parts

One of the earliest things with which parents have to grapple is what they are going to do about body parts.

Some people go with the nickname route - your pee pee or your hooha.

Some go with the pretending we don't have to talk about it route.

Some go with the ultra-scientific - urethra, etc.

I wouldn't venture to say any is particularly right or wrong (I mean, I obviously have my preferences), but....

I grew up knowing that what my little brother's particular genitalia are - I knew penis, scrotum and testicles. I didn't go around announcing them, but I knew what they were.

I think my mother's biggest motivation behind that was that there weren't really non-crude alternatives. She wasn't going to pretend like my little brothers didn't have testicles, but she certainly wasn't going to call them

*gasp* *whisper* balls.

I had trouble just typing that. Eww. Gross. Tacky. Not-raised-right...

But, anyway....

Interestingly, we didn't use the word vagina in everyday use. I knew it. I knew that's that what I had, but my mother didn't say that. I'm not going to tell you what she said, because it is extremely silly and she would be embarrassed. But it was the nickname type route.

[I had friends who made it to seventh grade life science and the forbidden Chapter 23 not actually knowing that their vaginas were called that. I wasn't one of those, but again, we didn't say it.]

When Paul was growing up someone told him that Babies are in their mother's stomachs. He really worried about that, so when I was pregnant with Eason and my precocious little 2 year old asked where exactly that baby was growing, we explained that people have different organs in their bodies - livers, spleens, stomachs, and that women have uteri (right? not uteruses?) and that it is this really cool organ in which babies can grow.

So, we've told Eas that his is a penis and Ada Brooks that hers is a vagina (which she, before her second birthday, not-so-attractively shortened to gina. Pronounced with a long i. I don't know how I feel about that, but I don't think there's any going back now).

Why have we told them that? Because they ask. Children say "What's zat?" pretty much before they say anything else. And you have to say something.

Tangential to what to call body parts, one must adopt a certain attitude toward them. I mean - some will say that a vagina is just another part - like an arm. But that's bull butter. When my little girl's best guy friend pats her on the arm, that will be a bit different than if he reaches over and pats her lady parts.

So, you want the kids to have an appropriate level of privacy without having fear or any sort of shame.

It's a private part. But it's not a gross part or something weird or odd or anything.

It's a hard, delicate balance. Sounds easy enough, but it's really not.

So, last night, I went back to the kids rooms to monitor the changing into pajamas. Eason had gotten down to his underwear. And when I walked in, he had his hands down his underwear studying something down there really intensely.

I said, "Hey Eas - get your hands out of your pants."

[Which is my standard response to little boy fooling with private parts moments. Which is a habit that begins when they are still in their diapers, hanging out in their cribs, unable to talk.... a habit which ends when they are again unable to talk... or what we like to call 'dead.']

But, since he wasn't just fooling with parts, but actually studying them, I decided that I should probably make sure nothing was wrong and so I then ventured to ask, "Everything okay down there?"

"Yes, Mama, I was just looking at that bumpy thing."

"What bumpy thing?" (Yes, I did worry for a moment there might be some growth or something.- wouldn't you?)

Eas proceeded to show me the bumpy thing. Which was his scrotum.

He said, "What is that anyway?"

I said, "That's your scrotum."

"What's a scrotum?"

And at this point, I have a responsibility to decide how far I'm going with this. And I was tired. And the Rebels were about to kick off.

So I said,
"A body part that boys have that girls don't."

Eason turned to his sister and said, "Ha! I have a scrotum."

And my daughter, who shows a remarkable amount of feminist pride, betrayed the universal penis envy that women have.

(Yes, I'm completely kidding about that second part. Absolutely completely.)

She said, hand on hip, "He may have a 'scrotum,' but girls have lots of things boys don't have.... like a uterus. Yeah- and that's how we can have babies- so yeah."

So...before you tell your children the scientific names of things....

just know...

that one day...

they may fight about which is cooler - having a scrotum or a uterus.
(Of course we all know which is cooler, but don't try to convince Eas....)

Gin with a Straw and Taco Bell.

I've had an awful day. No one has died, no one is really terribly ill, and we are able to eat and have a roof over our heads.

I like to write about what we believe. I like to write about what we hope. I like to write about that in which we have faith.

But, a lot of the time, life just happens. And it doesn't happen according to what I've so perfectly planned and about which I've so brilliantly opined.

Sometimes, at three oclock, I text my husband and say, "Sandwiches for the kids? Taco Bell for us?" and he says, "Absolutely that's the right thing to do." And then, at five oclock, I pour myself a gin and tonic. And then at 5:03, I make it a double and add a straw.

