Success and Accomplishment . . . and all that

I got to attend a little awards ceremony/breakfast at Daisy’s junior high the other day where she received a “Student of the Month” award.

Coincidentally, Abe was also “Student of the Month”. Unfortunately he couldn’t be at the ceremony because, you know, he was off busily receiving a first place prize at the regional “Utah History Day” competition (documentary category) with one of his best pals. (The two of them made a documentary on Agent Garbo – which they will now be taking to the state competition.)

This, of course, is not to be confused with his other recent regional history competition. The one where he participated with the other four students from his school who made it that far in the “History Bee”.

I know. I know. There is nothing worse than having to read of all the wonderful accomplishments of other people’s children. But, what can I do? I try to discourage them. In fact, as I sent Abe off yesterday, I specifically said, “I hope you do well!” and then, with eyebrows raised pointedly, I added, “But not too well.” (I knew that “too well” would mean just what it did – that we’d be carting him off to the state competition. Heaven forbid.)

But what can one do? They have their agency. And, try though I might, I can’t totally stop them from all this troublesome . . . success. Sigh. And, in the meantime, they keep being left out of blog posts for not doing the mischievous, naughty things their younger siblings do. So. There the two of them are. In all their glory.

(Now might be a good time to just go ahead and throw in these pictures of Abe and Goldie at their violin recital.)

And now I will stop all of my teasing. It’s a very happy thing, as a mother, to see your children succeed and do well at anything they might do well with. It’s satisfying and rewarding to see them do impressive things. It’s wonderful to sit and listen to teachers who have noticed (and are now proclaiming out loud) the things you have always quietly been certain of. Their accomplishments and successes and joys mean more than my own. Their accomplishments and successes and joys kind of are my own. And, like everyone, they truly do have their strengths and their talents; and, of course, they have their areas of less skill and ability.

Ultimately, they will keep growing up – finding more of these opportunities, unearthing more talents, and discovering more interests. They may also miss out on some opportunities; they might  not develop some talents (because life is full and busy; and we won’t have the time, resources, or desire necessary to involve them in everything they might have excelled in.) They will have plenty of struggles and failures all wrapped in with these wonderful moments of recognition and achievement – because that’s life, and that’s what we humans do as we make our way through it. I have enough of these little people now to realize that neither the struggles nor the successes will be the exact same for any of them (except, of course, in the rare instance that two of them get a “Student of the Month” award on the same day) nor do they need to be. Obviously some successes will be more visible and will receive more recognition; and, of course, I’ll cheer for those. They will make me happy. They will make me proud. I’m their mom. How could they not?

But the truth? The truth is: nothing they do or don’t do will ever matter to me as much as simply who they are – their tremendous souls; their connection to me; the fact that they are mine; and that they are kind and want good. That will always trump all else.

So . . . on to the less noteworthy . . . because, with my own kids, the brag-worthy and the insignificant somehow make me equally happy. Do your big things; and your small things, kids. You are mine and I love you and your precious little selves completely.

Only . . . back at the beginning of this post, when I was touting my children’s accomplishments, why oh why did I not think to say some clever thing like, “This is why I must keep having children. For the good of society.”?

Anyway, to end: this conversation (which spurred some humorous responses on Facebook):

Anders walks in from outside -- carrying a handful of dog food. "Can I have a bowl for this?" he asks.

"Just put it in the dog's bowl, sweetie," I respond.

"But I need it in a bowl for me," he says.

"Oh no," I explain. "Dog food isn't for boys. It's only for dogs."

"But you SAID I could eat it!" he insists.

"No, honey. I never said that. Dog food isn't good for little boys. Go put it outside."

"But, . . ." tears welling up in his eyes, voice quivering, "can I have dog food for my birthday?"

Well. We'll see, I mean . . . I suppose, if it's for your birthday.

Electricity and Bananas

I just got myself sucked into a long discussion on electricity . . . which was tricky because, the more I talked, the more I realized that I didn’t actually know what electricity was.

Jesse was warning me that a battery was about to die on our old corded landline, and I innocently mentioned that it didn’t need a battery because we could just plug it in. Next thing I know I am being forced to explain electricity and all I can think to say is a bunch of gibberish about our outlets – the ones he once shocked himself on – and that same power that shocked him coming out of those outlets to make things work just like a battery makes things work.

