Today, and My Kids Can't Speak English.

We are Gregless this weekend. He is making his way to Warsaw on invitation to attend the District Conference there. On our trip last weekend when he left us in the hotel for the day he told the kids, "Be good and helpful today, guys. When I come back I want a wife with hair." Today he didn't say anything like that, I'm sure because he knows I have this day planned out. Cleaning, reading, story writing, M&M eating, homeworking, baking, movie watching; it's gonna be awesome.

After some cleaning we sat down to our chicken Caesar salad for lunch. Aaron pointed to the bag of Parmesan and said, "I don't like to eat this sugar. It's yucky." I have to say, I think it's the grosses sugar I've ever eaten, too.

While we ate, I asked our well-travelled children where on the road to Warsaw they thought daddy was. They calculated that he had been driving about two hours and David guessed he might be in Kraków about then. Or maybe Kielce. Evie guessed that he was probably somewhere between Kielce and Kraków. This, of course, is only funny if you know Poland or have a map in front of you. The kids only know that our two nearest branches are each about two hours away and they are Kielce and Krakow so Greg must be in one of those two cities, right? (or somewhere in between). Never mind where they are situated compared to Warsaw. Or each other.

********

Aaron is my first child who makes all the cute grammatical errors you expect of a two/three year old. He does not use past tense. Instead he uses did+present tense. Always. Very scriptural of him.

I have no idea why he does this. He comes to me excitedly declaring, "I did find my dinosaur!" I say, "Oh, great job! Where was it?" and he says, "It did be in the play room."

Last night David was explaining why he got an A+ on an assignment and he said, "So I was supposed to write a zadanie (story problem) and I did it really good, so my--". I cut him off with a "What?". Knowing what I meant he answered, "I did it really good...ly?"

I really wish my boys did speak English more goodly.
(not really. I appreciate the laughs I get out of their mistakes.)
Now excuse me while I get back to our excellent Saturday.

Mourning Temporarily

Last night after I changed Spencer, I left the room to throw the diaper away and wash my hands. When I came back he was still laying right where I'd changed him, half asleep. It was an hour earlier than he normally goes to bed but I decided to put him down anyway, he was so sleepy.

He and I both have colds so we stayed home while Greg took everyone else to church. In the quiet house this morning I realized something. Before I put Spencer down last night I didn't nurse him. I've been doing only the one feeding right before bed for the last two months or so. In recent weeks it is more and more symbolic and less and less to provide any sort of nourishment. I have been planning to quit completely for the last week or so. This morning I realized that, just like that: it's all over.

And I sob.

I have spent four and a half years of my life nursing my babies. There have been times when I almost would rather have died and times when I was sure it was not worth it. I have often been forced to sit down and cuddle my baby to me when I did not have time or to retrain a newborn who seemed to suddenly forget how he had been getting his sustenance for days or weeks before.

I have spent countless hours pondering the wonder of being able to feed my babies any time I need to, to provide everything their little bodies require. I think about my body and the miracle it is and all that it has done for the people I love most in all the world. I think about how much that love has grown in the days and weeks and months of cumulative hours I have spent gazing down at a sweetly nursing baby. How grateful I am for that. For all of it. The good and the difficult.

And suddenly I have come to the end of it all. And I can't bear it. How do people bear these things, "The Lasts"?

My life is so full. I love my children dearly and find it hard to contain the excitement and happiness I experience watching them learn new things every day. A toy drops and Spencer says, "Uhhh-oooooooh" for the first time, his lips forming the cutest little "O" as he says it. Aaron comes up with the idea to bring a stool to the stove where I'm making "crunchy cheese" for him. Climbing on it he says, "Oh! Now I can see betterly!" David gets his first retainer and is so excited to feel that the protruding tooth he's been hating for years is starting to move backward and I know he will be way too handsome. Evie pulls me into another room, excited to tell me about the "Między nami Kobietami" ("Between us Women") maturation class she had at school.

So many firsts, all the time.

Right now I mourn this last.The grief is real and the sobs are deep. Does it go away, this ache in your heart when one of the most important, challenging and fulfilling things of the last 12 years of your life has ended? Forever?

