Tonight, Tonight

The kids aren't sleeping.

I'm folding clothes, watching the pre-Olympic Opening Ceremonies coverage, trying to be happy about the Games, but only managing to be sad about the luge athlete who died today.

Mama is working late. And I have no idea when she'll be home.

And we have a lot to do for the weekend, which brings not only the Olympics and Valentine's Day, but most importantly Chinese New Year.

Countless Meditation

I've been meditating more a lot recently, at odd times of the day when the kids become absorbed in their play and I have 5-10 minutes to sit by myself quietly.

And so I've been counting my breaths. It's been really hard for me lately. I lose track of which number I'm on and have to start over, get frustrated that I'm not focused . . . and then the "jackal" voice starts that I'm "not doing it right." And I keep trying but sometimes the 5 minutes becomes an exercise in frustration instead of real meditation.

I just read an article in Shambhala Sun (and I really need to remember to subscribe to that) by Thich Nhat Hanh (link contains just a very short excerpt) that outlines steps for mindfulness. And one of them is, instead of counting breaths while meditating, to just acknowledge the breathing in and the breathing out: "Breathing in, I know that I am breathing in." And so this afternoon, with the kids happily playing pirates in the basement (pirates are very big in our house right now), I sat recognizing my breath in and breath out. And then once I could do that for a bit, settled in, shall we say, I started counting breaths again. And this time, I was able to sustain my counting to 10 more than I have in awhile, without getting distracted or disappointed in having to start all over.

And that has made all the difference.

Rainbow-Colored Valentines

It's Valentine's Day, at least in the schools. And my kiddos left preschool today with a bag full of friendly pink-and-red, chocolate-covered, lollipop-laden, toy-topped cards and notes. Some were handmade (ours were finished yesterday afternoon, accompanied by mini-playdoughs), some were favorite-themed store bought. All came from excited and proud kids who each took turns delivering them to cubbies.

As soon as they could, my kids dumped their stashes and waded through the loot, which included bubbles, a bracelet, tattoos, candy, and, perhaps their favorite, prismatic glasses that create rainbows when you look at the light (I had a silver-gray pair that I was immensely fond of as a kid). They wore them all through lunch and were just astounded at the colors everywhere.

Unlike last year, the kiddos could identify some of the names written so carefully on the cards, just as they could in turn write their own whole names on their own cards. And I think they understood that these valentines are expressions of friendship.

Now that the school cards are done, we have a few more to make, mainly for all of our family members (which, considering I haven't managed to finish Christmas cards, practically makes us early!). They're looking forward to doing that this afternoon. Until then, happy early hearts day to you!

Snowhenge

I thought it was just some movie magic or something you see in cartoons--when kids rolled little bitty snowballs into big giant snowballs that could be used as snowmen. But it actually works! Sis started doing it yesterday, rolling a little ball around in the snow. Soon enough, it was almost as big as she was! And impossible to move. So she left it there and started over again. And each time she rolled the ball, it would pick up all the snow, right down to the grass, creating this odd snowless path behind her. Bud got in on the action. And now there are about 8 giant snow rocks in our yard, strewn across the landscape, something like the megaliths at Stonehenge. I promise a picture soon.

That wasn't our only snow activity, though. The kids and I shoveled the last bits of the driveway and cleaned up the edges of the sidewalk, so that all the ice could melt and evaporate on what was a pretty warm day, relatively speaking. They love their new little shovels and were very eager to help clean up. So much so that we hauled down to our neighbor's house and helped her clean up her walk and driveway, too (and see, I didn't put help in quotes, because I think they did actually move some snow for her.). In the end, there wasn't as much snow as predicted--probably only about 4-5" and it feels like even less because it was actually above freezing during the snowstorm, which was odd because even as large amounts of fluffy white snow fell it was melting and compressing on the ground. But I have no need to compete with DC or Buffalo or the Midwest or the like; they can keep their snow records and I'll take a convenient few inches and a snow day.

There was a post over at Motherlode a few days ago about what to do with kids on snow days. And it never ceases to amaze me how argumentative, disagreeable, and judgmental people can be. She was asking for ideas to keep kids occupied for an extended period of time since school was closed down in DC for a week. And the commentors just blew up, with

• Send the kids out in the snow, fools. No wonder Americans are fat!
• What is it with stay-at-home-moms' needs to provide activities? Can't your kids entertain themselves?
• You better make them do schoolwork since they're missing all that important learning time.

It was harsh and hostile. Some people did finally post suggestions, myself included, because we recognize that

• kids can't play outside in the snow 12 hours a day, seven days at a time, especially when there is 36" on the ground with much larger banks and very cold conditions;
• SAHM do allow their kids to play independently but when you are in the house together for days at a time it is a good idea to actually spend some time together having fun and ideas for new activities are always welcome;
• schoolwork will wait; there are other kinds of learning that having nothing to do with books and everything to do with seizing a really unique opportunity for play and togetherness.

And so, in light of that, I want to include here some of the ideas that the helpful posters mentioned (cutting and pasting directly from the post so not all the words are mine. Can you find the ones that are?):

1. Use duct tape to connect your young child's mittens to his/her coat at the wrist. Yes, it looks trashy. But it works. You'll never lose a mitten, your child will never get snow up her sleeve, and when she comes in to use the bathroom, coats with mittens slip on and off so easily. The tape comes off easily when you want it to, leaves no residue.

2. Bring heaps of snow in for the kids to play with in the bathtub or sink. The kids must be dying to play with it even if they can't take the conditions outside. Let them make mini snowmen, push it around with dump trucks, create habitats for their plastic animals....

3. Make snow cream. (google it)

4. Drizzle maple syrup on snow like they do in Little House books.

5. Take advantage of the anomalous weather and google winter crafts. You can make frozen votives to put on your porch, colored ice wreaths, etc.

6. Use spray bottles filled with colored water to paint on the snow.

7. Take advantage of the forced indoors-ness to stock up on freezer meals and do some serious cleaning. Even if you can't get work work done, you can get domestic work done with kids underfoot (or even "helping"). And then you won't feel so frustrated at the end of the day because there's some sense of accomplishment.

Here come some ideas for young kids playing indoors:

8. Play school. Print off worksheets found online and take turns being the teacher who gets to correct with a red pencil. My kids also like to set up a school for all of their stuffed animals, and then pretend to be the teacher who uses the chalkboard easel. I'm usually the lunch lady.

9. Set up a post office. Young kids love to "write" letters, address envelopes, stick a sticker/stamp on, and deliver to pretend mailboxes scattered around the house. Or set up a library, with a stamper to check out books.