Only I can’t explain what exactly this “power” is. I have some little image in my mind of a miniature light bulb being powered by a  potato with some wires sticking out of it, but that’s not getting me anywhere; . . . and the word “circuit” is kind of somewhere floating about in my mind. But heavens. Jesse quizzes me like no other.

. . . And I know full well that my answers aren’t always giving him a perfectly clear understanding because the other day he opened a banana that was a bit brown and mushy and said, “Mom! The potassium’s squeezing out . . . and (pause to grimace at the banana mush now on his hand) it’s smooshy”. I don’t think potassium is “smooshy”, and I know full well who gave him the potassium discussion. I’m a smart enough girl, but nobody told me, when I signed on for this mothering business, I’d have to explain why our electrical appliances don’t need batteries charged or exactly how a banana is good for us. Maybe there should have been a test to pass first.

And another thing . . . that has nothing to do with anything I’ve been saying. It’s simply this: Oh dear. Oh dear how this little Anders has me all twisted up inside at the thought of him. As I type this he is in my arms, drinking a bottle, slapping my hand with his (yes, I’m typing one handed), and kicking his chubby bare legs against the table. I just . . . ohhhh I love him.

Wait! Did I say I was done? I forgot about THIS! G-O-L-D-I-E. I know of no other little Goldies running around out there (well, no, actually I have heard several small dogs named Goldie . . . that doesn’t change the fact that I think it is an absolutely darling and lovely little girl name). Anyway, what with not many little girl Goldie’s about, I was quite surprised when I happened upon this little lunch box at Down East the other day. Her old lunch box is missing a strip of velcro, but, even if it wasn’t I would have had to buy this new lunch box. Yes, the fates must have brought little lunch box and I together on that Friday evening.

Cute little thing this girl of mine.

Tinkering

I felt like such an amazing mom today. Let me tell you why: I was trying to find the few Tinkertoys that I'd seen lying out earlier -- so I could put them with the others, but only one of the three could be found. So I thought to myself, "Where would I be if I were a Tinkertoy . . . and I lived in the same house as little Mr. Jesse Frank?" Then, almost immediately I thought, "I'd probably be in the garbage disposal." And indeed, that's where they both were. Of course, maybe I'm not so amazing. I've also been thinking for some time now, "Where would I be if I were a TV remote and lived in the same house as Jesse?" And I've checked the heater vents AND the fridge AND the garbage disposal AND my makeup drawer -- all to no avail. BUT, speaking of Tinkertoys. The evening before my garbage disposal find, I found myself prying peas from dinner out of the little circles in the round Tinkertoys. They fit there quite nicely so I could see why it might seem a logical place for someone to have put them. All the same, I thought, "This is one of those things that never really occurred to me that I might be doing when I thought about my life once I was married and had kids."

And all of that makes me think that it is interesting how many of my recent thoughts have revolved around Tinkertoys. And one wonders why I sometimes don't recall a whole lot of information from my Chemistry and Biology days. Tinkertoys are pretty cool though. Both Penny and Jesse were gratifyingly appreciative of my skills when I built them the old Tinkertoy rattle (well, we just call it a shaker around here -- it's not really a rattle) and swing set last night. I'm not saying I'm the greatest Tinkertoy builder ever . . . necessarily . . . I'm just telling it like it was: they were greatly impressed.

A Little Moment from Tuesday

I really like Tuesday. Not the day so much as the word -- so much so that I even considered naming a girl that. It seemed though like she'd need to be born on a Tuesday, and that never happened (which is just as well because, my goodness I've given my girls cute names). BUT, that has nothing to do with anything. SO, let's move right along to today. This capturing moments business is getting out of hand. I only captured one moment today -- just minutes ago, when I realized I had an "assignment due" and a day almost already done with.

n

Tuesday's moment: Daisy does Homework.