I will keep a more vigilant eye open for "firsts" and rejoice in all the good things my babies bring into my life today. And tomorrow. And I will content myself with the feeling that somehow I will have all the yesterdays back. I don't know how it works but I know that one day I will have a fullness of joy, and that can only mean that these experiences will be part of me, as they are now, but without the tragedy of their being only a memory.

What My Kids Learn in Primary

Today we attended the Kielce Branch. It meets in the missionaries' apartment. Sacrament meeting and Sunday school meet in one room and we usually have Primary in the living room. Today, though, they were watching a conference talk in the living room so I taught Primary in the other room. Here's how it went down.

Of course it was just me and my own kids. It was time to feed Spencer so I was nursing him while we had a lesson about prayer. Aaron was sitting there very nice and attentive during the opening song and prayer. Before I got into the lesson I decided to help him feel included by having us sing Jesus Wants Me for a Sunbeam. At that point he became very offended and got out of his seat and was generally an enormous pain (because how dare I suggest we sing a song he knows and likes!?!).

Spencer wasn't eating peacefully. Off, on, off, on. Smile at mom, sit up. On, off. Ugh. Ugh. Meanwhile I was having a discussion with Ev and David that I felt was very important. And Aaron was telling us how he hates apple juice (meaning we didn't have any and he wanted some) and whining. And I was trying to not lose my temper with him while also trying to keep our discussion going and getting Spencer to take more than one gulp at a time before coming off.

While this was going on Evie and David had answered my question as to why we pray. I repeated their answers. "To give thanks for our blessings, ask for other blessings and to talk to our Father. Good. Okay, what are some other reasons we pray?"

After a very short pause I backed up and said, "Well, that's good enough. Those are the most important reasons we pray."

Before I could move on to the next question Evie said, "Okaaaaaay. What are the less important reasons?"

And then we laughed. And I was glad. I was in desperate need of some comic relief.

(Five) Thousand Word Thursday: Brothers (phone shots)

Whenever Spencer is doing this:

Aaron is doing this:

A Father and His Kids (Sunday Edition)

Ewelina:

There is a tradition among Polish kids that they take a little journal to school and have their classmates sign it or draw in it or write little poems. It's not at the end of the year or anything, just any old time. Evie asked me and Greg to write in hers and here is what Greg wrote for her:

Dawno, dawno temu, za wieloma górami
Mieszkało w niebie dziewczę z braćmi i siostrami.
Jej Ojciec był bogiem - nic więc dziwnego, że chciał
Dać wszystko swej córce - nawet wszystko to, co miał.

Stworzył więc ziemię piękna, dla drogiej swej córy
A na niej morza, lądy i skaliste góry.
A w górach tamtych leży Szczęśliwa Dolinka;
I tam właśnie przyszła na ten świat Ewelinka.

I odkąd tu żyje - nie przestaje się uczyć
Pomagać, pracować, przebaczać oraz służyć
Zło od dobra odróżniać i zawsze się starać
Wybierać to, co dobre a co złe obalać.

Bo wie i też rozumie, że sprawa to słuszna,
Gdy Boga nie widać - nadal jest mu posłuszna.
I tak dziewczynka ta i wszystkie Boga dzieci
Powrócą kiedyś do tego, który dał im życie.

I tam żyć będą z Bogiem - wesołe i szczęśliwe
Bo podczas tej próby wybrali, co właściwe.

I can't translate the poetry of it (which I love), but I can sort of capture the content (the author was unavailable to help me translate).

Long, long ago and far, far away,
A girl lived in heaven with her brothers and sisters.
Her Father was God, so it's no surprise that he wanted
To give his daughter everything, even all that he had.

So he created a beautiful world for his dear daughter
And placed on it seas, lands and rocky mountains.
In those very mountains there lies a Happy Valley
And that is where he sent Ewelina into the world.

And as long as she lives here she will never stop learning
To help, to work, to forgive and to serve;
Distinguish good from evil and always try
To choose what is good and avoid evil.

Because she knows and understands that it's right
That although she can't see God, she still obey Him.
And that's how this little girl and all of God's children
Will return one day to the One who gave them life.