10. Let them take really long baths with all their army men and Polly Pockets.

11. Set up a carwash for Matchbox cars in the sink. Soap suds and a toothbrush will do. Plastic zoo animals are also fun to clean.

12. You can find patterns for legos online.

13. Let them play store with items from the pantry. They'll need to make money out of construction paper, which occupies them for a while too.

14. Drag out a pile of coloring or activity books, set them up in a circle, and set a timer. You have to switch every x minutes. This is also fun with pictures, where one kid (or parent) starts a picture, and the other finishes. Also fun with stories, but that's for older kids who don't need entertaining.

15. Make homemade notecards (folded paper that the kid draws a picture on). Make stamps out of potatoes or sponges and make homemade wrapping paper. Crafts with a purpose make me feel less useless.

Make windowsill snowmen, make windowsill snow snowcones, bake cookies, go outside, hot cocoa, movie, clean your room, run the dog around in the snow, do your homework in case there is school tomorrow, dinner, movie, bed. If the snow persists, invite a friend to come over tomorrow and repeat the above list. Feel free to add to it from your own ideas. I am your faithful chaperone and I enjoy your company, but I am not your birthday party clown!-- I don't get paid enough for that.

A few things to do with all that snow:

1. Snow ice cream (admittedly, something you have to plan for by putting bowls out the night before): 5 cups of clean white snow + 1/2 can sweetened condensed milk + vanilla extract optional = great treat.

2. Paint: food coloring + water in a squirt bottle = outdoor art

3. Snow Slushie: more clean snow + your favorite soda = an icee

4. Snow candy: boil 1 c maple syrup and 1/2 T butter on the stove + pour into clean snow in ribbons (or bring it inside on a cookie sheet if possible) = candy when it cools

Other ideas include

making peanut butter (or crisco/corn syrup if allergies) bird feeders (on pine cone or on 1/2 stale bagel);

obstacle courses (or living room floor labyrinths) with masking tape and couch pillows;

make your own books with drawings and captions;

science fun (oil and water w/colorings; boil ice cubes to steam; baking soda and vinegar messes; cornstarch and water goop);

art projects galore (try freezing water w/food coloring and using ice cubes as paint brushes!; homemade playdough with glitter/color/extract add-ins)

Have fun!

The same goes for when coloring books are filled, just print out pictures from the internet that are meant to be colored.

Do a 10 day trial of Netflix and give yourself a break by either letting your kids watch movies/shows that aren't on TV or residing in your DVD collection, or take advantage of the educational programs on the site and find ones related to what your children are learning in school.

Make homemade play-dough or bubbles out of dish soap.

Let your child take control of the digital camera and take pictures of the family having fun together, your pets in silly pictures (even better if they're dressed up), or the snow out the window. Print out a few of them each day and make a scrapbook of all the extra time you got to spend together.

Do you have a breadmaker that hasn't been used in years? Take it out let the kids help you find fun recipes to make.

Have you be planning on going through your kids clothes and sorting out what no longer fits? Use your unplanned days home to do it.

If you happen to be crafty, take some of the old clothes, cut them up and make doll clothes or bedding with them. Teach your kids to sew a simple stitch and how to sew on buttons. Make hand puppets out of unmatched socks, then have your kids act out their favorite stories.

I know many of you are going stir-crazy after so many days inside, but try to be grateful that you're getting so much time with your family.

Anyway, one of the ideas they had was to have a brownie bake-off. Give each kid a box of brownie mix, a bunch of add ins (choc. chips, cookies, gummies, rainsins, dirt off the floor) and have them make their own creation. Then the adult(s) get to judge each one. I like it because it gives me an excuse to eat brownies.

* Picnics in the living room

* Mix everything up: breakfast for dinner, dinner for breakfast. Pajamas during the daytime. Dessert before dinner. Anything out of the ordinary gets a laugh out of little kids.

* Also for the younger set: obstacle courses in your living room, dining room, etc., made out of pillows, furniture, anything you have.

* Teach a cooking class, and vow not to care about the mess your kids make. Or teach a class in whatever skill/interest you have. Again, promise yourself not to care about the mess or the results.

* Watch that movie your family has been too busy to put in the DVD player.

* If you've got a six-year-old boy: Star Wars Festival.

* Read something together.

* Read something else.

* For those kids who are inclined toward this type of creativity: have them write and illustrate their own mini-books.

* Get ready for the Olympics! Find Vancouver on a map, check out the different sports on the internet. Figure out which ones you'll want to watch. Plan a special dinner for Friday's opening ceremonies. (Hint: salmon & nanaimo bars.)

* Have your kids make a list of all the things you've done wrong since the snow began to fall. (This could take hours).

* Have them go through the list and try to do everything better than you did.

* If they complain too much, make them clean the house.

Today I read them some passages from Little House on Plum Creek in which Laura and her family endure blizzard after blizzard. I had to endure a little eye-rolling to get them settled down to listen, but they did enjoy it once we got going.

Vanity, Thy Name is Mommy Hungry

I got a haircut yesterday, in advance of Chinese New Year this weekend (a tradition said to confuse the evil spirits who won't recognize you), at my usual place, with my usual person.

But it is not my usual haircut.

Except, I didn't ask for anything new. Just a little off the bottom.

But she must have done this "thing." All on her own, despite what I said yesterday and what we always do. Which, not seeing that he was doing something different, because I can't tell how you cut hair, I didn't notice until I got home and washed it (because she always does this funky ugly straightening thing so it doesn't look like me until I wash it. Bud even said to me when I got home, "Um, Mommy, I like the way you usually look." Me, too). It's layered somehow, though we have a clear "no layers" rule. And it is much shorter than the little pinch of an inch I showed her as we started. What was she thinking?

I HATE it.

I have few physical vanities, but one of them is my hair, which I think is one of my few beauties (for full disclosure, I think my others are my hands and my eyes.). Not that I do anything with it special, sometimes just managing the "mommy bun." But I like the color and the crazy waviness of it--I even like the two grey hairs growing in front. And I like it longer even if I know it probably looks better short.

And so I am devastated by this haircut.

And I don't know what to do, besides crawl in bed until it grows out, which is going to take forever. First, rationally, it is very silly to get upset about something that will change quickly and that really, in the grand scheme of things, is completely immaterial. Second, if she were to trim it to one length, I would look like Mama; it would have to be that short. Because of the f**king layers. And I don't want short. Third, and related to number two, confronting her about it now wouldn't work; we'll just have to have a talk before she can cut my hair again.