I was very happy that I did that half year of home school with Abe and Daisy for many reasons, but one big reason was that I became familiar with how math is done for young kids these days. You know, fact families and regrouping and the like. Forget the old days of "borrowing" and "carrying the one." Anyway, it has been a nice thing for me to understand the math lingo and approach as my kids have continued in school. Nice til NOW, that is. We got a note today (along with Daisy's math homework) explaining how the school or district or some such has adopted a completely new math system. Ay yi yi. Maybe it's good. I guess it's supposed to help them see the break down of numbers more clearly, etc. And, Daisy is happily adding and subtracting numbers in the thousands like they are old best friends.

n

I had her show me a little of how they were doing it tonight and it was all very confusing. I don't have a grasp on it at all. Daisy, I have noticed, has quite a talent for math. Luckily, she's just all around bright, but, it has been particularly surprising for me to see how simple and easy math is for her. I realize that is a tremendous blessing, both for me and her, but I also am not laboring under some notion that everything will always be easy for my kids. I imagine I might very well have a little one who, at some point, will really struggle with school or the concepts behind certain subjects. I'm fine with that. Everyone gets tired of Chtistmas cards (and blog posts like this one) about how smart everyone else's kids are anyway. What I'm less fine with is that by even third grade I may be completely ill suited when it comes to helping them with it! How can I help a future struggling third grader when I can't understand what on earth third graders are doing myself?

n

I was telling this to Daisy -- how it was a blessing she was so gifted with math, but how it would be tricky if one of her siblings had a harder time with it and I didn't understand it myself well enough to help them. She simply shrugged and said, "Well I could just help them."

n

Well. What an obvious answer, but it is like the shock I felt when Abe was out shoveling the driveway. I am still so used to taking care of the needs of so many little ones, that them becoming slightly self sufficient is incredible enough, but the real possibility of them doing very grown up helpful things is . . . well . . . very amazingly wonderful. And not just, "Hooray! More help!" But just the wonder of them becoming their complete own selves who can do such mature things is all quite miraculous to me.

Mystery of the Measuring Cups

Here are two smart things I have done lately. Just little things. Little smart things.

One: While washing the dishes I noticed that the water was getting too hot. I also had the disposal going. So, I reached over and turned the disposal off. A few minutes later, when my hands were nearly at scalded level, I realized that turning the disposal off had, apparently, not been the answer to getting the water cooler.

Two: I got a new list of girls to visit teach the other day. I looked at the list and thought, "Hey! I share a birthday with one of these sisters!" Then I looked closer and realized -- "No, that is my name that birth date is next too. I share a birthday with myself. Fascinating."

And, here is something that has nothing at all to do with my own mental state. It is a MYSTERY (I wanted to write those letters all wiggly and mysterious, but all I could do was capitalize them). I am writing this mystery because I wonder if it only happens in my home (and in my mom's home because I baked plenty there and encountered the same issue). Somehow, 1/4th cup measuring cups always disappear and EXTRA 1/3rd cups replace them. Really. I have only ever purchased one set of measuring cups so far in our marriage. ONE set. Yet somehow I have THREE 1/3rd cup measuring cups. THREE! And the thing is, I never want a third cup. I don't know why, but I am only ever needing the hard to find 1/4th cup. Does this happen anywhere else? The only good thing about it is that when a recipe calls for a 1/3rd cup I always feel like, "Ahhh, that should be nooo problem little recipe!"

Perhaps some of you are actually missing your 1/3rd cups. My mom would always talk about the mysterious black hole around our house -- the hole that just swallowed things like one shoe out of a pair or a camera or keys. But, the hole didn't only take away, it gave. Just as one thing would go missing, another thing would appear -- a thing that belonged, seemingly, to no one.

And occasionally, when the hole was in a teasing mood, it would return something long long after it was needed. Years later you might say, "So THERE is that missing pair of glasses! How did they end up here in plain site years after they went missing and I bought new ones?"

Maybe these black holes are connected and my 1/4th cups are showing up in someone else's kitchen while other folks' 1/3rd cups keep zipping over to my kitchen?

Who knows. Like I said -- it is a mystery.

Haunted Dryer?

I do more laundry than you can shake a stick at. Where did that come from -- more than you can shake a stick at? I don't know, but I like it. Anyway, loads and loads of laundry (no pun intended).