And there they will live with God - happy and joyful
Because during this life, they chose what was right.

(signed "Earthly Father")



David:

One Sunday when we weren't able to go to church Greg asked everyone to bring in their Book of Mormon* so we could do some scripture study. David said, "I don't know where mine is."

Greg replied in a mock angry voice, "See David! That's the difference between you and Joseph Smith. He found the Book of Mormon and YOU lost it!"

Aaron:

A few Sundays ago Greg put Music and the Spoken Word on the computer for us to listen to in the background while we all went about our business. I was in the kitchen, the kids were drawing or something but this is what Aaron was doing:

Notice the straight back. He sat this way through the whole program and would not let us talk to him or even kiss him on the cheek. He is very serious about his Sabbath day observance.

*I will not spark controversy by inserting an "s" to pluralize "Book of Mormon". I personally consider it a title and put the s after Mormon, but you're welcome to put it after Book in your mind if you so desire.

Halloween in Poland

Well, they don't celebrate it. It's considered a very pagan American holiday (which is pretty much what it is, except I think it originated in England). Still, you can find a few Halloween decorations and costumes in large stores and probably some teens "celebrate" it in bigger cities.

We always do something at home, since there's no trick-or-treating. A couple of years ago the kids had a party and invited friends from school. They were all so confused when they saw Evie dressed as a ballerina. Ballerinas aren't scary! They thought you have to be something frightening.

As I say, I always try to do something Halloweenish. This year we did the usual stuff, but the kids made almost all the preparations.

"We" carved a pumpkin: Greg (who hates Halloween) did the artistic part, the kids scooped out the "monster teeth" (all while I took a nap). Note the little hanging decorations the kids made a few days ago for the stairs.

We played Halloween Bingo by candle light: the kids drew the pictures on the cards (spiders, witches hats, eyeballs etc.).

We played with slime: I just put the potato flour and water and bowls on the table and let them make it for themselves (no green food coloring or anything).

As usual I hid the candy around the living room and they searched for it by candle light.

Then we watched The Legend of Sleepy Hollow and ate dirt dessert with worms.

And there you have a lazy mother's Halloween.

******

As a heavily (95%) Catholic country, they celebrate All Saints day on November 1st and the Day of the Dead (not sure if that's what you call it in English) on the second. This is a very lovely holiday when everyone visits the graves of their loved ones. The cemeteries are amazing, all lit up with hundreds of candles. Even though we live far from the graves of any family members, we always visit a nearby cemetery just to walk around. It's magical. Here's proof (from a few years ago):

It's also a big drinking holiday (any excuse will do in Poland :), and as it falls on a Sunday this year we'll be staying off the roads, meaning no going to church. This is one of those holidays that they give statistics on the news every night about how many drunk drivers were stopped etc.

But those cemeteries are gorgeous.

Growing Up

In the last month David turned eight, Evie turned 10 and Aaron is exactly 2 1/2 today. That's why I'm posting some stuff they've said recently.

I really hope that during these months when all I want to do is curl up on my bed and be alone, but am forced to do a Very Large number of things that are NOT that, that I'm able to balance out all my grouchiness and excessive yelling with enough of fun and love that my kids will remember that I DO love them! Normally I consider a "balance" to be maybe 3/4 good with 1/4 bad (at most) (this is probably WAY too much bad, but I have to be realistic). These days if those statistics are switched I think I've done very well. Ugh.

Evie:

I was explaining how to drive while taking the kids to school one day. "Now I'm slowly taking my left foot off the clutch and slowly pushing on the gas with my right. Now I'm taking my right foot off the gas, pushing down on the clutch with my left and changing gears. . . etc. etc." The whole way. They were shocked to find out how hard it was. I explained that it's especially tricky because there are three pedals that you use constantly, but you only have two feet so you have to do a lot of going back and forth.

Evie said, "Woah! Hey mom, did you ever get your two feet tied in a braid while you were driving?"

David:

We were extremely low on food and I went into the kitchen to find David standing in front of the baking supply cupboard. I jokingly said, "Oh! I guess we really don't have anything to eat if you're sneaking baking soda and cinnamon!" But I realized my baking chocolate is in there too, so I asked what he was eating. He held out his hand. It had a blotch of cinnamon on it. Which he'd been licking. Plain.

