Sheesh. I can't win.

*(I have a hard time not teasing, even when I've promised not to. Oops.)

Getting What She Deserves and Growing Up

You know how you sometimes send your eleven year old daughter off on a bus full of people you don't know to Hungary for six days?

Yeah, I knew you'd understand when I told you what I did this morning.

Every year our elementary school sends the kids at the top of each class (who have straight A's or better) for a week-long trip pretty much for free. Evie's been working super hard this year to earn the right and she did it (she also won $125 in gift certificates from the mayor)! She's the only girl in her class eligible for the trip, so she had to arrange with girls (she barely knows) from other classes that she can hang with them for the week. But she's excited and I think she'll have a blast.

And all of this only a few months after I decided that we will be a "no sleepover" family. So, yeah. It is a bit of a weird situation, but after a ton of pondering, long conversations with Ev and some prayer, I feel quite good about it.

Then she'll come back home for a couple of weeks before getting on a plane by herself to cross the Atlantic and visit her cousins. My sister, Su, and brother-in-law (Tom) bought her a ticket and she's going to spend a MONTH with them. Away from us. Away from ME! How we will all survive (including my sister), I'm not sure. But I'm so excited for her.

I think this will be the Summer Evie Grew Up. I mean, she's already quite mature for her age, but after this, we'll pretty much consider her an adult, I think.

And mostly I really think she deserves to have all these experiences she's been dreaming of. I just need to figure out how to deserve my sister's generosity and bravery. (did I mention Evie's ELEVEN, and, while she's very helpful and sweet, smart and fun, she's also ELEVEN. The drama has definitely begun with her. But Su has a 12 year old daughter, so I think she has a clue what she's in for.)

I have a feeling Evie starting junior high this fall might not seem like such a huge step afterall.

Built-in Girlfriend

She didn't get much for Christmas this year. In fact, most of her presents were small amounts of money or tiny little gift certificates. The amount of each gift just about enough to buy a shirt.

She went out to spend her gift money at one store and came home excited to show me what she bought, not because she was excited to wear it to school the next day, but because it was for me. She hadn't found anything she loved so she decided to buy something to liven up our living room, a purple vase and some brown decorative rocks.

The next week she went to another store to get something with a gift certificate. When she came home she showed me the scarf and hat set she had chosen... for me. Again, nothing jumped off the shelf at her, so she chose something she knew I needed and made a gift of it.

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I'm not the most physically affectionate person (or the second most, or third, either) and she recently told me we needed to hug more often, and we do. Now before bed she sometimes says, "Let's do this right" and comes for a hug while we say goodnight.

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Thursday morning while I made the kids' lunches before school I was reviewing all the things I needed to get done before Greg's sister arrived in the afternoon for a weekend visit. I listed them aloud and Ev calculated that I had a good seven hours to get everything done. I whined that I didn't think it would be enough (I'm a professional whiner).

Without missing a beat she offered this advice, "First just make everything look nice, then worry about all the other stuff."

How well this girl knows me! I want things spotless before we have overnight guests and struggle every time to make that happen. I spend the day or two before they arrive working like crazy and often end up with not a speck of dust anywhere, clean light switches and doorknobs and organized toy drawers but also piles of books that haven't been put on shelves and pots from the night before that haven't been cleaned. And no dinner ready to eat. Whacked priorities.

She knows that, and her advice (tidy first, then scrub) could not have been more sound or helpful.

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This morning we chatted while she fed Spence and I made sandwiches. Greg came into the kitchen to get some breakfast and listened in as I bagged the sandwiches for the trip (to church) and Ev filled up water bottles, talking the whole time.

It was getting late and we really needed to hit the road and our gabbing made Greg nervous so he said, "Okay guys. How 'bout no more talking; we really need to go." And then, "A little less conversation, a little more action." (which caused me to laugh, and also caused me to have a non-hymn stuck in my mind for the rest of this Sabbath morning)

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Heaven knows I love my husband and my boys, but Heaven also knew that I needed a girlfriend and that's why He gave me Ewelina. I thank Heaven for her!!

Just Now

15 minutes ago:
I cut the kids each a piece of fudge (Chocolate orange fudge tastes like Christmas and I can't stop myself from eating it. Which is neither here nor there, but I said it anyway.). After she finished hers Evie asked if she could cut herself another (I was feeding Spencer). I said yes. She asked, "A sensible piece or what?" I looked over her shoulder at where she was holding the knife poised to cut and I said, "Yeah, that's a sensible piece." She replied, "So. . . bigger than that?"

20 seconds ago (as I typed that last paragraph):
David screams "SPENCER'S UPSTAIRS!!!" A minute ago he was down here with us and then suddenly he was upstairs in my bedroom. He "learned" (i.e. started trying, a few days shy of 11 months old. I tell you, my kids are not overly adventurous) to climb the stairs two days ago. We are vigilant (obviously. . .) about not letting him. Our stairs are terrifying: hard wood, foot-wide gaps between the rails (you can see in one of the pictures here), even all around the landing at the top. We need to do something about it. Like get a gate.