So, with all that laundry, I was more insulted than spooked when my dryer turned "haunted" the last few days. You see, I have a little switch on my dryer that you can turn to "signal on" or "signal off" -- you know, depending on whether or not you want to hear a really loud buzzing sound each time your laundry is dry. I do not want to hear that sound, so mine has always been set to off. But a few days ago, out of the blue, my dryer began ignoring my wishes and buzzing when it was done with its job. Why was this insulting? Well, because I felt like my dryer was suggesting that I am a slacker. Perhaps hinting that I ought to be up and folding a little more quickly. "Hey Lazy," the dryer seemed to taunt, "I've done my job of drying now get crackin' on your part. What, can't handle a few clothes to fold?" But I always do manage to get my laundry done at some point (see all those folded clothes on top). It isn't as if the laundry is a casserole that will burn if I don't take it out the minute it is done. It may get a bit wrinkly, but I've come to accept and love wrinkly so that doesn't matter so much, and I find it highly offensive that my dryer thinks that just because he dries the clothes he now has a say in when I do my part.

Then today, I checked that little knob again -- even though I've checked it a few times since the buzzing began, and lo and behold, it was turned to signal ON! SO now I am left to wonder if dryer ever was truly haunted and judgemental or if I have simply gone crazy . . . which sadly would not be a totally implausible option. You leave me alone, dryer!

P.S. Dear Dryer, Please do not get offended and quit drying my clothes. I really like how you do that.

Buillion, Slivers, and All Around Crazy

Note to self: bullion is by the soup. Remember this so that the next time you need it you won't walk very slowly up and down, and up and down the isle where the taco seasoning is and then up and down, and up and down the isle where the salt, pepper and other spices are like you do every single time you need bullion as you think to yourself, "Think think think. Where was that bullion."

And another thing -- does anyone know what happens if a little tiny piece of wood . . . like say the size of the very end of a toothpick gets lodged deep in the bottom of your foot? Because, well, that is where a very tiny piece of wood is. Very deep and very very tiny. Only my foot is all swollen, and I limp like a little fox whose paw got caught in one of those scary traps (well, at least how he would limp were he to get away from one of those traps with his paw still intact -- if he'd gnawed his paw off to get away, well, I wouldn't be able to compare myself fairly because it is not that bad -- yet). Tia, ask your doctor friend will you. Sure he may be a neurosurgeon (oh, I am so sorry I forgot just what type of a doctor your husband is), but what good is that if he doesn't know anything about slivers? I think they would have to cut my whole foot open and search and search to find it . . . which seems like a lot of misery for one very minuscule piece of wood. OH!! Oohhh . . . I totally know you are all going to use this in a lesson now about a little festering sin.

Anywho, toodle-lou. I'm clearly all crazy in the head right now and should not be blogging. No, this would be a much better time to work on my church talk for tomorrow. Hahaha. Oh how they'll love it.

P.S. MMmm, I love Maddox Turkey Steaks. Just the kind you buy at the store and cook yourself. The kind that don't exist in other states. I'm going to go eat one right this minute.

Bedazzling Postscript

So, yesterday I mentioned that my girls' bedazzler was specifically called a GeMagic. I've seen that box, sitting on top of my fridge for five days now and not once did it occur to me that GeMagic is really a clever way of saying "Gem Magic." (Thank you Aunty Juana for telling me that in yesterday's comment section). I don't like to feel alone in my ignorance, but I was certain that no one else would have realized that either (which is why I wanted to post the news -- because I knew you would all feel much more excited when you thought of buying something that works magic with gems than when you thought of buying something with a name that made no sense . . . ge-magic).

Still, just to show my new found smarts off, I said to Mike last night, "Do you have any idea what that name on the box really is saying?"

"What do you mean?" He replied.

"Do you know what that is -- 'gemagic'?"

"No," he corrected me, "It isn't 'ge-magic;' it's 'gem magic.'"

Anyway, now I am thinking that maybe everyone clearly saw that it was trying to be gem magic -- everyone but me (oh, and Shannon -- thanks Shan), and that reminds me of how I knew exactly what FAQ's stood for (oh no I didn't), and now I am banging my head on the table and my fists as well as I cry to you all, "I was SMART!! I was so smart once!! I tell you I was!!" (bang banging of fists and a few moans), "I was the one Megan liked to call braniac! I was the "Outstanding Zoology" graduate with a 4.0!! I was the high scorer on every Genetics test and a lab instructor and, I was SMAAAARRRRTTT!!" Cry cry cry . . . sniffle. And at the end of that rant you will all say gently, "But Nancy dear, . . . what is gemagic really trying to say?" Then, you will add softly, "And did you or did you not spew gasoline all over yourself at a gas station recently?" (But that will be for later -- yes Tia, it is coming). And I will just nod as I wipe my eyes and blow my nose and know that what once was can not always remain. NOOOO!! I won't give up that easilly!! I am SMART, I am!! I am pretty much a genius!!!! GeMagic -- sheesh.