After watching Top Gear together one night we went upstairs for the boys' showers. While I was washing his hair David asked, "Why in England do they always say 'it costs' instead of 'it weighs'" I didn't know what he meant so asked him to clarify, but it kept coming down to the British saying that something cost how much it weighed. I finally realized that he was talking about when they are giving specs on a car and they say that it costs xxxx pounds. How confusing!

Aaron:

I've only written one set of articles in the last month (love that). When I did I was pressed for time so I set little goals. I was supposed to have the first two done by 2:30. After helping David with some homework I came in to get started when Aaron asked me SO cutely to read him a book, so I sat down with him, beginning my reading with a little, "Oh, Aaron! At this rate mommy's never gonna reach her goal!" He looked up at me, raised both of his hands above his head and said, "GOOOAAAAAL!!!" which he and his brother are constantly screaming when they play soccer in the hallway.

They can also be found lying on the floor with their heads together looking at a book. All the time. Anywhere in the house. I caught them in the play room one morning looking at David's little scout book.

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.

Polishing My Children's Americanism

Moody asked: How is growing up in Poland going to affect your kids (meaning what kind of person they will become), vs if they were growing up in the US?

My kids won't be as used to meeting and making new friends. Their first three years of elementary school are spent with the same teacher. Their first six years are spent with the same set of kids. They are not forced into a new environment every year. I both love and hate this. Still, my kids are pretty outgoing, and I hope they can hold on to that throughout their lives.

My kids will (do) have stronger shoulders and backs than American kids. There are no desks, just tables and chairs, so the kids have to carry all their books and supplies to and from school every day. Now that Evie is in fourth grade, she changes classrooms every lesson (all the same kids stay together, they just move from room to room) and lugs all her books around to each one.

My kids eat fewer processed foods. They don't have all the interesting and fun snack foods that you have in the States. There are maybe two or three different kinds of crackers (Oh how I miss Cheez-its and Wheat Thins!) no fruit snacks and hardly any freezer stuff like corn dogs, bagel bites, and chicken nuggets. I mean, they have chicken nuggets of some sort, but like a tiny box of them. But I think I wouldn't buy them much even if I lived in the States.

My kids will never learn how to drink from a drinking fountain. Seriously. They love them so much and practice every time we see one when we're in the States, but they both still are about on the 18 month old level (loud slurping noises, tongue often seen outside of mouth [lick, lick] water all down chin/in nose etc.) I've demonstrated countless times, but really, how do you explain, "purse your lips, sort of close the back of your throat with your tongue and then suck a little bit at a time. . .?" It takes loads of practice. (nearest drinking fountain is in the Freiberg, Germany temple)

My kids will always get an A in their English classes. Last week David had a substitute in his English class and she was holding up pictures of animals and the kids were supposed to call out the name in English. Amidst all the calls of "Dack!" There was one little boy who called out, "It's a duck!" The teacher stopped, put down the picture and said, "David!! Do you know how to speak English?" (only she used a slang word for talk which means more like chatter or blabber or something) And she was so excited when he said he could (but she kept speaking to him in Polish about it, even though he answered her in English).

My kids might stand out more than kids in America in terms of their culture and religion, and learn to defend and talk about it at an earlier age. Everything from why they aren't bundled like an Eskimo to why they don't want any tea, thanks, to why they don't attend religion classes etc. Evie has had a teacher ask her how she knows that her church is true and after Evie explained about the Holy Ghost, her teacher told her that those are just her own thoughts and feelings. She has had a caring friend ask why she doesn't pray, and has explained that she DOES pray, just in a more "talking to God" sort of a way. Since then she has had enough birthday parties with blessings said over the food that all her friends understand that she does pray. And more often than they do. (I know kids everywhere have some of these opportunities, of course)
When we visit Greg's parents (they are Catholic) we always ask a blessing on the food. His dad calls on one of us, my father and mother-in-law never say the prayers, but my FIL always lets us know that this is how it should be (meaning that even though they don't do it themselves, and never have, he feels that it is right). We also read scriptures and have family prayer with them in the evenings and they are surprised and delighted by how much the kids understand.