10 minutes ago:
Looking through David's books for homework I noticed they were all covered in crumbs. I helped him clean out that nasty backpack on Monday and today it's all full of crumbs and wadded papers again, so I very calmly and patiently (ahem) ask him what on earth happened. He replies, "It's not my fault, mom! I did not put ANY crumbs in there!"

Then I look through his English homework (they're learning how to tell time, or rather translate it "It's a quarter past two.") and see that probably 40% of the words he's written are misspelled. This is awful and much worse knowing that he was copying off the blackboard. As I point out some mistakes one by one, he says, every single time, over and over, "That's how my pani (teacher) wrote it!" He's such a punk.

This afternoon/evening:
Greg is gone. After getting home from driving back from Germany on Sunday, Greg decided to make a 4 hour round trip journey on Monday to visit a church leader who's having some life struggles. Today, Wednesday he is making a 6 hour round trip drive to a training meeting/fireside. Tomorrow he's agreed to participate in a discussion with investigators: 4 hour round trip drive. On Friday he drives 5 hours to Wrocław for a meeting and from there flies to Prague for an area meeting on Saturday. Sunday he conducts a training meeting back in Wrocław and Monday teaches a class on church history at the Jagiellonian University in Krakow, before coming back home. (Hours given are just the drive, not including meetings.)

That's some driving/meeting/teaching/etc.ing. A good way to spend the week after spending a week at the temple.

Right this minute:
I quite love my family.

Teaching Evie to Give Her Socks to the Janitor

Schools in Poland are set up differently than those in America. Rather than hanging your coat on a rack in your classroom, when you first enter the school there is an area with a group of cages, one for each class, in which you leave your coat. You also leave your shoes there.

Every day the kids change into "school shoes". They take this separate pair of shoes, which is usually canvas or some other light type of shoe, in a special bag (which can be bought to match your backpack), change near their class' "cloakroom" and leave their regular shoes in the bag, which they hang by their coat.

The janitor lady locks up the cages after the bell rings and opens it again before school lets out. (this means that if your kids are late they may have to run around looking for the janitor to have her open their door) Different classes let out at different times, and sometimes classes take trips outside and have to change shoes and put on coats etc. so occasionally the cages are open during classes.

This, of course, is all very strange to me. It's a pain in the neck in many ways. Of course it's a good idea in some respects. I mean, imagine walking down the hall at school and not going through all the slush people bring in during the winter. The problem is, it only takes one or two parents or teachers to walk down the hall in wet shoes and then all the kids' clean school shoes are muddy, too.

But whatever. That's how they do it here and I stopped complaining about it after Evie's second year in school (see how good I am, only complaining for two years about something I can't change!?!)

There is, however, another problem. Stuff gets stolen and lost very easily. David has "lost" a couple of nice sweaters, a pair of good new gloves and a pair of (cheap but new) school shoes over the course of 2 1/2 years. Ewelina? Well, she's "lost" a number of items of clothing and two pairs of shoes. Good shoes. Good, new shoes.

Sorry about this tangent, but I can't really stand girls' shoes these days. They are ugly, most of them. And the ugliest ones of all are those that I'm sure I would have died to have when I was Evie's age. Fashion and it's cycles.

Anyway, last year we bought Evie this (ugly) pair of shoes that she was just in love with. They were the most expensive pair we've ever bought her (we're cheap though, so they weren't that expensive). She wore them for a couple of weeks and then they disappeared. From the cloakroom. Into thin air.

She was somewhat devastated. It was cold enough that we just had her wear her winter boots, but when spring came again we finally got her a replacement pair. Shiny red low-tops that she also loved.

A week or two later and the red shoes disappeared, too. Nothing we have ever lost has ended up in the lost-and-found. Thin air, I tell you.

Yesterday after school Evie called Greg (who was getting ready to go pick her up; we don't rush and the kids sometimes wait an hour or so for us (him) to come. Again, every class has a different schedule so there are always some classes still going on and it's very normal for other kids to just be hanging around)

This time Evie didn't want to wait. She told Greg to come as fast as he could. Why? Because she had just seen the janitor wearing her old shoes (the first pair that went missing)!

Yeah.

Those were not a style of shoes a forty something cleaning lady would wear. Unless. . .

So, yeah.

Ev and her friend were looking at the shoes and whispering. When the janitor noticed them staring she left right away. A little later they saw her again and she was wearing the slippers she usually wears around the school.

What a range of emotions I feel about this. The shock and upset that I felt initially wore off pretty early on and is now mostly covered by pity and. . . regret? I just feel bad for her.

I sort of would like to approach the lady. Maybe I would say she could keep the shoes (obviously), but could we please have back the leg warmers that were in the bag with them, which Ewelina's aunt knitted specially for her?

Greg is planning on talking to the principal. I definitely understand this. They really shouldn't have a thief working on grounds. Especially not one with keys.

But I can't help thinking that maybe talking to her would be enough. I don't know. Maybe not, if she has a lucrative stall in the outside market where she sells like-new children's shoes and winter clothing.

Basically when it comes to the "justice" part of the whole thing I'm a little torn (let her keep taking other children's things? Probably not a good idea), but there is no question about the mercy aspect.