A sure sign we have done enough school for today

Me: Daisy, do you remember Abraham Lincoln's nickname?

Daisy: Honest Abe.

Me: What else can you tell me about Abraham Lincoln?

Daisy (with a sigh): He was really REALLY honest.

FAQs and Facts

I was thinking how this blog often has loads of random nonsense coupled with only a smattering of what is actually going on in my life or the life of my family. And, I thought that perhaps some of you are looking at my blog for updates (which is why I look at so many of my friend's blogs -- particularly friends who live far away) and not getting them. So, with that in mind, I decided I would post a few quick facts about life at this moment.

Only, my rambly mind encountered a few snags. Here was my thought process and how it panned out:

"Facts. That is what I will call my post."

"Wait, why do websites always list that section as FAQs? That is ridiculous. Sure it sounds like 'facts' but it only saves you one letter and looks silly."

--Later -- as I am brushing my teeth at night--

"Maybe the FA is for 'facts' and the Q is for 'questions.' Facts and Questions -- well, that makes more sense, but FA seems a dumb abbreviation for 'facts.'"

--a little more brushing--

"Ohhh! I know, F is for facts, A is for and, and Q is for questions! It all makes sense! I am so smart to have figured this out!"

hhh

At this point I tell Mike pretty much the entire thought process I have just put down here -- shaking my head at how I could have thought that people were just spelling facts in a goofy way with a Q when it so obviously means "facts and questions." But Mike only smiled nicely at me . . . a smile that seemed to say, "My poor dear slow wife -- should I even tell you?" And then he did. It turns out that FAQs means (as I am sure all of you have known all along) "Frequently Asked Questions."

Well, at first I was not happy about this. I'd just stretched my little brain to its very edges to solve this whole thing and it was no fun to discover I had solved it incorrectly. However, my disappointment was replaced by the fact that I can now do this post as if you are all asking me some questions -- frequently -- all of you. That will be much more fun than simply listing facts!

Q: What is happening with houses, Nancy?

A: Well, as you've all asked, who knows. We have found some houses that are medium that would probably be fine and we have found some we could be pretty excited about if the seller drops their price a very very lot. But so far nothing has really caused us to jump excitedly forward.

Q: Well, when are you having that baby of yours anyway?

A: I will be 32 weeks tomorrow so eight weeks to go. That sounds soon doesn't it! Dec. 5th is the due date. My last three have all been exactly one day after their due date -- but maybe that is a fashionably late girl thing . . . and we don't know if this is a girl or boy.

Q: Speaking of boy or girl, do you have any feelings about what this baby is going to be? (A lot of you really have asked this).

A: No, I really don't. I almost think a girl because it is actually really hard for me to imagine a baby boy. Aren't babies supposed to be girls? After three in a row I sort of think that. At the same time, after three in a row I do sort of think a boy would most likely come next. If I did have a special feeling (which I don't) it would most likely be wrong as I was almost spiritually certain Abe was a girl and Goldie was a boy.

Q: How's homeschool going?

A: Really well. Much much better now that we have done a few weeks -- now that I am both familiar with the materials I have and more confident about doing the lessons with out having to follow them word for word.

Q: What is new with your kids?

A: Thank you for asking. They are great. Penny is entering my favorite of all stages -- I think I will have to do a separate post on her soon. Daisy just got a haircut. I was sad to see her length go, but it was all too uneven and really needed a healthy new start. She looks cute. Abe is doing well -- especially now that we have discovered a friend right through my mom's yard who is his same age, same calm temperament and also homeschooled. He is also surprisingly thrilled that Mike helped him make an old tire that Abe found into a tire swing. Goldie is my same very cute fun girl and she really does love to help me all of the time -- but only if it is in secret. I am never supposed to look if she does anything I have asked her to do -- only act happily and shockingly surprised when it is done. And she does think of cute things to do all on her own like carry the entire heavy laundry basket upstairs for me all by herself when she sees I plan on doing laundry.

Q: Is it nice being back near family?