My kids will have to work harder at honesty. Honesty is just not highly valued in this country yet. There is still lots of corruption left over from Communism and the "take what you can get by whatever means necessary" attitude is still very prevalent. My children stick out like a sore thumb on this issue, and I know they will have loads of temptation (I know they would in the States, too, but for sure it will be harder here). I think they're up for the challenge, though. I wrote about dishonesty in Poland/the kid's school here.

So these aren't maybe about what kind of people my kids will be because of growing up in Poland, but it hopefully gives you an idea. I hope that my kids will be both tough and tolerant. Tough enough to stand up for themselves with all the teasing and trials that will come from having a Mormon American background in such a Polish Catholic country and that they will learn love and tolerance for the really interesting religious beliefs and customs of the people around them.

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!

Have Your Cake and Eat It Tuesday

Okay, so this isn't actually cake, but today is actually Tuesday, and since I came up with the name, I'm taking liberties and allowing myself the postage of recipes for any sweets without my having to change it to Have Your Cookies and Eat Them Tuesday. That really loses something, don't you think?

So these are cookies. I'll tell you all about how much I adore these cookies in a moment, but first I need to tell you about a very unfortunate side effect they have on me. When I eat them, I kick myself. And the more of them I eat, the more I love them and the more I kick myself. It's looks kind of stupid and doesn't feel great either. If you're thinking of making these, read further to see if you might be susceptible to these same side effects.

They are Chocolate Malt Sandwiches from Martha Stewart's website. I don't actually go onto that site looking for recipes, but I often find her recipes recommended on blogs I read. This one I saw at Cookie Madness. They are delicious. But then, I'm a major fan of malt. I make them and keep them in the fridge. They are so rich and sweet that even I can only eat about 4 of them in a sitting (okay, so that's basically 8 cookies, plus the filling, but whatever). Then I have to wait a full 30 minutes before I'm ready for another.

Do you know what it is about these cookies that makes me kick myself? It's not because I'm trying to keep myself from taking in the calories (heaven knows I'm not at a place where I worry about that as much as I should). So why the masochism? I'll tell you why.

When we were staying at my mother's house on our last trip to America, she had picked up a few things that I had requested from the grocery store. See, I try to get as much of the things that you can't get in Poland while we're in the States as I can. But I also have to make sure it will all fit in my luggage and not be too much for me to travel with (especially when I'm doing a marathon run of going back and forth across the country in two weeks, by myself with three children in tow). One of the things I'd requested this time was malt powder.

I love chocolate malts. I love Fuddruckers chocolate malts. I love Dalt's* chocolate malts. With curly cheese fries. After a tri-Stake dance late on a Saturday night. (I love that I wondered why my skin was never clear in High School.) They don't have chocolate malts in Poland. They don't even have malt powder. Oh, they have plenty of MALT. The kind you can drink even, if you know what I mean. But I'm not that kind of girl. So I'm left to make my own chocolate malted milk shakes. I don't do this a lot and they don't require all that much malt powder, so when I saw that my mother had bought 3 containers of malt, I thanked her kindly but was afraid I couldn't/shouldn't bring more than one back with me because of space/weight limitations. Especially considering I was already bringing 8 pounds of brown sugar with me, among other things (guess how long eight pounds of brown sugar lasts at Lisa's house? 2 months? Maybe.).

Did you read the sentence before last? Three containers of malt! I did not accept them! I am an idiot! And now I am an idiot with no malt powder because I found this wonderful recipe, made it twice, and ran out. I could make these cookies 4-5 more times if I had had the foresight to accept what was already purchased for me! Kick, kick, kick!

*I just read that Dalt's closed in 2005!! This is a travesty! I will be in mourning for the next few days. I can't believe it. I just can't believe it. I seek the comfort of family and friends who have also loved that place.
If you give these cookies to your kids, they might react this way:

Then they might start in on them like this:

They might realize that there's some filling in there. Mmmmm:

Once they realize what it is they're eating they will continue to partake, now with only a slightly confused expression:

Chomp, chomp chomp:

Remember I said they were really sweet and rich?:

Your kids might really enjoy them, too. If you're nice enough to share!