Evie was very upset when she got back from school. She really misses her shoes. She is very angry with the janitor. I talked to her about how understandable that is. Then I asked if she knows what Jesus said we should do in such situations. She didn't remember.

Well, it turns out he gave quite a similar example. I quoted that "if any man . . . take away thy coat, let him have thy cloak also."

I suggested Evie take a pair of socks to school and offer it to the janitor.

She didn't think this was funny. Or poignant. Or anything other than a little annoying. But I think she's coming around. Sometimes forgiveness takes a little time.

Imperfect Children

Sometimes my kid's imperfections drive me all the way bonkers, but sometimes I appreciate them, or at least the way they deal with them.

David:

David hates bragging. It's his pet peeve. Kids who are heavy braggers don't end up on his list of friends and when his real friends brag I think it hurts him a little.

This may be in part because we've talked about the importance of honesty and telling the truth even when others don't etc. and I've used competition bragging as an example (Oh yeah? Well we have SEVEN computers and 12 TVs!). Part of this is because of the country we live in and how little value is placed on honesty (which I've mentioned before here and at the end of this one).

So now he hates it, whether someone is lying or not. There's one friend who does a lot of bragging that David rarely plays with and when he does he tells us about all the things the boy bragged about (and we try to be empathetic AND tell him not to gossip at the same time . . . tricky).

A couple of weeks ago David was telling me about how mean this boy was and that he was bragging again. The story went something like this (only with more detail):

"I was showing him this trick I can do on my bike and he didn't even care and just showed me that he can do it, too. And I showed him another and he showed me how he can do it better etc.. He just ALWAYS brags and I HATE IT!!"

So I asked David what he would think if the boy came to him and started showing him all these bike tricks he could do, one at at time. Would he think he was bragging?

There was a very brief pause and then his eyes grew wide and his jaw dropped (which was very cute). He totally got it and wasn't defensive about it or anything. I think the only thing he said was, "Oh my gosh." It was a really good lesson for him.

Evie:

Ev sometimes has a hard time falling asleep at night. This is usually because she did something during the day that upset me and she can't stop thinking about it. Now she usually just tells me at the time, "Mom! I'm not going to be able to fall asleep tonight." And we work through her disobedience or whatever it is I'm upset about and she figures out how to right the wrong so she'll be able to sleep.

Last week she was still up reading at like 11:30 or something (at least an hour after her latest time of going to sleep.) I asked her what was up and after a little coaxing she told me that she had lied to dad during the day and she felt terrible.

Greg had given her money to take to the nearby store to buy some bread or something and she came home and told him there was no change, but there was and she had spent it.

I loved that this weighed so heavily on her conscience, of course, and told her that she needed to talk to Greg. She thought maybe I should just tell him everything and then she could come and say she was sorry? (nice try, Ev) She did the full confession, hugged her dad and was asleep within 60 seconds.

Aaron:

First of all you need to know that an important phrase Aarons uses is, "Ee dee day." Which, of course, means "It's okay." He says it whenever anyone stops crying or shows signs of not being upset anymore, including himself when he's hurt or mad and crying and, rather abruptly, stops and says, "Ee dee day!" with a smile. (weirdo) He also says it if you accidentally knock him over or something.

He recently found a doll that cries when you take out its pacifier. He loves this doll and loves puting the pacifier in and taking it out. He carries it around and allows it to cry for longer than my head can tolerate. But he's mostly sweet with it.

Except sometimes. Once I was in the room and he pulled out the baby's pacifier and let her cry for a minute. After a while he looked at the baby and said, "Ee dee day." Sort of soothingly. The baby continued to cry (as he continued to hold the pacifier in his hand) so he said it again. After another few seconds of the obnoxious, "Mama! Waaaaaaa! Mama! Waaaaaa!", he took the doll by the shoulders and yelled, "EE DEE DAY!"

At which point I started in on lessons on how to treat a baby.

Overheard

I realized recently that I haven't been talking to the kids about U.S. Presidents like I should be this time of year, so last night over dinner I told them a little about Abraham Lincoln.  I gave them each a penny so they would know what he looked like and told them what I remember about him (far too little).  Then I told them about Melanie's post about the contents of his pockets on the day he died and how the box they were in was opened in the 1970's.

I told them what I remembered of it and then Greg piped in with, "And I heard -- this is really weird, but -- I heard that they also found an ipod in there."  Followed by a  l e n g t h y explanation of how the ipod (nano) was used and what materials it was made of etc.  I rolled my eyes and waited for him to finish.  But then someone else chimed in with, "And there was a cell phone in there!"  "No, it was an mp3 player!"  

I was blocking this all out as I dished out seconds until there was a break and Evie said, "Actually, they found out that it was an mp1 player."   And I burst out laughing.  Because that was funny.  

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The hallway on our main floor is very long and fairly wide (it's very Polish so it's not an open plan and there are doorways off the hall to the playroom, living room, kitchen, bathroom and down stairs.  You can sort of see part of it in one picture on this post) and it's David and Aaron's domain.  They race their cars there, play their wrestling games there and, most recently, play soccer there.  That hallway is always full of loud, usually happy, noises.