And so, for now, I'm stewing and avoiding mirrors (which is easy because, like tv, we only have one in the house and it's a little one). But I can feel the difference when I shake my head, brush my now much thinner and lighter hair, and couldn't put it up in anything this morning.

I'm going to try to touch base with reality and get some perspective, which is obviously sorely needed. But right now, the only good thing I can say is, with all the hair she took off, I'll at least weigh a few ounces less at weigh in this morning.

Reminder

Just a reminder to myself not to blog on Thursday, since I totally forgot last week. I'll tell you on Friday about the end of the snow, decorating for Chinese New Year, and whatever we do on Thursday.

Lazy Afternoon

We had a long rest time, with Mama upstairs with the kids and me asleep on the couch. These rare family-day naps are one of my favorite treats--I sleep deeply uninterrupted in the middle of the day. Such indulgence!

Then we got up--and I could see the swirling, fluffy snow out the windows without even putting my glasses on--and had our snow ice cream. Nothing like sweetened condensed milk! Though, the pretty snow was a tad too icy and cold and didn't mix with the sugary milk very well. Not our best batch, but you never know until you try (but our popcorn balls earlier were the best ever).

So, now, we're reading some of our new Chinese New Year books, which have inspired Bud to draw more dragons and also phoenixes (two of the books are by gloriously illustrated by Demi: The Boy Who Painted Dragons and The Girl Who Drew a Phoenix). Mama is heading downstairs soon to get our red decorations for the New Year.

But first, she's going to snow blow the driveway.

Snowball Fight!

Who can resist going out in the snow? And so, knowing the winds would pick up and the snow would grow heavier, we all suited up to enjoy outside (I still love my snow pants). The kids helped shovel the walks and driveway with the new mini-shovels I found at the store yesterday. They loved making pathways in the approximately 2-3" we already had. I think another inch fell while we were outside, for their paths quickly filled up. The best part was the snowball fight we had all over the backyard, alternately doing moms vs. kids, purples vs. blues (based on coat color), 3 against 1 mom. Fun! I scraped most of my snow off the top of the little house, which then also served as a blockade for me. The kids are very adept at chasing the unbroken bits of the balls Mama and I throw and using those as their own, not quite having the hang of making snowballs yet. We have a no-faces rule, which is hard because everyone's aim (well, except maybe Mama's) is a little off-kilter. As the snow got heavier and heavier (and is even more heavier now), we decided to come in for, you guessed it, popcorn balls and hot chocolate. (We're saving the snow ice cream for our afternoon snack!).

It's a Blizzard Out There

The snow has started, though perhaps not as early or as much (yet) as originally predicted. We're still slated to get about 12" in the next 18-24 hours though. So schools are closed and will probably be delayed tomorrow. Best yet, Mama is staying home, too. So, it's a fun-filled, family day. And our bowls for snow ice cream are already outside. But otherwise, I don't see us going outside much until it's over. They don't call these "blizzards" for nothing.

Sending More Love

• to Granny Q, for a speedy return home and much healing. We pulled out the Valentine's Day pillowcases you made the kids this week--they get excited to sleep on the holiday cases as the holiday approaches.
• to Miss M, Gommie's friend, for a quick return to health and strength.

Snow Emergency

We're now looking at 12-18" of snow over the next 36 hours.

And what does your average Connecticut suburban mom rush to the store for on the eve of such a blizzard?

Classroom valentines!

I was just at the store and I'd say about 25 moms, kids in tow, were scrounging around the valentine section, desperate to find the perfect box of cards and bag of treats.

But I get it. Tomorrow will be a snow day--NYC has already cancelled classes, which is almost unheard of--and Thursday will be messy. Friday is the day for classroom parties. Now is the time to prepare.

So forget milk and eggs and bread. Go grab that last bag of SweetHearts! It's not too late ( if you're brave and not choosy).

A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Backyard

Gommie had sent the kids a Valentine's Day package with these great, sturdy parachute guys, so we decided to head outside around 4 p.m. to test them. Bud was in pajama pants, which I let slide because I didn't think we'd be out long (because it was about 25F outside!); his coat was in the car.

And then I realized I'd left my keys in the house. We were locked out.

Which meant I couldn't fetch Bud's coat from the car either. Because I always lock my car.

Just like I always take my keys with me.

Oddly, I had my cell phone in my pocket, which I don't usually take out on short outside ventures--I wonder if I thought I'd grabbed my keys? So I called Mama and warned her what was up as I began to search for the keys in our secret hiding place. She said to call back in 5 minutes or she would be heading home, knowing it was just that cold. Meanwhile, Bud and Sis were running around the yard playing excitedly with their new toys.

I called my friend, Mama Teacher, who keeps a spare key at her house about a half mile away and she said she'd bring it over on her way home from work (she's a teacher and was almost home when I called).

And then I heard screaming. Bud had fallen off the swing and was upset. I was upset when I saw blood on his mouth, but soon realized it was only a small cut which he hadn't even noticed. Not wanting him to freak about blood, I didn't even mention it. And luckily, Sis hadn't seen it.

Because she was thinking that she had to poop.

I tried my car doors in a last-hope effort and realized they were unlocked. So Bud got his coat and Sis got her portable potty. But my wipes were frozen. And then I spotted a pack of toilet paper that we'd accidentally left in the car on our last trip to the warehouse store. Saved.

After I got that all settled and they were playing again, I found the keys! But I couldn't get them to work. So I called Mama again (believe it or not, that all happened in the space of only about 7 minutes)--if my secret key didn't work, would Mama Teacher's? Mama headed home.

And it's true, Mama Teacher's spare key didn't work. She was disappointed that she hadn't been able to rescue us (you're still Super Mama Teacher to me, though!). She then offered to put my car seats in her car so we could be warm at her house, but I knew Mama would be home. So, we had a quick, freezing playdate in the backyard, unscheduled but completely (well, maybe not completely, as it was getting colder!) enjoyable.

Mama showed up. And she managed to open the door with the secret key! Of course. She must have the gift. And we had thought the keys all worked because she had checked them. (My strategy, which was to leave one window unlocked so I could always shimmy in was rejected when the double-hung panes kept slipping and setting off the house alarm! But it worked like a charm the one other time I've locked myself out, that time, with the kids in the house.)

My dad, when I told him the story last night, said that you have to test a system with the weakest link.

But I say, all's well that ends well.

And thanks for those parachute guys, Gommie!

Blood in the Basement

(that sounds like it should be a Halloween post, no?)

"Mommy," they called up from the basement playroom as I was cleaning up breakfast this morning, "there are brown spots all over the basement."

Oh, heavens.

Blood.