Name Dropping and a Princess' Progress

Actually, I'm not going to drop any names (cheers from the audience) because I don't think princesses do that sort of thing, and the point of this post is to show just how princessy I'm getting to be.

Remember on the princess post, I mentioned in the footnotes that I once made a silly sarcastic remark to an important church authority that I've been feeling bad about ever since? Well, we had the opportunity to meet with one again, and I thought this would be a great chance for me to test how much I've improved.

We met in the Mission Home with just a total of 5 couples. It was a cozy little group. We had a little updating/counsel giving session while dinner was being prepared. This man (the visiting one) stood up when we came in and gave me his chair. The only stuffed armchair in the room. The one that was placed next to where his wife was sitting. And he sat on a dining chair by Greg. I tried to protest a little, but I hate being too annoying and refuseful about stuff like that, so I finally just sat down, in hopes of not making a scene. Then I felt a little uncomfortable for the entire 20-30 minutes before we ate. I mean, I know I'm a princess and all (so are you, remember? Unless, of course, you're a prince) but I sure didn't love sitting on that throne! Whatever. What's done is done, right? Princesses don't dwell.

But guess what? Looking back, I didn't say anything that I'm embarrassed about! Did I say anything sarcastic? Of course I did. I would have felt even sillier if I'd just sat there staring the whole time. And since sarcasm escapes every time I open my mouth, there it was. But it was the okay kind. I'm pleased about that. I done good.
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And guess what today was?

Cheers and tears. (and starting tomorrow you'll be able to see Evie's eyes in pictures because she's getting new glasses!)

When they came home today, the first thing David told me, which means it was obviously the highlight of his day, was this: "Guess how my English teacher says 'footprints?' 'Feetpreents!'"(with a rolled "r", like in Spanish) Glad to know that he's excited about all the important stuff he's gonna learn.

Where Do You Keep YOUR Friends?

We used to live in an apartment complex that covered about the amount of ground that two houses would cover, and there were 45 apartments in it (it was 12 stories high). This should have been a haven of children with which our children could be children. Unfortunately there were only a few children in our building of the appropriate age, and our children weren't all that interested in being children with them (we're kind of glad).

Then we moved into this house. One of the first things I didn't like about this place was that it's so spread out around here. There would certainly be even less socialization with neighbors here than in the apartment, if that was possible. If the kids managed to find some other kids their age, we would probably have to walk with them a few blocks anytime they wanted to get together. For the first few wintry months here, though, we were kind of just an island to ourselves.

Then came Summer, and with it friends! LOTS of friends. As in Evie and David have friends coming out of their ears. First it was one boy just down the street. Then they met the grandchildren (2 boys) of the neighbors who live behind us. Then our neighbors in the house that's stuck to us moved in, and they have a boy, too. Then Evie met some (3) girls at the park and they started hanging out and walking around the neighborhood together, a cute little gang of pink and sparkly, pony-tailed chatterboxes. (I asked Evie what they do when they're together and she says, "we mostly just talk." It's a weird day when your kid "mostly just talks" to their friends. Am I really old enough to have kids that age?) Then we met our right-across-the-street neighbors who have a boy and a girl, each 2 years older than their Pawlik counterpart. It seems none of them mind the age disparity and currently these are the friends the kids spend most of their time with. As in, they met about a week ago and have stopped coming home for lunch and have already asked if they can have a sleepover, etc. Unfortunately these guys will be moving back to Spain for the school year in 3 weeks! :(

At dinner the kids were talking about one friend. Greg asked how old he was. They said he was nine. I said, "Wait, I thought you said he was ten?" I loved Evie's explanation. She said, "Well, first he was ten, then he was ten and a half, and now he's nine." Love that. Another of the kid's friends likes to brag about all the awesome grown up stuff he does. He tells them things like how his dad gives him a little beer every day* (he's eight--or so he says...). Or how when no one else is home he smokes. Greg overheard one of these bragging sessions one day and appreciated David's response.
Friend: I just drank 5 cans of Pespi.
David: (half interrupting and saying it all strung together) Yeah. Uh, huh. Wow. Oh really? I don't believe you. Uh huh. That's great.

