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.

Peculiar People

So you know how people in all ages have made a mockery of the prophets and their counsel? The same thing is happening today. I know this because of something David said at school that got his class laughing.

His (nosy) teacher for some reason was asking him in what situation Greg and I would leave him and his siblings home alone. David said, "For example when they go on a date."

After a brief pause his classmates erupted in giggles and his teacher looked confused. "Aren't your mom and dad married?"

I know a lot of the things the prophet counsels us to do seem silly or unnecessary or just plain absurd to many people today. Apparently for David's class, continuing courtship after marriage is one of those things. I am very happy to have had a part in providing such entertainment to those tittering nine year olds.

And after David assured his teacher that we were indeed married his teacher got over her surprise and told him, "Well then, you have cool parents."

Maybe she'll go home and ask her husband out on their first date in 20 years.

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.

Some Teachers Just Need To Retire: A Rant

I know that teachers in Poland have different background and theories than those I grew up with. They don't seem to understand the basics of positive reinforcement and the self-fulfilling prophecy etc. I also remember that when David chose to go to a costume party in Kindergarten dressed as a bum (thought of it on his own) his teacher told him it was an ugly costume and she didn't like it (can't really blame her but she didn't have to say it in front of the class - or at all). So I really should not be surprised by his current teacher (that he has grades 1-3 with).

Last year before an evening costume party/dance the school was holding he agonized forever about what to go as. People would make fun of the "muscles" in his Spiderman costume, the Batman costume was too small etc. He came up with the idea of going as a spy. He dressed in a suit and made himself a badge to tuck into his shirt pocket and an ID card to flash from his wallet. He wore his "spy glasses" (with mirrors on the sides to see what's behind you) and I thought he took a motion detector or some other McDonald's spy toy we have kicking around.

But maybe he didn't because the next Monday he came home from school and told me that his teacher had told him that he didn't do a very good job with his costume. He should have made some gadgets or something to make it more interesting.

This year on one of the first days of school she had the kids write what their dream school would be like. One girl said that there would be a robot that would go around and if you got lost it would take you to your classroom. Cute, huh? Shows the little girl's fears and her solution for dealing with them.

The teacher didn't think so. She said, "That is a very strange idea. Why would you need someone to show you where your class is? Don't you know where it is!?! A better idea would be if you could fly to school. . . " and proceeded to explain how to use your imagination properly to create a TRULY interesting school.

A few days ago she asked David what his mom does for work. He told her that I write. She was intrigued and grilled him with questions. All he could tell her was that I write articles, send them to a man and he sends me money. When he couldn't explain better who the man was (name, please!) she said, "David! Don't you know anything about your own mother!?!"

The other day a girl needed a tissue and didn't have one. The teacher asked David if he had one he would give her. He didn't. She asked why not. He said because he doesn't have a stuffy nose. The teacher told him he has no culture, coming to class without tissues in his bag.

Other things she regularly says to students:

"Oh, that's an interesting haircut. I liked it better how it was before." Or she just says she doesn't like it.

"You wear your short sleeves over your long sleeves? Is that some kind of new style? Whatever!" and other comments on the clothes they wear.

"What is that!?! That's supposed to be a dog? That looks like a pig."

These are the only things I can remember right now, but David comes home from time to time and cries about how much he "hates" his teacher, usually when she's embarrassed him or a friend of his with her comments.

I just had to get that all off my chest. She's not always such a troll, and we have actually appreciated her sense of humor and hard work with the difficult class she's been dealing with for 2 full years already. But really, when you start resorting to insulting kids to get back at them for being hard to deal with I think it really is just time to retire. Even if you're only in your early forties. (and even if you praise my baking in front of all the other parents)(which is the main problem, praise and criticism all spoken loudly in front of everyone.)

Obedience, Trust and What Makes a Mother Cry

I looked out the front window and saw a blonde, suntanned boy standing on the sidewalk shading his eyes while looking up at the stairs to a house that was being built but hadn't been worked on for months. He didn't look sad, upset or jealous. He was just looking.

I leaned my head to the side so I could see what he was looking at. On the stairs stood his three friends. They were talking and kicking rocks off the stairs, just hanging out. And the boy just stood.

He stood way out on the sidewalk because his parents had told him that constructions sites are not places to play, that they can be dangerous. They told him that someone owns those lots so you can't just explore there.