Why? Well, because my life, like most people's lives, is sometimes not very fun. Sometimes, one child is teething, one is unable to burn all of his energy in obedient ways and consequently is literally alternating between standing on the dining room table and serious bouts of discipline, and the third, well, she's upset at herself because her S's and her 5's are looking remarkably the same and that gets on her nerves.....

And then my husband is anxious about and frustrated at inefficient beaurocracy, professors who have an axe to grind, and the unreliability of teenagers. And sometimes that, shockingly, overflows into our home life.

Sometimes all of this happens on the same day that the dryer inexplicably stops working, I realize I've forgotten a pretty big responsibility, one of our cars is in the shop, and the dogs have found yet another route of escape from the back yard.

And on those days, all of the belief and the faith and the hope and the wonderful aspirations go flying out the door; they are replaced by comfort food from a chain food store and New Amsterdam gin to take off the edge. But they aren't really replaced... or shouldn't be. The faith and hope and belief cannot stand alone, and so they are propped up by the non-homemade bean burritos and the tonic/lime/juniper concoction.

[Is it weird that our favorite homemade supper is bean burritos and our go-to fast food supper is bean burritos? you'd think, when rarely eating out, we'd order something I don't make at home, but no, I make bean burritos with salsa, onions, beans and cheese....and so does Taco Bell....]

And that's okay.

Well, maybe it's not okay. It's certainly not ideal. But, it's life. And reacting that way is better than reacting with a nervous breakdown or a silent, emotional withdrawal.

It is better to laugh and admit life stinks sometimes - too many times - than it is to pretend it is always perfect and hate your spouse/children/self or God when it doesn't turn out so perfectly.

God is good, we are fallen, and He has provided many remedies - prayer, fermentation and Taco Bell being the three relevant tonight.

So, next time you have a terrible day:

1) Know that we all do.
2) Pray. No seriously. Take a moment, sit down, and confess your sins, and obey that wonderful verse that commands that we be anxious for nothing, but in everything, by prayer and supplication, we make our requests made known to God.
3) Pour yourself a glass of wine. If that's not for you, a nice hot cup of tea, or a cold glass of the iced stuff with mint. Or a perfectly ice-cold canned coke poured over ice. Whatever it is, do it, because why? God promises that the peace of God, which surpasses our understanding, will surround our hearts and minds in Christ Jesus. And he gives us many such ways to get to that peace.

If we are truly seeking peace, not avoidance or other forms of false-peace, then God will be faithful to use all sorts of vehicles for that peace.

Scripture, friends, backrubs, taco bell, and gin.

joy of cooking

This is not a post about my own joy in the art/chore of cookery, but about the actual book titled Joy of Cooking.

[Do 'titled' and 'entitled' mean the same thing like 'flammable' and 'inflammable' mean? And how very, very annoying.]

Anyway, my dear friend gave me a copy of Joy of Cooking's 75th anniversary edition for my 25th birthday just over a year ago. She wrote in it:

"In my opinion, this cookbook is far superior to any other. I could not live without it. I hope that you enjoy it as much as I do."

[Another side note: Write in books that you give to people. Please, please, please! It will mean so much to them. And when people give you books that have not been written in, if they are close enough, grab a pen and ask them to at least date it and sign their name. If they aren't, write in it yourself "Given to me for Christmas by Uncle Andrew, 2010" or something. Seriously - My kids open every book to the front page to see if they can find who gave it to them. And it is so darling to find notes from grandparents, godparents and special friends. Eason's dear godmother is a bookgiver like I am and she always writes darling notes in them. The kids say, "Yep, this one is from Mellen again" - and so she is always present in their reading mind. And, my dearest friend who gave me Joy of Cooking is always present in my mind when reading it. Also, I use the card that came with it as a bookmark, which helps as well!]

Anyway, she was absolutely correct. I cannot live without it. There are other cookbooks that I love to use and by which much of my culinary taste has been informed- Come On In, Square Table being the two at the top of that list. And then there are other cookbook writers - Nigella Lawson and Robert Capon - who I, quite literally, keep by the bedside. But Joy of Cooking has a recipe for everything. Name something. Look it up. I'll give you a nickel for everything you can come up with that it doesn't have. And you will not be rich.

It does not have the humor or prosaic ability that books like Lawson and Capon write, nor does it have such a high ratio of exciting/yummy/southern greats like Come On In and Square Table (But it's not a Mississippi cookbook, so one cannot really hold that against it), but it is huge. It is a tome if ever there was one. And it is correct. And it is normal. And it does have a bit of wit flowing through it.

Favorite witticism so far is that first of all, there is an actual recipe entry for Tequila Shots, and, second of all, it ends with this sentence:
Repeat the process as often as good sense allows.

Love that. Subtle, but it's there.