Whereas I, being away from it all as I am, keep most of my friends in my computer, my kids apparently keep theirs in their heads because why else would they be coming out of their ears? I tried to tell them that friends don't belong in their heads, and couldn't they see that they weren't staying in there very well. Apparently they didn't listen because the friends just keep coming and coming. And not the kind that people usually keep in their heads (imaginary ones). Although, I guess you could say who knows how much of them is real and how much of them really is imaginary (i.e. age, drinking habits, etc.)
*This is, of course possible. I remember a family that I nannied for. The father was a wine connoisseur and would let their barely two year old daughter repeatedly dip her finger in his wine at dinner every night. The mom protested and rolled her eyes just about every single time.

For People Who Care

Or mostly for my kids (and myself) who love to come on my blog and watch whatever videos are posted here, especially our favorites, like this one. I think in this one I was pregnant with Aaron but didn't know it until about a week after we got home from the trip. So he was there with us, he was just too small to see. Oh, and he was a little hidden anyway, I guess.

In this one Greg has used another song from the same album as the one with Aaron singing at 7 months. I know it's a strange genre (Polish folk punk?) but we love it and the footage really brings back the feel of that awesome (only three day!) vacation. So I'm posting it here. It's about a haunted forest (ooooooo!). Cousins might like it.

Just My Type

I love typing! It's fun (or it's still fun, just like driving a car is still fun to me). In Poland people don't know how to type. I'm sure this is a gross generalization, and probably in the upcoming generations more people are learning, but generally speaking, in this country things are kept on paper (not printer paper, I'm talking paper and pen paper).

Of course there ARE computers. Lots of them. In fact you often see them on the news when they mention some government department and show a lady behind a desk pecking away with both her pointer fingers, often reaching over with her right hand to hit an "e". They actually get to be pretty quick at it, and it's fun to watch. It isn't, however, very efficient. And I think this country could be significantly more productive if people learned to type (this is probably an oversimplification, and of course many people own personal computers these days, as well). The problem is, they don't offer typing courses in school.

I took beginning typing in 9th grade. Mr. Shaw was a tall, loud, slightly obnoxious man with wild, curly black hair. We used typewriters (!). He would shout, " A! S! D! F! A! S! D! F!" and we would all feel awesome punching in the right buttons, as displayed on our grayish sheet of recycled type paper, without even looking at our hands. Maybe he wasn't all that loud in real life, but he was in a room full of typewriters, and typewriters that were being used, so he HAD to yell. He spent all day yelling and probably went home and yelled at his family (without realizing it, I mean).

It was kind of hard to think about the letters sometimes though, because Mark Janji was in that class. And I could see him from where I sat. What a dream. He was tall, very thin, very tan, with light hazel (I think) eyes and dark wavy hair that he styled perfectly each day with the help of a half a tube of gel. And he had braces, and made them look amazing. I think I convinced some of the girls sitting around me to help me throw crumpled up used paper at him every day as a means of flirtation. How irresistible was I! He was neither smart, nor funny, nor especially nice, but he was something to behold. (what was I thinking?) So you can see why my earliest memories of typing are great ones. And it carried over when, the next semester, I took a word processing class (using real computers!) and still loved typing, even though Mark was not in that class.

I've mentioned before that I'm not the fastest of typers. I think I type 40-45 wpm. That little test in my sidebar ignores the law of averages. Of course I can type 72 words when it's for only one minute, typing some really basic words and I can try over and over. But my modest 40wpm is all I need, really. There's no real sense of urgency in getting blog posts typed up, or race to get emails written, and that's all I'm using it for.

This summer Evie has decided to start a blog. She would take her own pictures and dictate the text to me and I would do the typing. Then I realized that she should learn to type on her own. I found a great little On-line typing course (FREE!!), although I don't think it does enough repetition. It could be improved by a Mr. Shaw-like voice shouting out the whole, "A! S! D! F!" (or at least some more repetition of letters for practice on screen). My kids are just going over each level and stage more than once. And it may not come with a built in Mark Janji to bring in that added element of fun (or at least handsomeness), but it does have singing octopi and dancing sheep, which is all the motivation my kids need (actually, Evie turns the volume all the way down while she practices) It's better than a computer game to them! Great!