But I knew the two cats were fine, had been wandering around this morning, had slept with Mama and I half the night, even if they hadn't eaten much of their dinner from yesterday.

And now I know why.

They had a mouse midnight snack.

Or at least that's my best guess since there are no remainders yet discovered to give me a clue. And the cats don't have any injuries--the vet (yes, I called the vet. These are indoor cats and there isn't usually blood) said it might have been a torn nail or pad. But they are strangely perky, even feral, this morning.

I'm guessing they got in touch with their inner cat last night.

Cat food and cloth mice are going to be such a disappointment for them from now on.

Here is a Wonderful Day

"There is a Wonderful Game" by Hafiz

There is a wonderful game we should play,
And it goes like this:
We hold hands and look into each other's eyes
And scan each other's face.
Then I say,
"Now tell me a difference you see between us."
And you respond,
"Hafiz, your nose is ten times bigger than mine!"
Then I would say,
"Yes, my dear, almost ten times!"
But let's keep playing.
Let's go deeper,
Go deeper.
For if we do,
Our spirits will embrace
And interweave.
Our union will be so glorious
That even God
Will not be able to tell us apart.
There is a wonderful game
We should play with everyone
And it goes like this...

from I Heard God Laughing- Renderings of Hafiz by David Ladinsky

Saturday was the day-long nonviolent communication (NVC) workshop (which was started with the above quote) that I had been worried about and preparing for all week. And it was marvelous. Though it was the same material and instructor as the workshop I attended last year, I had more insights and was inspired. Without delving into NVC theories, which you can gather here, I want to give you a snapshot of my day:

• If you ask a mom "how are you?" she will often answer about her kids. Trust me, it's exactly what happened to me when I met up with my co-organizers. Miss J (yes, there are a lot of people in my life whose names start with that letter) asked how I was doing, and I said that the kids were feeling better. Which I guess means I was feeling better, but really shows sometimes how out of touch with ourselves we can be.
• During these workshops, we often get into small groups to go over a situation that we would like to explore with more clarity. Mine was the recent uncomfortable conversation at the "dinosaur museum" with the nosy questioners. And so, my honest expression (OFNR--observation, feeling, need, request) was something along the lines of "When I hear you asking questions about my family, I feel worried because I need respect and acceptance. Would you be willing to change the subject?" Or something like that. Anyway, one of my group members said, basically, "B.S. Tell them to shut up." But I often see these conversations as a teachable moment for people who are more curious or ignorant that actually mean. Sometimes, however, like that time, they can also be very ill-timed, especially with my in-laws there and the kids listening. And so, with the help of the trainer, I realized that I'm torn in these situations--I want to address the questions in a meaningful way so as to both reach out to the stranger but also to model for the kids how to be proud of our family while at the same time I want to be with my family and not satisfy the ideal curiosity of strangers while we're trying to have a good time. So, as the trainer suggested, I need to be real, not nice. To figure out what I really want in any situation and then say so, something like, "I'm torn. I appreciate your interest but today I'm trying to spend time with my kids." I'm still working on it, but it gives me a start for addressing questions that we get frequently and which I've never known how to answer.
• The trainer, in talking to me about that, also said something illuminating: when you have two needs that can't be met simultaneously (and isn't choosing "correctly"--or I should say the most effective for your long-term needs--between them one of the definitions of being an adult?), take a moment to acknowledge or mourn that one of your needs will be unfulfilled. For example, it comes in handy with mindful eating (or parenting or budgeting or whatever): let's say I want a piece of birthday cake but one of my long-term needs is healthy living. But the birthday cake fulfills my short-term need for fun. And so you choose, and sometimes you eat that cake and say, "I'll eat better tomorrow," but more often, if you really want to meet that long-term need, you mourn the birthday cake and eat something else. (I'm mixing a few things here but I think it makes sense). It works with all sorts of things and really clarifies for me the decision-making process on all sorts of topics.
• Following the above, I really appreciated the statement "assume incompetence not malevolence." This is particularly relevant to something in my own life, though I'm not sure I would use "incompetence," perhaps ignorance, as in not aware of the effect. There are a couple of people in my life who don't talk to me. Not "won't," as far as I know, in that there hasn't been a fight or disagreement. Just don't. I email and/or call; they never return the calls. Or acknowledge them. Or I comment on their blogs; nada, zip, zilch in return. Even when I think what I have to say is important or interesting or worthy of response, if only a "thanks for letting me know." Okay, I'm not on Facebook, which is a hurdle, perhaps, I'm guessing from these situations, an insurmountable one. But I've been hoping these people would meet me halfway, if only to email and say, "why don't you call me instead?" And I try to think it isn't personal, vindictive, aggressive (if only passive), or, as in the quote, malevolent. Especially because I know I am probably "that person" in other relationships (Lambeth can attest to how often I don't reply to his emails directly, even if, also in that case, it is in no way malevolent). But it also leaves me unsure of what to do next, scared even of what they might be thinking, wondering what it is about me? When really, I'm betting it isn't about me at all. Their silent "no" just means they are meeting their needs another way, a way that just doesn't involve me (see bullet after next). And, until we connect, that's just where we are for now.
• As well as "everyone is always doing the best they can."
• And "a no is a tragic expression of a yes." Which sounds confusing but is based on the NVC assertion that everything we do is a strategy to meet a need--sometimes it's not effective, but it is still about meeting needs (and all feelings come from the fulfillment, or un-, of needs). Which means if someone says no to you about helping you meet one of your own needs, it is because that person is trying to meet one of his or her own. And that's when you can ask, connect, and try to reach both of your needs. For example, "Would you be able to watch my kids on Tuesday?" "No." But the "no" isn't mean, the no is because perhaps that person is already having a babysitter come to watch their kids. And if you could talk about that, you could perhaps share the babysitter expenses or reschedule or something . . . I think the saying encourages me not to take "no" answers, especially from the kids so personally, but instead to try to figure out what they are saying "yes" to and go from there.
• Some studies suggest it takes 6 seconds for your conscious brain to react to a situation, while your "reptilian" brain kicks in immediately. The secret is to wait a bit and think about a situation. I guess the oft-recommended idea to count to 10 is a good one.
• Many people seemed fine with all the NVC ideas, except when it came to raising children. They just couldn't grasp the idea of the partner-parent who tries to encourage a connection with children through dialogue instead of more of a top-down/rules-and-consequences structure. Sure, it sounds like a free-for-all, but in practice--and I know because I practice it a lot, sometimes not very effectively--it's not structure-free. It's just that the structure is arrived at through mutual respect and conversation, which I believe makes it more meaningful and lasting (and before Lambeth comments about following instructions, my kids are very clear about health-and-safety rules as well as the difference between a demand and a request--one can't be an option, the other can. I just have to practice stating it all correctly.) So, it meant a lot to me that the trainer talked a bit about parenting, which is my main practice area for NVC because Mama and I just don't have that much conflict (and because she is more wary of my new language than the kids, even if I know she'd admit that it has helped us be clear with one another). I'm just sorry the other participants, many of whom were parents or teachers/principals or felt they were raised right by disciplining parents, couldn't hear what we were trying to explain with open ears.
• Wow, the food was good, from Rev. M's famous Oatmeal Molasses Bread and Mini-Muffins to her Roasted Root Vegetable Soup, to the refreshing salad, and my Potato and Greens Soup and Brownies. We all felt very taken care of. Homemade food makes all the difference, even something as simple as soup and bread.
• I bought some books and two puppets, a jackal and a giraffe, hopefully to help me introduce and illuminate NVC for the kids. And the kids LOVE the puppets. I explained very briefly, the next morning, about the giraffe and the jackal, two animal symbols of different types of talk: giraffe talk being the honest expression of compassionate communication and jackal talk being the more common use of judgments, labels, evaluations, "shoulds/shouldn'ts," demands, lack of choice, and blame. As I did it, I made the jackal alternately whiny and bossy. Sis immediately said, "I don't want to be the jackal. I want to be the giraffe!" Of course, in NVC, neither is "good" or "bad" but the giraffe is more effective at meeting needs through a quality of connection while the jackal often alienates us from ourselves and others. (Yes, that's all NVC speak, much of it adapted from a small booklet entitled Communication FUNdamentals by Jean Morrison and Christine King, which I bought at the workshop). And we practiced the voices as we cleaned up their room for Chinese New Year. It's a start but they were very receptive. To the point that, more than once since then, Sis and Bud have said, "Use your giraffe voice" or "That's jackal talk." Awareness is half the battle, I'd say. And we've got a start.