Watching this boy resist temptation and coolly do what he knew he should, even when it was hard and he thought no one was looking made me tear up. That boy was my David.

This same boy loves riding his bike with two of his friends. He wears a helmet, even though they don't, because his parents tell him to. He doesn't ride in the street because it's not safe. He rides on the sidewalk while his friends ride in the street.

He went away to stay with his grandparents for a week and a half. When he got home he found that his two bike riding friends had made friends in his absence with two other boys who also liked to ride bikes.

At first he was happy to meet the boys and become friends. On the first day, though, he realized that these boys also rode in the streets and that somehow this changed everything.

He had come to me a few times crying. He wanted his friends back. He could play with them but when they started riding bikes he simply could not keep up with them. He would just come home instead and try to be brave and not cry while being completely left out of his favorite activity with his best friends.

After a few days he told me about a plan he had to ask his two friends if he could ride bikes with them in the morning and they could ride with the new boys in the afternoon. I know this sounds like a good idea, but my heart was breaking a little for him. As I expected, his friends didn't agree.

David started talking to his dad about changing the bike riding rules. Dad was thinking about it. In the meantime the remaining two and a half weeks of summer were ticking by and David was spending a lot of time at home, left out. The main friend of the two would be returning to his home in Spain soon.

Last night before scriptures and prayer Greg had an announcement. He said that he had walked to a nearby store to pick up some vegetables (a job the kids usually do). While he was out he saw off in the distance David riding bikes with his friend. He rode on the sidewalk. When he came to a street he hopped off the bike and walked it across before getting back on the sidewalk while his friends sailed through the streets much more quickly.

There was no way David would ever have known that Greg or I would see him. Greg said that he was well convinced that he could trust David to do what he was asked. The new rule was that David could ride with his friends in the street, but has to watch very carefully for cars.

Of course I remembered back to the construction site story and got a little weepy.

I am so grateful for these moments in parenting when I realize that even though a child might drive me absolutely crazy sometimes he (or she) is a seriously awesome person with amazing strength of character. And how lucky I am to be allowed to watch them continue to learn and grow. And teach me.

Found On My Phone

David likes to take pictures. Here are some of my favorites I've found on my phone.

Chess.
Merengues in the oven. Seeing this picture right after the last one makes me realize that next time I should really see if I can form them into pawns, knights, bishops and royalty so we can get a game out of them before we eat them.

His lid collection:

On this next one all I can say is, "Um, nice, David." (notice Ev reading in the background, as ever. I won't aplogize for exposing you to our couch again. It has served us well and will one day be replaced. I have hope.)
This next one he took from the window of the car on the drive to Katowice. It's my favorite. I could look at it all day. As a matter of fact, I think I will on those hot, sunny days when the rest of the world is out enjoying sweating while they go about their business (why do people like temperatures above 74 degrees!?! I need to move to Southern California, though there aren't enough storms. . .).


And finally one that I actually took, but when I took it it didn't look like this. However, I think Evie's the one who made the improvements to this one.

I love looking through my photos. I never know what I'll find.

Hence the Nesquick Bunny

On Saturday Greg took the kids (all four!) for a walk in the forest so I could have a chance to do some writing in peace and quiet.

They were walking for an hour and a half and as Greg was carrying the baby, David helped Aaron navigate the terrain and protected him from all the spiders and beetles. When they came home Aaron started calling David his David. Except that he pronounces David "Defed". We heard a lot of "Where's my Defed?" on Saturday.

They obviously came to some fields, too. Go Ev with the Nordic Walking!

Also, Aaron was a little concerned when he saw rabbit droppings scattered here and there through the forest, right in the dirt and not in a bowl. "Uh oh, cereal!" he said.

source

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Who Learned You To Spoke The English?

I wouldn't be surprised if I found out that David, the only native English speaker in his class, is the worst student in English. It's true that he has a hard time formulating complete sentences all in English, but that's no reason for him to perform worse than other students with zero English exposure in his class.

It's also true that he's expected to learn this kind of English.

They are not taught "Do you have. . . ?" at all, or even "I have. . .". Ever. In our house we don't say "Have you got. . .?" very often. Call us crazy.

Still, this is no excuse for this:

At first I just read the last line. "Yes, I haven't"? Come on David!! I laughed a little over it and asked what he was thinking. He explained that they were asking if he had a pet and he doesn't have one! (And yes, I regularly laugh at my children's homework, in case you're wondering.)