When David would read to me in the past, it usually went something like this: "Are you crazy question mark Don't eat the leaves exclamation point" Since he began this typing program, and has become more aware, it goes something like this "Are space you space crazy question mark Don't space eat space the space leaves exclamation point." Clown.

I told a friend of mine about this typing course and she's really excited to try it out. She told me she types one-handed and is interested in learning how to really type. That's great! I hope more people will learn and it will become a norm here, like it is in dear America. And then everything will improve*. It will be this huge upward growth thing and eventually they'll start selling things like chocolate chips, peanut butter cups, and cooking spray and have clean enough water that they can make drinking fountains available everywhere. And I will finally feel completely comfortable in Poland. So now we come to my real reason for wanting people to be able to type faster.

*Although the Polish economy is doing wonderfully at this point. And If this closing paragraph makes me sound like an arrogant or ignorant American, that's probably only because I kind of am, sometimes, fight as I will against it.

Rivers

This is me with a few of my siblings catching that night's dinner with these sticks that may or may not have had any sort of string attached, and almost certainly didn't have any sort of hook or bait on the end. I'm the dorkiest looking one.

Now my own family lives close to a river, too. This is how you get to it. (I'm so glad everything is less brownish now than it was in the old days.)

This is how the kids look once you're there.
Here I am AGAIN, just like in the first photo: by a river, with three cute children, still the dorkiest of the bunch. (Time hasn't changed ME much!)And it's not fair about Evie's glasses. I think they're darling in real life, but in every picture she looks like the poor kid in the nerd glasses. But what can you do?

Too much of a Good Thing?

So when I was growing up, I ate more candy than almost anyone in the world. I would even have eaten more than Jon (brother) except that he had more money and could drive, so he could go to Smart and Final and get the 78 pound tub of Whoppers and such. I often (constantly?) had these little blisters on my fingertips which my mother told me were some kind of bacteria from eating too much sugar. I spent every penny I earned on candy. I started babysitting at age 10 and I believe the first available half hour after every babysitting job I took the money I had earned down to Bingo and walked around and around that gas station store trying to figure out how I could get the most candy for my money. It's really a shame that you had to go through the weird part of the trailer park and cross a major street to get to Scott's Market, because they had all kinds of penny candy up there, and plus Scott was very nice, whereas the workers at Bingo never seemed to appreciate my patronage. In my defense, I remember that I finally settled into always getting a "fresh baked" giant peanut butter chocolate chip cookie and then whatever candy I could get with the change from that. See, I started learning at an early age the wonders of lots of baked goods in the diet. What wonders, you ask? Mostly that they taste really, really good and are very enjoyable to eat.

So the only thing I ever remember about the amount of candy I ate was that I never got as much as I wanted. I don't remember any negative side affects of the candy eating itself. Which brings me to my point. So the kids got their Easter baskets (okay, Easter bags. We were at Greg's parent's house and I had forgotten to bring along the baskets, as well as the paper grass and interesting treats I bought on our last trip to the Land of the Free so we used plastic grocery bags.--Gone are the days when I would have helped the kids make and decorate their own out of paper) and we let them eat the candy at will. That night Evie started feeling sick when she was in bed and eventually vomited. During the night David woke up and did the same. (I'll add here that I am grateful for clean vomiting kids. We always get it in the toilet or a bowl--no, last Easter when I was in the hospital with Aaron, Evie threw up in the hallway, but that's 'cause Daddy was in charge for the first time. Oh, and once in America when David was vomiting every 7 minutes...) Okay, so I spoiled this, but we thought at first that it was Greg's parents amazing food we had been eating (so delicious, but not always refrigerated before the bacteria gets going on it or thoroughly reheated the next day). Then Evie started saying, "I'm so mad at myself! Why did I eat so much candy? The same thing happened last time!" (see above reference)

So my question is, what's the deal with my kids not hacking the sweets? They didn't get that from me. I suppose I'll just be glad that they can't and hope that they won't end up addicted to sugar like I was...