So, a great, rejuvenating day. Which is why I am now doubly sorry that I probably can't attend the next workshop because Mama is working several Friday night/Saturday combos in the next two months. I'm going to try to arrange childcare, but I'm also trying to accept that maybe my need for NVC won't be met this time around. But I can still practice.

"Out Beyond Ideas" by Rumi (13th-century Sufi mystic)

Out beyond ideas of wrong-doing and right-doing,
there is a field.
I'll meet you there.
When the soul lies down in that grass,
the world is too full to talk about.
Ideas, language, even the phrase
each other
doesn't make any sense.

(translation by Coleman Barks)

-=-=-=-=-

Roasted Root Vegetable Soup

To Make Roasted Root Vegetables

1 lb rutabagas

1 lb turnips

1 lb yams

1 lb fennel

12 oz carrots

1/2 lb halved Brussel sprouts

1/2 lb cauliflower florettes

12 oz carrots

2 lb onions

4 tablespoons olive oil

2 teaspoon sea salt

black pepper

2 teaspoon fresh thyme leaves or 1 teaspoon dried

2 teaspoons finely chopped fresh sage or 1 teaspoon crumbled dried sage

For the Soup

1/3 cup pearl barley

1/2-1 teaspoon sea salt

5-7 cups any basic vegetable broth

4 cups roasted root vegetables

1/2 cup whole leaves fresh flat-leaf parsley

2-3 teaspoons sherry vinegar

Preheat oven to 375. Peel and dice all vegetables to uniform size, about 1 inch. Mix teh vegetables in a large bowl with olive oil, salt, pepper, thyme, and sage (the original recipe calls for 3 tablespoons of dry sherry). Spread the vegetables over 2 shallow pans and roast for an hour until they are tender and flecked with dark spots. Mix and turn vegetables a few times during roasting and switch pans halfway through. When you are done, you will have about 8 cups of vegetables (which seems to suggest, you can make half of the vegetables called for in the recipe to reduce cutting and peeling time!).

Combine the barley in a large pot with 1 1/2 cups water, a dash of salt, and 5 cups broth. Bring to a boil, lower heat, and simmer, covered for about 35 minutes. The barley will swell 2-3 times its original size. Add the 4 cups of mixed roasted vegetables and simmer for 15 minutes. Add more salt if necessary. Add parsley and vinegar during last few minutes. Add more broth if too thick.

Note: You can add olive oil at the end, or serve with fresh goat cheese or cream. Also mushrooms, noodles in place of barley, and a variety of herbs can be used.

adapted from Anna Thomas, Love Soup

-=-=-=-=-

Sour Cream Lemon Streusel Muffins

2 cups flour

1/2 cup sugar

1 tablespoon baking powder

1 teaspoon grated lemon peel

1/2 teaspoons salt

1 cup walnuts, chopped

1/2 cup sour cream

1/2 cup milk

1/2 cup butter, melted

1 egg, beaten

1 tablespoons sugar

Preheat oven to 400 degrees. Grease muffin cups or line with paper. In large bowl, combine flour, 1/2 cup sugar, baking powder, lemon peel, salt, and walnuts. In small bowl, combine sour cream, milk, butter, and egg until blended. Stir into flour mixture just until moistened. Spoon into muffin cups. Sprinkle remaining 1 tablespoon sugar over tops. Bake 15-20 minutes for regular sized muffins, 20-25 minutes for jumbo, or until cake tester comes out clean. Remove from pan and cool on rack. Makes 12 regular-sized muffins.

Rev. M

-=-=-=-=-

Penny's Seed Muffins

1 1/2 cup all purpose flour (may use whole wheat pastry flour, if desired)

1/2 cup whole wheat flour (may use whole wheat pastry flour, if desired)

1 teaspoon baking soda

1 teaspoon baking powder

1/2 teaspoon salt

2 tablespoons sesame seeds (raw or toasted)

2 tablespoons poppy seeds

2 tablespoons wheat term

1/2 cup brown sugar

1/2 cup nutmeats, chopped

1 cup buttermilk

1/4 cup vegetable oil

1 egg

Stir together flours, baking powder, baking soda, and salt. Stir in brown sugar, nuts, wheat germ, and seeds. Beat together buttermilk, egg, and oil and pour into dry ingredients. Stir to blend. Fill a dozen greased muffin cups. Bake at 400 for 20 minutes.

Rev. M

-=-=-=-=-=-

First and Foremost Brownies

1/2 cup butter

8 oz bittersweet chocolate

1/2 cup brown sugar

1/2 cup granulated sugar

3 eggs at room temperature

2 teaspoons vanilla extract

1/2 cup flour

1/4 teaspoon kosher salt

Preheat oven to 300F. Line an 8" square pan with overhanging parchment paper.