Last night before bed David followed me up the stairs saying, "Mom, you wanna know what a cute sport Aaron is?  And what a nice sport?"  (can you tell he doesn't live in a country where he ever really hears the term "good sport" ?)  After I caught my breath again after the darlingness of the question, he told me that they had been playing soccer and every time David had scored a goal Aaron had raised his hands high above him and shouted, "GOOOOOOAL!"  ("DOOOOOOH!") and then clapped and said, "Bravo!"  ("Dah-doh!").  I don't know for sure which I loved more, David's question or Aaron's cheerleading.

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Then, while I was changing his sheets and he was putting on his pajamas, David got all confidential and started telling me lots of interesting stuff, not the least of which was the fact that his teacher had told him that he should have Evie teach him how to read.  

Evie is a very good reader.   Her speed, comprehension and elocution* is really a pleasure to listen to.  In second (or first?) grade her teacher referred us to a something or other where Evie could develop or display or something her talent for reading.  We didn't do anything about it, though, because we're lame (and didn't really know what it was about, as you may have gathered).

I thought that was a pretty good idea for Evie to help him with his reading (she's helped him some in the past).  All last year and all summer long I read with him almost every day for practice, but his progress has been kind of slow.  With Evie, I taught her what sound every letter makes and she pretty much started reading the next day.  

I asked him, "Does your teacher know that I read with you every day?"  And he told me that his teacher just suggested that he read with Ev because she reads "reeeeeeeeeally well" (David's teacher used to be Evie's) and that he shouldn't read with me or dad.  

Of course I was a little curious about that.  "Really!?!  She told you NOT to read with us?"  Finally he sighed and said, "Okay, fine.  You're asking me so I'll tell you the truth.  She said that I shouldn't practice reading with you."  I found this to be very humorous.  

This makes perfect sense, of course.  I mean, she knows that every single time I talk to her I am not confident in my Polish.  It seems obvious that I might not read well in Polish.  But I think I can confidently say that I am not a bad reader in Polish.  It's very easy, actually, because each letter or set of letters only makes one sound.  You just memorize them and you can read.  But his teacher has no way of knowing how I read.  

But of course I had to say, "Tell your teacher that I'm the one who taught Evie to read."  Because I did.  And also because Come On.

*Thanks for the word, Heidi!

Learning Experiences?

(I love it when you're wondering what, ever, you will post about because you committed yourself to write something every day and just moments later a blog post falls right into your lap. But I just wish they were always funny or at least crazy or neat. Or involved really delicious food. Today's is none of the above.)

My title today is in response to a post I read over at Melancholy Smile yesterday. Her title was the same as mine only without the question mark. Her post is about a wonderful experience she had with teaching her daughter about money (part of which takes place in a car), it's value and purpose and about working to earn it (although I totally agree with her idea that basic allowance should not be related to chores done, as those are part of family life). It's a great post, great blog, great lady, and you should all check her out.

But, as I mentioned, and I'm sure you saw, mine has a question mark. MY post will also be about my daughter and money and being in the car. See? Practically twins. Except for the contrast in our parenting technique. . .

This morning as we were leaving the house to go to school, Evie was crying. Lately she cries about half the time because she hates going to school. She also gets stomach aches. When I was her age, I also used to get stomach aches, related to my fear of school. No fun. (except for the time when they thought it might be because I was allergic to milk and I got to have grape juice with my school lunch instead of milk for a while. That was fun.)

Well, this morning as she was putting all her bags into the car her little purse that she had just put her money in tipped to the side and out rolled all the change. She cried even louder. (The rest of this post happened over the course of the 7-8 minute drive to school)

I tried to console her. I asked what the problem was and then patiently asked her to please say it again (3 times) because I couldn't understand her through the sobs. I assured her that everything would be okay. I told her I'd be happy to help her get it when we got to the school.

"We can NEVER get it!! It's down in the seat belt thing! No one could ever get it out!" (I admit I got a tiny bit sarcastic here and told her to please stop worrying and saying such things until we had given EVERYONE an opportunity to try and NOBODY was able to retrieve the money.) "There's no way we can get EVERYONE to try, mom!!" Cry, cry, cry. (obvious out of character literalness/grouchiness. She understands my sarcasm)

Okay, at this point there was a bit of , "Evie, you have to stop crying about this." in a firm voice. Then I had a thought, "Okay, Evie, how much money dropped? It was probably less than 2 zloty (maybe 75 cents), right?" Yes, it was definitely less. "So really, Evie, that's not that much money! If we can't get it out I can even give you the money. It will be okay!!"

"But that's the whole thing, mom!!! (?) I thought I had hardly any money left and I was SO glad when I found that zloty, and now I've lost it!!!"

"But I can give you one zloty! There is no more problem!"

"But I'm so stupid!! I was so excited about it and then I dropped it!"

"Okay, Ev. We're almost at school and you need to try to calm down. Don't think about the money. Everything will be fine."

Whimper, whimper, cry.

In hopes of distracting her, "Are you ready for your performance in the assembly today?"