Then I looked at the other ones and ran into the color one. Sheesh. I've got a bad cold and that one made me laugh so hard I coughed for three minutes. I also realize that it's probably not actually all that funny.

I wonder if he thought he'd get extra credit for writing it in orange.

Did you notice I wrote "I'VE GOT a bad cold?" I didn't even do it on purpose. Maybe I'm wrong about that one. . .

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.

You Probably Had To Be There

Today while I was cleaning the kitchen (again) and the kids were eating a snack at the table:

Me:  Okay, I see two cups here with juice in them.  Whose are they?

David:  This one's mine, and this one. . . . is mine, too.

Me:  Why are there two cups half full of juice on a table that was just clean?

David:  Well, I had to get some new juice.

Me:  Okay, David.  New rule.  No juice for you unless you ask me first.  Every time I clean the kitchen I dump some juice from at least one cup.  You have to drink the juice that you pour for yourself.  Why did you pour a second cup of juice today?

David:  Because I had a Halls (he's a little sick) and then when I drank this juice it tasted minty.

Me:  Soooo. . .?  (stifling a giggle)

David:  So, I didn't want to drink it.

Me:  So you got another cup out?  And?  {I start laughing and can't finish my sentences}

Evie:  {starts laughing and tries to ask David a question, but she's laughing too hard}

Me:  That one . . .was minty so. . . you decided to try with a new cup?  

Evie and I are laughing like crazy and trying to talk.  David starts laughing a little too.  

Eventually we calmed down enough for David to explain that he came back to get a drink a little while  after he left the "minty" juice and thought that some of his "minty breath" had tainted it and it would still be minty, which is why he went for a new cup.  

He still has to ask before he can get juice.  

In Poland they sell mint apple juice.  And David likes it.  

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!

Bad Words

When David was between two and three years of age, he was too well behaved to write on walls or smear peanut butter on the table or anything like that.  (actually, so far none of my kids have done any of that "normal" kid stuff).  But he did have one bad habit.  He had a dirty mouth.  

About 4 times a day he would say, " Hey, Ewelina.  Pee."  After getting the appropriate reaction, ("David!")  He would say "Letter, 'P'!!!"  This continued for weeks after we stopped responding to it in any way.  (We had a strict "no potty words unless you're in the bathroom" policy, and the kids never cared to break it, except for David during this short phase, which was more of a display of his wit than a desire to say a forbidden word.)

Also, when he would get offended, and he has always been very sensitive that way, and he wanted to express his frustration and dissappointment in us, he searched his darling little brain for a word that would cut us to the core.  One that would show that he could completely reject our teachings, and be bad, if we pushed him too far.  

And he found the perfect one.  If we ever implied that he had done something he shouldn't, or tried to correct him etc. he would walk off to his room and turn back just to say, "Alcohol!" in a very defiant tone.  Surely alcohol must be such a bad thing that the word alone would shock us horribly.

Sad for him, it never did.  It did, however, give us a good laugh and a great story to pass down for generations.

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!

What Happens When You Mix Languages

We almost choked on our sandwiches, with this one.
na pół = in half (prounounced "nah poo")
na = on, in, for etc.

We were eating grilled tuna and cheese on this funky, monster huge bread. David was struggling with his and told me, "I need my sandwich to be on pół."

I believe I'll keep this one in my files for whenever I'm feeling sad or depressed. I laugh every single time I think about it.

A Seven Year Old Peach

My little boy isn't so little anymore. He'll be seven tomorrow. That doesn't stop his cheeks from being the closest thing to a peach, besides a nectarine. Well, actually, I think he's even more like a peach than a nectarine is. He has the smoothest softest skin in all of the universe with the cutest light fuzz covering it. He also happens to have a large pale red birthmark on his cheek that gives it an even peachier look. We tell him that he was so sweet when he was a baby that we couldn't stop kissing him and that's why there's a permanent mark there. It's a lie (don't worry, he knows). But it should be true. Baby skin is extremely resilient. I could still kiss his cheeks over and over forever, if he'd let me. He won't though, because he's seven. Tomorrow.

Can you see ANY difference between these two pictures?


* www.kitchengardeners.org/

If you can, it's only because this shows David's right cheek, and his left is the rosy one (this picture was not taken with this post in mind. You can sorta see his cheek in the picture at the top). His glasses almost even look like the branch in the other picture!