Melt the butter and cook until it becomes light brown and smells wonderful. Remove from the heat. Cool for 10 minutes.

Add the chocolate and melt. Stir until smooth. Add the sugars and mix well. The mixture will be grainy. Add the eggs 1 at a time, mixing until the batter is glossy and thick. Add the vanilla, then the flour, mixing only enough to incorporate the flour. Add the salt and mix briefly (adding the salt at the end of the mixing lends a wonderful contrast to the sweetness).

Pour into the prepared pan and bake for 25-30 minutes. The edges will be firm but the center will be slightly soft, yet puffed. Remove from the oven and chill completely.

Note: this batter can be refrigerated and frozen indefinitely. Brownies, wrapped well, store in the fridge for 1 month or in the freezer for up to 6 months.

Lisa Slater, The Brownie Lover's Bible

The Potato Meditation

The recipe said 8 potatoes.

But I was doubling it.

That meant I needed to scrub, peel, and cube 16 potatoes.

And just as I was contemplating a new recipe, I remembered a two articles I'd recently read, Karen Maezen Miller's "Do Dishes, Rake Leaves (And Don't Forget the Endless Loads of Laundry)" and Edward Espe Brown's article "Let Your Passion Cook" on mindful cooking, both in the recent issue of Shambhala Sun. Having long cooked at the Tassajara Zen Center and written the famed Tassajara Bread Book, Brown writes about eschewing recipes in order to connect with ingredients and process, quoting Suzuki Roshi on working in the kitchen, "When you wash the rice, wash the rice. When you cut the carrots, cut the carrots. When you stir the soup, stir the soup." Similarly, Zen priest and author Miller writes,

When we cultivate nondistracted awareness as a formal practice, we call it mindfulness meditation. When we cultivate it in our home life, we call it the laundry, the kitchen, or the yard—all the places and the ways to live mindfully by attending without distraction to whatever appears before us. But it’s hard for most to believe that attention is all there is to it, and so we complicate things with our judgment—debasing the ordinary as insignificant and idealizing the spiritual as unattainable—never seeing that the two are one.

And so I realized that I just needed to do the potatoes. Not fight doing the potatoes, not do just 2/3 of the potatoes, not change to a recipe without potatoes, not wait for Mama to come home so she could do the cutting of the potatoes. The potatoes were there for me to do and I was the one who was going to do them. So I started washing and peeling and cutting. I "peeled" my hand three times, but just put on a bandaid and kept going (they were little annoying knicks; sometimes I'm not a great peeler. Or cuber). I got bored. My lower back got tight. 6+ lbs of potatoes is a lot of potatoes for me. And instead of trying to distract myself with my kitchen radio or a phone call, I tried to focus on the potatoes. How they felt, the most efficient way to peel, even cubes. Even how my finger slice throbbed and how my back was tight. And when I got halfway, when all the peeling was done, I almost faltered--it looked like such a ton of potatoes. Did the recipe really call for 16? So I went back to the source and indeed it was 16 potatoes. Couldn't I just do 8 or 10 and "let" Mama make the rest into mashed potatoes or something? But I kept going. And with 3 left, I was so elated. I knew I had done it without giving up. And when it was done, I happily stood there looking at the messy cutting board, the empty collander, the full stew pot.

And I cleaned up and kept cooking.

THE SAINTS HAVE MARCHED IN!

They won!

I Can't Watch

Oh, the Saints.

I just can't watch, even though they've gotten ahead, am only refreshing the NYTimes live analysis of the game every now and again.

I want them to win, much like I wanted the Yankees to win this year and in 2001.

And so the kids and I watched some of the pregame, then spread out extra blankets on the bed and had our own special Super Bowl dinner party upstairs. I think the only thing they understood was that we were rooting for the Saints (which are the team, most importantly for them, from the Imagination Movers' hometown!)

And then Sis said, "When I do football, I don't want to be on the field getting squished. I'm going to be the coach."

Bud just decided he wants to go to watch the Super Bowl in person someday.

And I just want the Saints to win.

Plus, wouldn't it be great if the IMA's Turner painting were to travel to NOLA? Read all about that here.

All Good

Really quickly: I've been busy getting ready for the NVC workshop today, which went wonderfully for a whole variety of reasons. Which I will tell you later, probably on Monday because, after my being gone almost 11 whole hours, tomorrow is a family day.

Ph.D.--What, Me Worry?

Check out my friend American Modern discussing a recent article on the current state of and possible solutions for graduate education in this country.

And then read the NYTimes on adjuncting, the only kind of job Ph.D.s seem to get anymore. And now there will be more competition for those . . . but even the article can't seem to make it very attractive: "the pay for adjunct professors is usually low, and the work can be challenging."

And now tenure--not that any Ph.D.s I know are even on that track (excepting my MIL, who is a Ph.D.-holding tenured professor, but that happened well before my time)--is up for discussion as well! Which is probably a good thing . . .

White Friday

"Mama, there is something white in front of the oven."

You never want to hear that from your four year olds first thing in the morning. But this was worse: "Mommy, Mama wants you to come down to the kitchen NOW!"

The dishwasher had bubbled over, filling the floor with suds that had seeped, on our slanted floor, over to and under the oven. No wonder the cats never came to bed last night! They had slowly watched the kitchen fill with bubbles! We think they even added the water in their water dish to the fun, completely emptying it.

The floor is cleaner than it has ever been, particularly under the oven. Though, that Pollyanna-ish statement elides the immediate tension of cleaning it up and figuring out what went wrong. Mama managed the first by turning off the power, moving the oven, and mopping it all up. I discovered the second: I had accidently bought dish soap instead of dishwasher soap yesterday.

Wanna know the irony? The dishes didn't even get clean!

To add insult to injury, after dropping off the kids, while I was running to get dishwashing soap, I got a call from our house alarm company that a burglar alarm had been tripped. So, I headed home to meet the cops, who found nothing suspicious or unusual. I'm going to blame it on the cats, high on suds, who must have been up to something mischevious, again, and bumped the window in the process!

Hiding at My Feet

The kids are playing "hunt for the elusive black beasts of the Rainbow River woods."

Which translates into "chase the cats around the house." And this time they have noisy walkie-talkies. And something that beeps like a car alarm that is supposed to help them find the cats.

Except the kiddos didn't notice at all that Albus was crouched under the desk, between my feet, hiding from them in plain sight, as they stood on either side of me asking if I'd seen the cats.

Poor cats.

But at least they're getting better at it.