Also, there is, what I've come to call, the Joy of Cooking method for writing recipes. The most common method of writing recipes is to list the ingredients:

1/2 ounce tequila
Salt
Lime wedge

And then to write the method:

Pour tequila into a shot glass. Turn one hand sideways as if to shake hands and form into a loose fist, then lick the portion between your thumb and the knuckle of the forefinger. Quickly sprinkle with salt. Drink the tequila in one swallow, then immediately lick the salt off your hand and suck the juice from the lime wedge.

BUT... JOY OF COOKING IS BRILLIANT.

It writes recipes as follows - putting the ingredients in bold and on their own lines so that you can still scan to see what you need, but the ingredients are in context.

Pour into a shot glass

• 1/2 ounce tequila

Turn one hand sideways as if to shake hands and form into a loose fist, then lick the portion between your thumb and the knuckle of the forefinger. Quickly sprinkle with:

• Salt

Drink the tequila in one swallow, then immediately lick the salt off your hand and suck the juice from:

• A lime wedge

Repeat the process as often as good sense allows.

This is just a superior method. It is just great.

Anyway, I've tried a lot of recipes out of Joy Of Cooking - I think there must be thousands, so I haven't quite gotten through it yet. =) And won't, because some of them are completely unappealing to me.

But, I thought I'd flip through and tell you a few of my favorites:

So buy the book - and make (in addition to as many tequila shots as are prudent) the following:

1. Spiced Hot Cocoa, page 36, I left out the ginger
2. Old fashioned lemonade, page 40
3. Champagne Cocktail II, page 53
4. Mulled Wine, page 67, I halfed it.
   
5. Quick Cheese Straws, page 91
6. Tuna-Vegetable Casserole, page 97
7. Pork Shoulder with Mustard and Rosemary Sauce, page 99
   
8. Cheese Quiche, page 109, I add various items - it's fun.
9. Becker Coleslaw
10. Creamy Coleslaw
11. Sauteed Cabbage, page 263, left off sour cream and let wilt longer in saute pan.
12. Fettuccine Alfredo, page 327, This recipe is perfect and I'll never try another. Sometimes I add a grating of nutmeg.
13. Peach Pie, page 679
14. Becker Chicken Marinade, page 585 - best marinade ever

I know I'm forgetting things, but these are the ones that I can recall from memory they are so good. I know there are lots, lots others.

Seriously. Buy the book. Put it on christmas lists. Read through it. It will take me years to try everything I want to try, but I'm working on it.

(Don't make the Baked Macaroni and Cheese for a Crowd.... blahblahblah)

Are you a Joy fan? What's your favorite?

Food

Friday: Out on a double date to Aladdin - the Mediterranean restaurant around the corner. So good. Shrimp Plate. Only thing I ever get. I will not branch out! I won't! It's too good! You cannot make me!

Saturday: Our dear friend Rachel is bopping home from her big city job in New York to visit for the weekend. Consequently, we're having a feast. If I tell you, you'll just be jealous... but it involves shrimp, soup, pasta, steak, fruit, salad, cheese, cream, merengue. I'm going to be in the kitchen all day without kids, so I'm hoping to take pictures and do a blog post entitled The Dinner Party.

[What percentage of the blog posts that I say I'm going to do do I actually do? 12%? That's generous, I know.]

Sunday: Leftovers for lunch; (Hopefully) dove for supper - Paul is dove hunting today - who'd a thunk? Anyway, a few folks are going to come, bring their doves, and we'll put them on the grill with various sides - corn, salad, taters, etc.

Monday: Labor Day! Lunch with my mom; Supper at Daddy's cabin - I'm going to make ribs! Yay!

Tuesday: Sloppy Joes, per Ada Brooks's request. It's the kids' favorite and Paul and I kind of like it too.

Wednesday: Church!

Thursday: Red Beans and Rice!

On Marriage: A Letter to the Kids

Dearest Darling Children of Mine:

I am really not in such a position to be going on and on about marriage - having completed a measly 4.4 or so years of it. But, it is very much a part of our everyday lives, and if we only talk about feeding and educating, we have left out a major part of life around here: loving.

So, please go ahead and forgive this particular instance of naiveté inherit to a lack of experience in any area. And know that I reserve the right to edit the following advice after another 4.4 or 44.4.
Although, I don't think I will.

Also, before I go on, know that there are certainly non-traditional families- single folks, single parents, etc. - who are living lives that are amazingly magnetic and often for all the right reasons. These people exist (Jesus, Apostle Paul, John Stott, various of your godparents), and we should be very, very careful not to make traditional families an idol. It will result in us marginalizing and disrespecting the non-traditional.

But...the fact of the matter is that the norm is for people to grow up, get married, and have babies. You, children of mine, will probably do this. Maybe not, and that will be a-okay, but...probably.