There are some ways that my peach is different from the the edible version, and good thing or life might get a little confusing. The kind you eat doesn't:
* love classical music
* love riding it's bike
* have an amazing sense of humor
* get offended if you look at it cross-eyed (not literally)
* love riding in a car
* never tire of playing with it's baby brother
* spend hours at a time composing music on its keyboard or harmonica

Slight change of subject (we're going from David's cheeks to entire babies). I was thinking the other day that babies and peaches are almost exactly the same. They're both:
Fruit*
Small
Round
Soft
Fuzzy
Rosy
Squishy
Messy
Juicy*
Sweet
Sometimes Sour

Isn't it a little scary? I mean, maybe babies are peaches! If so, I'll be a little upset that I went through 2+ years so far being pregnant when I could have just picked some up at the local grocery store! If peaches lasted longer than fifteen minutes in the house, we might have started noticing that they are babies. I really need to look into this more before I decide to go through another possibly needless pregnancy!

The kind of peaches that come from a tree are my favorite fruit to eat, but I still think my seven year old peach is yummier (he's the only one that wasn't gone in 15 minutes after we brought him home because of that resilient skin).

What kind of fruit are YOUR kids like?

* as in fruit of the womb, and juicy as in drippy, like with slobber.

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.

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!

They Grow Up So Fast

I really love David. He's very funny and smart and kind and self-confident (if sometimes shy). He has a pleasant way of mixing Polish and English (usually an English sentence sprinkled with a Polish word or two), and if you ask him to say the whole sentence in English it takes him about 10 seconds to translate the Polish words into English. Plus the whole literal translation thing is sometimes funny. For example, today in the tub he had wet his hair and then spiked it all up. Fryzura means hairstyle. He asked me, "Can this fryzura be?" Doesn't really translate very
directly. He meant, "is this hairstyle okay?" But usually he's just funny on purpose, and sometimes all in English. Like once I asked Evie to fix her behaviour and David started walking out of the room saying,"I'll go get the tools for you." Or like tonight I was sitting on the kitchen floor feeding Aaron his hot cereal (as you do) and asked David to get the jam out of the fridge for me (I wanted to add some to the cereal). He pulled it out of the fridge and set it on the table. Way out of my reach. I said, "Um, I can't really use the jam when it's over there and I'm over here." As he picks it back up to bring to me he says, "Oooh! I'm sorry! I thought you were Elastigirl!"


Su (sister) recently posted about how she has her children tell her three things about their day each day after school . I love that idea. Fortunately my kids are still excited to tell me things on their own, but I'm saving Su's idea for the inevitable day when they won't be. I really don't have to pry anything out of them at this point. There are even some things I almost wish they didn't tell me. For example, David is in love.

He has been telling us for the last few days/weeks that he is in love with Marcelina in his kindergarten class. He always talks about what a nice smile she has and how she wears such cute clothes (!). He told me that in the morning, whenever someone walks into the classroom he looks up to see if it's her and if it is he tells whoever's nearby, "Here's my sweetheart." YIKES! And then he comes home and tells us that. I believe we should be glad that he's not trying to hide it from us but.....YIKES. Yesterday we had Greg's boss and his (Mexican) friend over for dinner (at which point I realized that I can still understand some Spanish, but I can't remember a single word of it to speak) and after they left, David showed us what he had been working on while we were chatting. Prepare yourselves:

Above is the inside of the "card" he made for Marcela. Above the flowers that represent each of them is written "maybe a kiss?" (thus the kissy lips).

This is the front and back. For some reason my children think it looks nice if they scribble all over a page. As long as it's not white, they think it looks nice and colorful. I've tried to convince them that it just looks messy, but to no avail. On the back it says, "You are sweeeeeeeeet, and awesome, ya know, and rich." Then we have all the money symbols and a big bag of money with her name on it. Underneath it says, "Shut up and accept it." I think that's kind of a Polish saying used when someone tries to decline something that is offered to them, so I understand that I'm not supposed to be mad about the "shut up" part of it. But
HELP!! We don't want to make a big deal out of it, so we're just letting it be, of course explaining that he's too young to really have a girlfriend and that he should make sure she likes him, too, so he doesn't bother her etc. He knows all this, and mostly just thinks it's fun. He's very cute. And I'm very scared!

[I typed this up a few days ago and yesterday David told me that he still really likes Marcelina, but not as much as before. The obsession is fading! Yay!)