Because they used to just run up and down away from the kids, never finding good hiding spots. Which seems ridiculous, considering that their cats and can a). jump up high on bookcases and such (or the kitchen cabinets), b). run fast and c). hide in very small places, like behind the piano.

(And before any PETA people get upset, I never let the game go on long or past the cats' tolerance.)

Whoops!

I totally forgot that yesterday was Thursday and that I'm not posting on Thursdays right now.

Oh, well.

I didn't spend too much time at it.

And I didn't even realize what day of the week it was until last night!

Sending Love

. . . all the way down to Texas.

(and, for some pleasure, which you might need, a positive article in the NYTimes on the Houston dining scene!)

Hungry Household Security Threat Level Explained

It started last night, around bedtime, when Mama mentioned that we really should have a flag system to warn the kids if we were on the edge. See, the kids have yet to pay any attention to our moods so that they push buttons when perhaps older and wiser kids would stay well away (it might also, of course, come in handy for moms who have been separated all day and don't know the situation when they reunite at dinner!). And so Mama laughed and said there should be a red flag or yellow to hang outside our bedroom door, and we got to talking about the Homeland Security Threat Level color code system. And how it was extra dangerous in our house because there would always be two mommmies with different levels. Maybe we're the oft-mentioned "double trouble." There was lots of laughter! And so, I posted it.

Except this morning, I added a new level:

Catastrophic
There is certain risk of a complete explosion because Mommy is experiencing all of the Severe conditions below, plus she has run out of milk for her breakfast cereal and morning cup of tea!

Hungry Household Security Threat Levels

Severe

Severe risk of complete Mommy meltdown, with timeout for kids in their rooms and her locking herself in the bathroom, owing to the following conditions: Mommy is PMSing, dieting, planning a big project, taking care of sick kids who have been crying or fighting or clinging all day, without a babysitter, and thinking about kindergarten.

High

High risk of timeout for the kids because Mommy is working under two or more of the above conditions.

Elevated

Significant risk of timeout for one or more kids because Mommy has no idea about what to a). put in school lunches or b). cook for dinner.

Guarded

General risk of a "family meeting" because, though Mommy has kids playing happily and independently, with dinner in the crockpot, she is still working under one of the above stressful conditions.

Low

Low risk of any meltdown or disciplinary action because Mommy is home alone with kids at school.

If I Had 104 Million Dollars . . .

(hum along, now)

I still wouldn't buy the Giacometti!

Heaven, and How to Get There

No, not the afterlife.

The ideal school.

There is a great op-ed in the NYTimes today about what school should look like:

In order to design a curriculum that teaches what truly matters, educators should remember a basic precept of modern developmental science: developmental precursors don’t always resemble the skill to which they are leading. For example, saying the alphabet does not particularly help children learn to read. But having extended and complex conversations during toddlerhood does. Simply put, what children need to do in elementary school is not to cram for high school or college, but to develop ways of thinking and behaving that will lead to valuable knowledge and skills later on.

So what should children be able to do by age 12, or the time they leave elementary school? They should be able to read a chapter book, write a story and a compelling essay; know how to add, subtract, divide and multiply numbers; detect patterns in complex phenomena; use evidence to support an opinion; be part of a group of people who are not their family; and engage in an exchange of ideas in conversation. If all elementary school students mastered these abilities, they would be prepared to learn almost anything in high school and college.

While I don't think any proposed changes to educational law will affect this kind of paradigm shift in our current philosophies about education (and you should just read her utopian classroom--it's lovely and almost unimaginable in the US, except perhaps in homeschools and Waldorf), the article does give me ideas for what I should do with the kids in the time we're all together outside of school: converse, play, compute, count, write, read, construct, design, experiment, imagine, reason, question, test, observe, collaborate. What teachable moments those will be!

Here Comes the Tooth Fairy

The Tooth Fairy went to the kids' school today, despite the snow delay, and the kids were enchanted. I arrived as the program was ending, just in time to hear Sis pipe up, "I already brushed my teeth this morning!" and Bud second her with "we always brush our teeth." So proud. Even if it is only partially true--they do brush, defined as touching their toothbrushes to their mouths, twice a day--but some days involve more sucking and chewing than real brushing, especially if I'm not standing right there singing the ABC song twice and doing the brushing for them myself!

Afterwards, the kids insisted on introducing me to the Tooth Fairy, who was large now, they explained, so she could talk to them, but apparently was usually teeny-tiny like fairies are (they know that our Tooth Fairy will come through our fairy door, which is also how Santa got in--he is miniature elf, after all, because our chimney is blocked). She wore a sparkly purple gown ("Mom, did you see her sparkly dress?") and wings in the shape of a big molar ("It's tooth-wings, Mom!"). And she had distributed goody bags of toothbrushes and stickers and brushing charts to everybody. The kids can't wait to brush. And Sis has even instructed me that they "really should floss."

All good.

More Rx

We were back at the doctor's today, for the kiddos' check-ups following all that January illness.

And it ain't over yet. With almost a fever at 99.5F, Sis has ears that aren't clear and probably getting infected again, as are her tonsils. So she has another prescription. Bud has two medicines of his own, this time to treat seasonal allergies which just won't go away and are affecting his ears.

So, of course, we went to the store to fill them, coming home with bottles of various things, plus a Hi-Ho Cheerio game for Sis and a new Black Knight for Bud. And a magazine for me, though I don't think I'll get to read it. Icky-feeling kids are needy kids.

The biggest good news, which I shared with them over lunch, is that Gommie is coming! And that will make even borderline sick kids feel much better.

Not My Cuddle Buddy

There was one more thing that we learned playing knights today. Or, well, that I learned, from Bud, as I tried to give him a hug, mid-play. He told me, "Mom, knights are too busy for cuddles!"

In the Paper

Today, I was touched, inspired, tickled, angered, informed by . . .

• Dana Jennings's discussion of post-cancer moments
• a Motherlode and guest post on a recent development in the "Autism Wars"
• Wife/Mother/Worker/Spy on late-staying guests and hoarding
• Tissue rights, biomedical research, and the cells of Henrietta Lacks (plus the effects on her descendants--this one's for you, Goo)
• I can't do better than the title--"When Chocolate and Chakras Collide"
• A survivor's recollection of the past and vows for the future on the 65th anniversary of the liberation of Auschwitz

Living-Room Labyrinth

The kids wanted to create an obstacle course in the house, something we've done numerous times with pillows and masking tape (with lines for the start, Xs for hopping, zigzags for balancing, boxes for "wiggle dancing," and the like). But today, instead of the simple spiral that usually concludes our course, I created a masking-tape labyrinth on the carpet.