A: Yes, it really is. I was so sad to be leaving my life in WA that I really sort of thought, "Yah, I love family, but what is the big deal about living near them?" But I had forgotten how fun it is to be a part of family Sunday dinners or let my kids get together with cousins or have my own fun sisters and older nieces stop by for visits or to watch Pride and Prejudicey type movies with me. Family is actually very very good. (Here are Daisy and Goldie with some of their cute girl cousins -- many of them wearing vampire teeth).

Q: Do you always give your kids healthy well balanced lunches? (Ha ha, OK, no one has ever asked me that question -- I am only thinking it because I am giving Penny lunch as we speak).

A: I will answer that question with another question. Are hotdogs healthy and well balanced when cut in small pieces? Ohhhh, I am the worst mom ever. Hotdogs. Sheesh.

Q: What was your favorite conference talk?

A: They were all so so great, but my very favorite that really spoke to me the most was President Monson's on gratitude, etc. It was so great. All I should be is the most grateful girl in the world.

Q: Lastly, do you really still think that Halloween Oreos are way better than normal Oreos even though we all know they are just "Double Stuf" Oreos with orange food coloring?

A: Yes, yes I do.

Anyway, I hope that was the fill of updates some of you were most certainly craving. If not, feel free to submit more questions for my next addition of FAQs (that's "frequently asked questions" for those of you just tuning in).

Home + School = Home School

Many of you have asked about (or expressed shock over) the fact that we are homeschooling at present. I wrote a post about it last night, but it was like two pages long -- you know, just detailing all the likes and dislikes thus far, etc. You know how I like to ramble. Anyway, I couldn't bare to put two pages of home school on my blog. I could only imagine how lengthy it would be in this skinny long format. So, you will not get all the details. If any of you care to know my many thoughts, I will happily email them to you. In the mean time, here is the quick and easy version:

Home school was always for very odd sorts growing up. Still, it seems that some people who do it are strange or just view it in a fanatical way, but up where we were living in WA it was really huge. People seemed quite reasonable about it -- it wasn't a religion. They used it for some of their kids now and then depending on their needs. Plus, I discovered that most of them used this super organized program that sounded very impressive. I had one or two years of school that were seriously awful growing up, and I liked the idea that if I had a kid struggling with a particular year of school down the road I could give them an alternative.

My kids have been in public school for the past two years and, despite the normal frets that most mothers have when sending their little ones into the world, I have been very pleased with their experiences so far. Still, when we found out we would be moving a few months ago, I knew that we might not be settled in a permanent (or semi-permanent) place for awhile and I really hated the thought of possibly moving my kids in and out of two or three schools in one year. I am sure they would have survived as many of your kids have probably had to do that and been fine, but I had been wanting to become familiar with the program anyway, so now seemed like a reasonable time -- particularly while I still had connections with so many people up in WA who had used it and could answer questions, etc. My plan is to put my kids back in school just as soon as we are in a home or at least know where we will be for a steady length of time.

As for how it is going -- It really is a commitment. I have to be far more there, prepared, and involved than I'd even realized. There are things (mostly fun things) that I see they clearly miss out on by not being in school, but it doesn't worry me too much since it is temporary. As for what they are learning, it is pretty amazing. I think they learn more each day than they generally did in a week or more of school just because it is so learning intensive and so one on one. One on two?

Anywho, hope that answers some of your questions -- no, I have not become a home school fanatic. Yes, it is pretty hard and some days I think it is way too crazy. Yes, they will be back in public school again, BUT I am very happy to know so much about how this particular program works now, and I amazed by the curriculum, and a good deal of it is pretty rewarding. I think I will use it down the road with a kid here or there if it seems like something they need. Whew, I tried to be brief, but I hate not really expressing my thoughts fully!

A Few Last Words

It’s not like I’m dying. I’m moving. Still, there is so much to say and just not enough time or energy to record it all, so here are a few last words from me – the Washington me – that are really not important at all, but are less to think about with my present flimsy brain.

Oh wait, how could I say this isn’t important? Hello, they are important (and don’t you girls let anyone tell you otherwise). Here are many of the friends I served in YW’s with (yah, a bunch of us are pregnant in this pic). We went to Applebee’s last night. (Jennifer, sorry you were taking the photo and not in it). I love how close you get to people when you serve with them. Thanks for planning it Alexa! (Marzee!! Where oh where were you!!??).