"It's NOT a performance!!! We're singing a song." whimper whimper.

"STOP IT, EWELINA!! NO--MORE--CRYING!!!"

Finally we pull into the school parking lot. While the kids unload themselves from the car, I tell them to try and have a good day.

The end.

So this reminds me of my post about how my kids freak out in which I discuss both their freak-out-ishness and how we deal with it. See, it's not only bee stings and doctors visits they freak out about.

I wish I could just feel empathy indefinitely. I wish I could lovingly assure them that their feelings are valid somehow. Still, always after trying and trying, and listening to so much wailing and sobbing, I lose it. Especially when I'm somewhere that I can't escape it. Like in a car.

Easily Entertained

Aaron (18 months old yesterday!!) can spend hours with a plastic bag (I know, DANGER) throwing it up in the air and watching it fall down and trying to catch it. He is also constantly walking around the house with a ball in his hands tossing it up and catching it over and over. It doesn't usually go up higher than a few inches, but he's never looking at the ball. He just walks around and looks at stuff while he bounces the ball in his hands. Good fun.

David spends his time outside, riding his bike (until recently when the chain broke and now he's been wearing black and moping around the house for the last few days--not really, but we think it's kind of a miracle that he doesn't, he loved that bike so much). Or he plays inside with Aaron, teaching him to be about 30 times louder than we'd like him to be. He also teaches him such important life skills as pretending to be shot(making a shocked face, freezing with his back arched and then suddenly dropping dramatically to the floor and always, always keeping his right foot up in the air. I'll try to get some video of this). Aaron still can't feed himself cold cereal or make an "m" sound, but he can throw up a ball and catch it and fake a western movie death.

Evie, however has issues. She's "always bored." If you've ever read her blog, you are aware that this is quite a theme with her. I think being bored means she needs something to complain about, but nothing hurts her, she's not hungry and nobody is beating her up. So boredom becomes the default dilemma. She's not "in the mood" for any of the 12,000 interesting activities you suggest to her.

Well, there is one thing she sometimes wants to do, which is to play games with me, but that usually means, wait for mom to get the dinner in the oven, change Aaron's diaper, and quickly finish hanging the laundry. Then we finally sit down for a rousing game of Mastermind and after the first round realize that the dinner will be coming out very soon and there's still a salad to be made. Fortunately Evie loves to make salad dressing. And she's dang good at it too. No recipe or anything. Just a little of this and a little of that. Once it was too sweet, but we just thought of it as candied lettuce. So after the salad is ready we set the table and Mastermind goes back on the floor in the playroom, where it belongs (all board games should be stored on the floor of the room in which they are most likely to be stepped upon, in case you didn't know).

I guess I shouldn't fault her for the frequency of her boredom. She obviously needs a great deal of mental stimulation. I know this because of the kinds of math she's learning at school. Just a sec, I'm gonna run up and grab her book and give you a sample. Are these the same kinds of things kids are learning in the 5th week of fourth grade in America? I don't remember at all:
[(7x6-15)x3-17] ÷2^3 or
(59+61)x[2^3-3x(41-39)]
Well, I'm impressed. It's no wonder she's bored when she's done homework for 3 hours and then read or watched TV for an hour. She needs MORE stimulation!! Or maybe we just need to be making more salads.

And, um, I'm really nervous about the prospect of trying to help her with her sixth grade math.

* I forgot to mention that Greg is really big on the whole, "intelligent people are never bored" thing, and reminds the kids of it often. I don't think they care a whole lot about being(or being considered) intelligent at this point. They just want something FUN to do!

I Love Eviething About Her

That's not strictly true. There are a number of things she does that I'm not crazy about, but rather crazy because of. But today is my little Evie's birthday, so for today, the title feels right. (and for my readers who don't know us, we pronounce "Evie" with a short e, like in Evan (or Ewelina, for that matter), just so you know and you can read it correctly from here on out)

One of the very best, most heart-bursting moments of my life was immediately after Ewelina was born. She had been extremely stressed during the labor and there were loads of doctors around to check her out. She'd been out and breathing oxygen, screaming her tiny lungs out for about 30 seconds before Greg went to the table on which she was being examined and began talking to her in a low voice, amidst all the doctors' poking, reaching, stretching, talking and relaying information. The moment she heard him speak her name she fell silent. She just stopped crying to listen to him. And she kept listening with all the craziness that was going on around her. She recognized her daddy before she'd ever seen him, and he had the power to soothe her then, and still does today.

Today she's nine. Nine seems like a good number of things to tell you that I love about my girl.



1. She sometimes tries really hard to change her mood/attitude when she knows she's heading into a bad one. You can watch her fight against her feelings, pretending to be positive until she actually feels that way and it becomes natural again. It's really inspiring.

2. She came and laid by me on the bed in the hotel last weekend while David and Aaron were playing in the bathroom and said, "Let's talk, mom." When I asked what about she said, "Girl stuff." I loved that.