See, I have been reading The Way of the Labyrinth by Helen Curry, founder of the Labyrinth Project of Connecticut and president of the Labyrinth Society, something that has interested me since I walked the temporary labyrinth at church. In fact, I'm thinking of creating a labyrinth here somewhere--out of paint on our deck, or on the driveway, or with some kind of stone in the grass, who knows. It's not the easiest thing to create a nicely-rounded labyrinth freehand, but I've been trying, using the instructions in the book for drawing a Left-Handed, Three-Circuit Labyrinth (which are similar to the ones below, from Peaceful Endeavors, which has several kids' activities. Other good sites are the Labyrinth Society, which has animated instructions, and the Labyrinth Network's pages for kids). I hope to graduate to the seven-circuit ones soon.

So, today, I practiced in tape on the living room floor, creating a pretty lopsided version. The kids spent a lot of time running back and forth through it, which, while not meditative or reflective, is at least an experience. And they remembered the one at church too, which Sis reminded me was much bigger. Bud wanted it to be more challenging, confusing it with a maze with choices; labyrinths don't want you to get lost physically, so there's usually just one path. He eventually slowed down, though, and then danced through it.

Best of all, no one has ripped up the tape to do something else. So I think they like it. I'm hoping to walk it by myself, perhaps after bedtime.

Back to Glass

I'd already gotten rid of almost all of my plastic storage containers, switching it all out for glass. But now we're going the next step: the kids are eating off not melamine or plastic but glass plates just like the grown-ups. Sure, some of the plates will inevitably get broken, but they can be replaced. And the kids like having big-kid plates. And I like that we're getting more plastic out of the kitchen.

We're Knights of the Round Table

"A knight of the Table Round should be invincible,

Suceed where a less fantastic man would fail.

Climb a wall no one else can climb,

Cleave a dragon in record time,

Swim a moat in a coat of heavy iron mail.

No matter the pain, he ought to be unwinceable,

Impossible deeds should be his daily fare.

But where in the world

Is there in the world

A man so *extraordinaire*?"

--"C'est Moi," Camelot

It's amazing what brown paper bags, cardboard, cardboard tubes, and masking tape can do! I've transformed Bud and Sis into Sir Bud and Lady Sis, complete with shields, pikes, and helmets. The shields are cut from the sides of a box, with a construction paper strap for wearing on their forearms. The pikes are long wrapping paper tubes. The helmets are the piece d'resistance: brown grocery bags with a circle cut into them for a visor and holes cut for the shoulders; Bud's has decorative horns on top and Sis colored and collaged hers with pink marker and paper. And they've been running around all morning dressed in their armor, fighting the evil knights. We even had sparring practice in the castle keep before going on the attack. There's been dancing, too, to the soundtrack of Camelot, but not much feasting (except on yesterday's snickerdoodles)

A few things they've learned:

• paper and cardboard tear really easily but can almost just as easily be repaired;
• do not walk between two people fighting with swords;
• weapons should be stored in the armory, not in the middle of the floor.

Occasionally, instead of throwing the evil knights in our dungeon, we invite them to join us. But, in truth, it's just hard to inject nonviolent communication (NVC) or peace resolution into these games and still keep them fun, especially for 4 year olds. So, I don't try too hard. Besides, I read once somewhere that these black-and-white games of good-and-evil are an important developmental tool . . . and perhaps will one day lead to the other.

"I've never lost

In battle or game;

I'm simply the best by far.

When swords are crossed

'Tis always the same:

One blow and au revoir!

C'est moi! C'est moi! So adm'rably fit!

A French Prometheus unbound.

And here I stand, with valour untold,

Exeption'ly brave, amazingly bold,

To serve at the Table Round!"

Six More Weeks . . .

That's right, more winter. Which makes sense, because we are expecting snow today. Sis was disappointed in the prognostication, but Mama and I welcome a bit more snow. Bud vacillated. We watched it live both on the computer and scanning a few channels on tv, particularly because they had homework to get the groundhog's prediction. And for the first time, Mama and I, who have watched for years on tv, saw the groundhog talk to the man in the hat who then read the scroll--you could actually see Phil searching the stump for his shadow. And it was there, apparently (despite it being cloudy in Punxsutawney, PA). We're going to try to find out the predictions of the other groundhogs, whom we've read about in our great groundhog book, Groundhog Weather School by Joan Holub (one of many books we have on groundhogs, the prettiest being Lynne Cherry's How Groundhog's Garden Grew)--Staten Island Stan, Sir Walter Wally, and the nutria Pierre C. Shadeaux down in Louisiana! Happy Groundhog Day!

Howdy

At lunch yesterday, we started talking about all the different ways people say hello, starting with "hola" as we were at the "chip restaurant." It wasn't just the words--in all the languages Mama and I could muster (sadly ignorant of most in Africa, Eastern Europe, and parts of Asia)--but also the gestures, such as the wai, or the hands-together bow, in Thailand, the double or triple cheek kiss in France and other parts of Europe, the bow in Japan, the handshake in the U.S. and other places. They both liked the cheek kiss best and spent much of lunch saying "bonjour" and "ciao, bella!" Look up your favorite phrases (though not the gestures) here.

Weird Science

It's been science time over here at the Hungry house, er, lab this week, ever since the kiddos did magnet experiments at school last week. And so, we've popped popcorn to explore the five senses, melted ice in a skillet to boiling to watch it go from solid to liquid to gas, and played with magnets in water, beans, flour, and snow. Tomorrow is oil-and-water day. And we'll do the seed-in-the-cup and caterpillar-to-butterfly activities later in the spring. But that about taps out my ideas for science experiments--it never was my favorite subject (it might be time to watch "Sid the Science Kid" again)--so I need to go find some simple "happy hands at home" ideas, using regular household or easy-to-acquire items. So, Gentle Reader, what are your favorite at-home science experiments?

As the Toe Goes

Some seven years ago, I broke the tip of the bone on the third toe of my right foot by dropping something like a magnum of soy sauce on my bare foot.

And it hasn't bothered me since. Until now. When I walk, rolling the tip of my foot to step, it hurts. Not severe, just noticeable. So I asked today at exercise class what the physical therapists made of this.

Arthritis.

(Though they made sure to remind me that they weren't doctors).

So, they said if it doesn't improve in a few days or go away in two weeks, to check in with my doctor.

Who would've thunk it, so many years later.

So, I'm wearing my shoes because it's less ouchy with shoes on.

Question of the Day

From Bud, as we were discussing what vegans eat and don't eat, specifically no honey:

"Mommy, why don't vegans eat anything delicious?"