Now, on to the actual move. The very most painful thing about this move for Mike has been what I have done in packing so many of these boxes. If you can’t tell what unpardonable sin I have committed I won’t tell you, but it is pretty funny to see Mike looking at them, shaking his head and saying, “Fragile. This side up.” And then shaking his head some more.

Speaking of Mike. We were talking about tonight and I mentioned going to get my mom from the airport. He then said, “OK, and I’ll just be here getting things all cleaned up.” Then we both looked at each other and laughed and laughed like he had said the funniest thing a person could say. That Mike. He’s the worst. If nothing else, for making me like him so much in all of his . . . worstness. (What!! Spell check doesn’t recognize that word? Impossible.)

And, look what Goldie made! This is still totally related to my “moving” talk because my kids are awful and terrible lately because I give them so little attention as I am ever so busy cleaning and packing. But, isn’t it cute that Goldie went off all by her lonesome (even as she grumbled to Daisy, “I don’t like crafts” – because Daisy adores them and Goldie doesn’t like to let Daisy think she agrees with her too much on any given topic) and made this bird? It even has a beak and “two toes” for crying out loud!

Lastly, Goldie adores puzzles. We have like a million. They take up loads of space and the boxes always manage to get all broken so pieces fall out. So, look what I up and did as I packed. Ahhh, so much more room in the puzzle box. I had no idea how innovative and clever I could be. Really, I will probably be picked up by some show on how to organize your home now. I’m sure people have been miserable for years – unsure of how to better save space with all of their puzzles.

Alright, you will not hear from WA Nancy again. Next time you hear from me I will be a new different Nancy. I wonder if it will be a better or worse me. Oh how exciting for us all to wait and see. . . .

Entropy

You have to be careful when you tell anyone you were a science major. They automatically assume all sorts of things about what you know or what you can tutor their children in. It is biology alone where I have some level of understanding. “Yes,” you might say, “but you minored in Chemistry, certainly you would know enough to . . .” but no, I wouldn’t. It was a minor filled by default. And, that’s the trouble with “science” it encompasses Chemistry and Physics (which is oh so closely related to math). Naturally, being the whiz that I was, I generally managed to get A’s in any Chemistry or Physics I had to take (OK, I got my first and only B+ in one chemistry class, and the bitterness of that B+ lingers on), but those A’s were achieved through a very special method of learning, a very tricky method, a method that somehow allowed me to pass my tests without truly ever understanding a thing.

There were a few exceptions to my inability to truly connect with these subjects. I had a pretty good grasp on Biochemistry because it was all related to Biology. I also had an Astronomy class from an adjunct professor (who worked at Morton Thiokol by day). He made the aspects of Physics we discussed so fascinating that I owe him entirely for my mind taking up the idea of majoring in anything other than English (I love English, I’d just never ever thought of myself as someone who might enjoy, much less understand, anything sciencey). Although it is all very blurry now, he was so excited and animated as he told us a little about Einstein’s Theory of Relativity and a little something about Quantum Mechanics that it was all I could talk about for days after. Now it is all lost and jumbled somewhere in my mind so that I could only mumble something about time slowing down and something happening to mass and length as you reach the speed of light (which all of us in the class were eager to do – while we left a twin behind on earth to see the differences in how we’d age etc.). There was also something about electrons existing and not existing as they jumped energy levels – I don’t know, but I liked whatever it was.

The one concept that I held nearest to my heart in Chemistry or possibly Physics (one of those “science” classes that weren’t “my science”) was Entropy. I don’t think we spent a great deal of time on it. It had something to do with energy and disorder and chaos and things naturally tending to head in that direction, and it all struck me as perfectly easy to understand (not in any way related to what the teacher was talking about, but related to life in general drifting toward chaos). As I’ve become a mother and tried to make some efforts toward maintaining order in my home, the word “entropy” keeps flitting into my mind.