3. She's amazing at encouraging others. When she was in first grade I once had to take something to her class during school that she'd forgotten to take. When I opened the door I saw all the kids working on some art project. A boy from a few seats away was trying to get Evie's attention. I thought he was going to tell her that I was there. He wasn't. He showed her his art work and Evie smiled and said, "Wow, that looks really great!" or something and the boy sat back down in his chair with a smile on his face. There were at least three kids between them, but he wanted to show her because he knew she would give him positive feedback, and actually care to see his project.

4. She's always had a wonderful laugh. Always. It's one of my favorite sounds. She is wonderful about laughing at all of our jokes. She went through a phase of hating being the least funny one in the family. I explained to her that her gift was to make people feel great by laughing at their jokes and that that was at least as important as actually making the jokes. But really, she's getting funnier by the minute, too.

5. I totally trust her fashion sense. This probably says more about me than about her, but I love to take her along when I'm getting something for myself and ask her advice. She's a wonderful critic.

6. She loves to sing.

7. She's wonderful with her baby brother. She will watch him when I'm busy or tired and she does a great job. David has also always looked up to her, and they've been best friends for years.


8. She is a loyal friend. She stands up for her friends when others (sometimes her parents, unfortunately) question their motives/judgement.

9. She still gives great hugs. We recently realized that we hug far too infrequently and since then she comes up to me and reminds me. And she's still soft and great for hugging.

Happy Birthday to my dear girl! Here's to many more of the same (birthdays, not dear girls). You have been such a blessing in our lives!

Overheards

I was feeling unwell today. The vision in my right eye went cloudy for a few minutes (!?). After that I was dizzy off and on throughout the day. We had been planning to go to a little animal park nearby and I told David that I wasn't sure if I'd be going with them since I thought it might be better if I didn't walk around too much. Then I said,
"Actually, maybe it's because I haven't been getting enough exercise."
David replied in a feigned weak and weary voice, "Maybe it's because you haven't been getting enough chocolate."

At dinner we were talking about a serious dilemma that David currently has: he doesn't have enough money to buy himself any toys. I explained that we would give him money if he did some extra chores around the house. Greg suggested that he could pull weeds from between the paving stones in the front. David's reply? "Oh, I can't. . . my back."

Then he came up with his own: "I know, Mom. Every time I'm really nice and I read to you really well then you can give me one zloty." I was all, "Ha ha, very funny." Since one of his summer responsibilities is to read to me for about a half an hour every day anyway. His sister piped in, "David! You should be paying MOM for that. You waste her time every day!"

Yes Ev, that's a good half hour I could be on the computer! Oh, the lengths I go for my children.

You Asked for It

So I'm not a big fan of pictures of myself in general. And it's much worse when I've got the bad cut and dork glasses, which Nathan was right about in his comment on the original hair post (in that it was an unpleasant surprise when I put them on and was able to actually SEE how they look from farther than one nose length away--although for me that may be farther than it is for some).

I had Greg take a couple pictures, all of which gave me the neck of a football player, and were therefore unuseable (obviously). I decided it might be less objectionable and more informative if I shot some video so you could see all three dimensions of it. So Evie shot some for me, and I was being an excellent guide and explaining everything for y'all. Then we realized that the cheap little camera we were using doesn't have a mic. Good thing I've got the gestures going on so you know where you're supposed to look and everything. I present you with 10 seconds of Lisa's new hair and glasses:



Then I decided to also try another shot, but this time holding Aaron to bring this post a much needed element of cuteness that was desperately lacking with just the video. He doesn't have a new haircut, but he's got some glasses that he loves to wear around the house (they were Evie's and that's why they have flowers on them. That's also why he only wears them around the house.) Evie took this one for us, too! If this continues, I may have to increase her allowance! Oh wait, she doesn't get an allowance.

Then I thought, as long as I was addressing commenters, I might as well address Andrea, who mentioned-also in the comments- having once flipped my hair up. I think I might sort of vaguely remember that, but one thing I DO know is that I love hair flipped up! With this haircut I can flip it up in the back, as well as doing it under as seen here. I dislike it both ways equally. But I think Evie looks the cutest with her hair flipped.



So, if you feel inclined to comment, keep in mind that a) I'm very into honesty, and b) you can't go wrong, as you'll either be commiserating with me, or assuring me that it's not as bad as it seems. Win-win.

Seeking Therapy

I know that I probably need therapy for many reasons, but for now, I'm just thinking about it for my kids.

Today, just as I was about to get in the shower, I suddenly heard screaming from outside. In a second, I recognized it as coming from Ewelina. I quickly threw on my clothes, assuming the whole time that the screaming would abate, but it did not. I ran outside.

David was running from the kids' "baza" or "base"--their hideout in the field across the street from our house. I kept running and David showed me how to get in through the tall grass to get to Evie, who was still screaming. I'm thinking "broken bone, dog attack, torture by monsters"- something terrible. I came through the weeds and saw that she was sitting on one of the little green plastic chairs that they'd taken there, holding on to her foot. She told me that she thought a bee had stung her. I looked at her foot and saw that, indeed, there was a tiny little stinger that looked more like an itsy bitsy sliver stuck in the arch of her left foot. I carried her wailing and sobbing, on my back, back to our house. (To find that we were locked out, but that part of the story doesn't really go with the rest of this post, so I'm leaving it out--er, I meant to).