I read a little on entropy the other day to see just what it really was. And, with out knowing physics lingo, I can’t be sure, but it would appear that it relates somehow to the concept that energy can neither be created nor destroyed. Apparently, the Law of Entropy does not state that order must always decrease (as many have wrongly assumed). In fact, what I read stated that “it is possible for a closed system to produce order, even highly elaborate order, so long as there is greater increase in disorder somewhere else in the system.” Now, there is the key. No wonder this spoke to me so. I’m sure my home isn’t necessarily a “closed system,” and I doubt entropy was meant to apply to the chaos of our homes and lives . . . or maybe it is. It makes perfect sense. Yes, you may produce “even highly elaborate order” somewhere in your home, but it must then always follow that there will be a larger increase in disorder somewhere else in your home. I could apply this to so many aspects of my life. I am not sure if it makes me feel better or worse about how things go, but at least I know the fault doesn't simply lie with me -- it’s chemistry . . . or maybe physics. Either way, it’s a law of the Universe and there is no use fighting it.

Marshmellow Peeps

Who in their right mind would write about marshmallow peeps? No one is the answer, but I never have claimed to be in my “right mind.” I’m not even sure I know what my “right mind” is since I keep writing about things no one in their right mind would write about – meaning I must generally be in my “wrong mind;” and when put that way, it is very disturbing for me to think about – being in my wrong mind . . . obviously that is a place no one would ever want to be.

But, here I am, all in my wrong mind, (starting not only a sentence, but an entire paragraph with a conjunction!!) writing about marshmallow peeps. I will say, in my defense, that rather strong feelings seem to exist out there concerning these little treats. I once read an article about how many are produced and about web-sites devoted to doing crazy experiments, etc. with marshmallow peeps (the more I type that name, the sillier it sounds). So, I’m just saying that I am not alone in having thought about the little guys. Apparently loads of people are in their wrong minds when it comes to the sugary bunny shaped delights.

Now, to the meat of the matter (though there is probably no meat in the peeps): I couldn’t quite understand how I could have such unreasonable differing opinions about the treats when they are the same whatever the color or shape. Here are my feelings:

1. Marshmallow peeps are good at Easter time only. They are awful and not even worth considering when made as Halloween pumpkins and ghosts or as Christmas trees.

2. Even at Easter time, the only acceptable colors for peeps are pink and yellow. It makes me shudder to think of consuming the blue, green or purple varieties.

3. A peep, even one that meets all the above criteria, is only good if it has sat out and gotten a little hard.

There you have it. That is how I feel about the fellas. I confronted these thoughts the other day when Goldie had me buy some marshmallow peeps at the store. I was happy to oblige, it was Easter, they were pink, but they are still sitting down stairs in an open container waiting to harden. All at once I realized why the craziness of my thoughts. It is this: marshmallow peeps are really not very good. That is why I don’t like them at other holidays or in other colors. The soul reason I like them as I described in my three points is that in that way they are associated totally with happy childhood memories – before peeps started expanding their horizons with other holidays and other colors, when they were simply the two colored Easter variety that my parents would hide for us to find on Easter morning – after they’d sat out all night getting a bit crunchy. It makes me happy to remember this and it makes me laugh that I could like a treat purely through association with a happy childhood memory. Thanks mom and dad for all the happy holiday memories I have! I will always remain loyal to the pink and yellow Easter peeps because I will associate any attack upon them as an insult to my happy childhood.

With that warning said, you may as well all comment because I know every last one of you has something to say about the very odd little treats.

Pregnancy Trade-Offs

The other day I was talking with some friends at church. One is pregnant with her first child. When asked how her pregnancy was going, she complained that she felt she was loosing her mind a bit. My friend with two children quickly assured her not to worry. "It comes back," she said. "Comes back?" I wondered, as my thoughts inadvertantly turned to
the glass of milk at home on my counter.

If it looks a bit odd, it is because it has several scoops of formula in it. You see, I made the fatal mistake of motherhood, which is thinking that I could do two things at once (namely drink some milk while making a bottle for Penny) and actually do them both right. The even more interesting thing about motherhood is, not only can you never do two or more things at the same time and get them right, but you will ALWAYS be doing two or more things at the same time . . . which means that most things you do will be wrong.

I smiled and assured my pregnant friend that her steel trap mind would go right back to normal. I may have neglected to add that it would be a new normal . . . very different from the old normal. Even if she knew this frightening truth though, it would be ok. It's not a bad trade-off. For each ounce of lost ability to think correctly, put things where they belong (like milk in the fridge and not in the cupboard), and talk intelligently, you get some pretty great stuff. Like these here kids below. In fact I think there exists a direct link between how much mental capability you lose during pregnancy and how great the kid turns out. The more you lose, the better the kid. That is why mine are so great.