For those of you who have spent any extended amount of time with my children, you already know how they can freak out at times. Like when a fly buzzes anywhere near them. Or when a puppy, not to mention a full grown chihuahua glances in their direction (these are David's). Or maybe it's the anticipation of a visit to the dentists office, or getting a sliver--or (and this causes 20 times the level of out-freaking) the thought of having that sliver removed!

Any of these things will cause my children to cry. Possibly to scream, and just generally wig out. When they were smaller, we thought it was just the normal childhood phobias. We tried being very understanding and supportive. We held them and soothed them. Then we tried being practical and instructive, showing by our own calm manner and explanations why everything was okay, and how best to deal with the situation. We tried various combinations of these two techniques. Sometimes we have resorted to a third: threatening and shouting. Admittedly, the threatening and shouting were not used so much as a "technique" but rather came out of our frustration and sense of helplessness, and search for any way to get them to calm down. (All good parents know that threats DO sometimes work.)

It's entirely possible some of you are thinking "Yelling at a kid who is afraid of something?" But that would only be because you haven't been around during some of these fits. They are entirely out of control. They care not for empathy. They care not for guidance. They care not for threatenings. Left to themselves the hysteria continues indefinitely. They are in their own little world of terror, and we don't know how to bring them out of it. That's why I think I need to take them to a counselor.

Evie sobbed and cried for about 20 minutes until Greg came and opened the door for us, and then kicked it back up to hysteria for the 10 minutes before she would let me remove it, when we actually had to force her down so I could do it, or we would have waited endlessly until she felt "ready". It took a quarter of a second and she didn't feel a thing. I know a bee sting is a scary thing (though I've never had one), but this just reminded me of the other panic attacks and made me wonder what kind of a doctor we need to take our kids to.

Mom Tag

I've seen this before, so when Andrea tagged me on it, I thought I would do it, even though it really needs a 3 or 4 year old to make it great. A sassy 6 year old works too, I guess. David's answers are first, then I did Evie, too.

What is something mom always says to you? "David, bring Aaron's blanky, and his pacifier" "Clean up"

What makes mom happy? When we are peeling the potatoes. You said that it was a blessing. "cards from me"

What makes mom sad? (after 5 minutes of thinking) When I play too much games on the computer. "When I fight with David"

How does mom make you laugh? When you tickle me, and tickle and tickle, so giggly. "by saying something funny on accident"

What was mom like as a child? "She was cute and sweet and nice. "silly, I guess"

How old is mom? 82? "31"

How tall is mom? 22 cm (after poking me and counting from my feet to my head) 'metr osiemdziesiat siesc. That might be really tall, I dont' know."

What is mom's favorite thing to do? She likes to play with Aaron outside, kind of. And checking emails. "bake and read"

What does mom do when you're not around? She plays with Aaron. "watches TV"

If mom becomes famous, what will it be for? That you exercise every day and you change Aaron's diaper. "for fun"

What is mom really good at? She's very good at checking emails. "making dinner"

What is mom not very good at?  I don't know."Polish. Speaking Polish"

What is mom's job? Teaching me at home. For now. "she doesn't work, oh, oh, oh, taking care of the kids"

What is mom's favorite food? Everything? Sweet and sour chicken? "not pizza...enchiladas?"

What makes you proud of mom? That you teach me how to jumprope, kind of. "she doesn't get frustrated very often"

If mom were a cartoon character, who would she be? She would be Cinderella ([I asked him why]because you have like a sweet little voice and you have a nice dress)"Velma--you look lik her, but you're different"

What do you and mom do together? Play games. "play games, learn and jumprope."

How are you and mom the same? We're both funny (giggle, giggle) "we both have glasses. We're the only girls in thefamily"

How are you and mom different? I'm smaller and she's bigger. She's a girl, I'm a boy. And she wears earrings. "you have pierced ears and I don't. And you're big and I'm small."

How do you know mom loves you? Because she plays games with me and she tickles me. "she loves playing with me and And she's just my mom."

This is really meant to be for one kid, but I wanted to include Evie's answers to have a bit of seriousness. She and David TOTALLY tag Brian B., Isaac J., Lily D. (or her little sister), Ethan W., Ella (KC's niece) and Zeeb (or Calvin) K.--only if their mothers want to help them out, of course, but we would LOVE to see what they think of their mommies!

**David actually thought I was 82. I asked him to be serious (he was joking for many of his answers) and he said "83?"
**Yesterday the kids peeled potatoes for the first time, and were excited about it. I was very glad because I abhor peeling potatoes, though I love eating them, and I now have my own potato peelers. While we were eating I told Greg that the kids had peeled the potatoes for me. David jumped in with "mom said it was a blessing". I took some convincing, but I guess I DID say that. Good reminder that kids will always remember more of what you say than you do.
**I have neither a sweet little voice nor a nice dress, but I am like Cinderella in some ways--I do slave away all day, and I did win me a handsome prince!

Last Week in Review: Ewelina

Remember this girl? This is her last Tuesday.

Here she is last Friday, the last day of school with her best friends, Patrycia and Ania and then in her classroom with Aaron. Notice anything different?


*Side note: This was the end of her last year with her current teacher. In Poland a class has the same teacher for grades 1-3, then switches to a new one for grades 4-6, but the same kids stay together for the entire 6 years (!). Also, her class next year will be in a separate building from the one she's been in, so this really was like a mini graduation for her, which has absolutely nothing to do with the length of her hair.

What Happens When You Mix Languages

At lunch we were eating a pear. I said, "This pear is soczysta." Evie replied, "Pewnie bardzo dobrze ją umyłaś."

(If you don't speak Polish: soczysta=juicy, czysta=clean Evie's reply can be translated, "You must have washed it very well.")

Home Again, Home Again, Jiggity Jig

I'm dancing because I got my girl back today! Not really actually dancing, because I have this migraine coming and going yesterday and today, and I wouldn't want to upset it, but dancing inside.

While she was gone we had NO contact with her. They had our number so we could be contacted in case of an emergency, but other than that NO CONTACT. Evie said that they were told that they should write to their parents every day, but when we were packing and as we were finding the cutest stationary for her to take she said, "Mom, don't be surprised if I don't write to you, okay?" Thanks, Ev! Guess how many letters we got from her. That's right! Zero.

When they came back we were so relieved to find out that only 3 girls, of the 40 or so that went, became seriously ill while they were there. And only ONE had to have an operation right there in that foreign country. That was one of Evie's closest friends. She's still there in the hospital (her parents went down to be with her, of course). Evie, a very unpicky eater, said that the food was pretty terrible. I think the illness was some stomach issue. Hmmmm.

They had a dance, the highlight of which was supposed to be this enormous cake. The cake came the day after the dance. We bought her new shoes right before the trip and only ONE of them came back broken (we can have it fixed, though). She only left one pair of underpants and one sock there.

For some reason, before she left, I envisioned her with her friends all going into the bathroom at night to wash faces and brush teeth together. It was going to be so fun and slumber party-ish. Well, apparently nine year-olds aren't so into stuff like that. When she came home she told us that she had only brushed her teeth once the whole time. That's ONCE in almost SIX days! Yikes. She said that all the girls kept forgetting. She mentioned that her friend, Ewa, has this whitening toothpaste and she said it's amazing. Ewa brushed her teeth and showed her friends the difference even after one brushing and they were all struck dumb with the whiteness. Uh, I think it may possibly have had something to do with the fact that her teeth had 4 days worth of yellow plaque covering them before she brushed.

They went to a castle, a cave, an open air museum, went on lots of hikes, and went swimming a few times. She had TONS of fun.

She brought Greg a cute little key chain leather backpack, David a mini pack of cards, Aaron a little stuffed sheep, which he keeps mooing at and throwing across the room, and me a bracelet with little black and brown wooden beads, which I LOVE and plan on wearing until it falls apart.

The number of pounds I lost while she was gone exactly matches the number of letters we received from her. I don't think there is any correlation between those two things. Man, if there was, I would have made sure she wrote me three letters each day!

Ev

Evie is getting so big. It's so strange to have a child that has been baptized. It makes me feel my responsibility more than ever. Ewelina is getting more and more interested in learning about the gospel. She seems to remember even very little things she was told long ago and fit them into place in her deepening understanding of doctrine. I love it.

Last night we read something from Revelation in our family scripture study. Afterwards we talked a little about John and in the end I mentioned that it's entirely possible that he attends church on Sundays in a white shirt and tie, but people just don't know who he is. Greg said that he can't really tell people who he is. Evie smiled and stuck her hand out and pretended to give a handshake saying, "Hello, I'm John the Revelator!"

That reminded me a little of a few years ago. At Easter time we were talking about the Easter story. Ewelina was listening intently the whole time. When we came to the part about Mary Magdelene weeping outside the tomb when Christ appears to her. We explained that she was still crying because she didn't recognize Him at first. She thought maybe He was a gardener. Ewelina responded right away, "Woah! Shiny gardener!"

Last week she had to write a poem for school about Spring. She did such a great job, I thought I'd include it here (plus, she just loved how her cousin had a poem of hers posted by her mom, so I'll do the same for her):

WIOSNA

Wiosna,
to pora roku radosna.
To młoda, barwna dama,
co nigdy nie jest sama.
Bo z nią się budzą rośliny,
odwiedzają ją ptaki,
cieszą się dziewczyny
tak samo jak chłopaki.

Okay, I recognize that there is a CHANCE that some of you don't speak, or at least read Polish, so I'll translate, but it will lose the rhythm and rhyme, which is, of course, half the beauty of it.

SPRING

Spring
is a joyful time of year.
It is a young, colorful lady,
who is never alone,
for the plants awake with her,
the birds visit her.
Girls rejoice,
as do boys.

Yes, it definitely lost something there. Especially the last two lines... Still pretty good, though, eh?
(I just revised the last two lines and they're a bit better--closer to the polish (thanks Greg for giving the word rejoice, I knew cieszyć się was stronger than to be happy...)--but still not the same)