Family life does not work unless the marriage relationship is central. Look around you. Find a family that you want to emulate.

Now look closely.

That family has, as its central being, the theme of its familial narrative, a marriage. A marriage that supersedes all else. Supersedes work, friends and even children. Especially children.

The marriage is first.

This is kind of easy in the beginning. You are in love. And naked a lot, which helps your priorities stay in order.

And then you have jobs or babies or quarter-life crises (or many times all three) and your lines aren't quite so clear anymore.

I don't mean to depress you, darlings, but, well, it happens.

As you (probably) head into this world of marriage one day, your father and I have two pieces of advice for you. Take them with the giant grains of salt you should take all our advice, but, take them still.

1) Marry someone you like.
2) Grow up and behave.

From whence do these two pieces of advice come? Well, what is your end in marriage? Your end in everything is glorifying our Creator and enjoying all with which he blesses us, right? Remember that catechism?

These two pieces of advice come from that - how can we best glorify God and enjoy his blessings in the particular institution of marriage?

Oh, darling children, marry someone you like. It seems so simple, and yet...

This means someone with whom you like to be. Someone who, when fully clothed, engages with you in something enjoyable. It could be that you love just being quiet together, or it could be that you make each other laugh. For Daddy and me, it is a whole host of things - we both love words, debates, laughter, fermented things, books, friends, you little people.
He's my very favorite date - whether that be out to dinner or to my couch. And, if I may be so presumptuous, I am his favorite. Absolute favorite.


Things that do not mean the same as like, but are often fuddled and muddled around with like and result in folks marrying folks they don't actually like:

Sometimes Robby marries Susie because Susie learned from Mama that Robby won't buy the cow if he can get the milk for free. And Susie actually put this into practice. Robby doesn't marry Susie because he likes her - he marries her because he wants her and marriage is a means to that end.

And Susie marries Robby, because, well, Mama made her feel like she's a cow up for purchase.

But seriously, Susie marries Robby because she wants to plan a wedding and he'll look good in a tux; because all her friends are getting married and she has a fear of being an old maid; because her biological clock is ticking; because she doesn't really want to get a real job; because, maybe, Robby won't give her the milk for free either.

Robby could also marry Susie because his mom won't leave him alone about getting married and Susie looks like the path of least resistance; because she did sleep with him and now he feels obligated; because Susie won't shut the hell up about Sally's wedding and Robby would sincerely rather marry her than listen to her one more minute; because she looks like she'd probably make a good mom.

Ad infinitum.

But, the point is, Susie and Robby don't always marry because they like each other.
 
Now.... Please don't get me wrong. This is not a 'soul mate' argument or a 'true love' argument -

You know me well enough to know I'd bull butter all of that. All I'm saying is this: You, dearhearts, are each going to spend the rest of your life with the same individual person, we pray. Wouldn't you rather not be bored...or much worse?

Trust me - if you like the person you marry, when you set about actually loving them, it will make life a lot easier.

Which brings us to point number 2.

Grow up and Behave!

This is the business of loving.

(Please do not have First Corinthians 13 read at your wedding. I mean, perhaps by the time you wed, I'll be ready to hear it again, but I'm not holding my breath.)

But, whether you have it read or not, think about the following applications:

Love is patient: When she tries on the 11th pair of shoes, that's when love is patient. When he asks for the 17th time this week where his own child's pajamas are kept, that's when love is patient.

Love is kind: When he has someone at work breathing down his throat, love rubs shoulders and asks if there is anything she can do. When she burns the bread for the 7th time this week, love laughs in kindness. (And yes, ask your father or godfather Jacob - I used to have a serious bread burning problem.)

Love does not envy: When he gets a day off from work and she feels as though she never does, love does not envy. When he feels she doesn't have to get up and go to a 'real job' each day, love does not envy.

Love does not boast: Flip this one around - boast of your spouse. Try it. Brag on one another. It'll feel so good.

Love is not rude: When he comes in late after guys night out and she's asleep, love is quiet. When he comes in late after guys night out and she's asleep, she's left a lamp on. Also, she doesn't text him all night, thus ruining his guys night out.

Love is not self-seeking: When she wants to go to mexican food, and he wants chinese, well, good luck with that one.

Love always trusts: Just think on that.

Love does not keep a record of wrongs! We could save a million marriages this year if we would all obey this one command. Seriously - no record of wrongs. Seriously. Wipe the slate clean. Every morning.

It sounds impossible, because, well, it's really, really hard. But it's what we're commanded to do. And, it's the only thing that really, truly works. So do it.
And remember, doing all these impossible things will be easier if, say, the person you are required to love is someone you actually like.

Eat together.
Sleep together (both actively and passively).
Visit.
Banish the children.
Read to the children together.
Buy presents for one another.
Hold hands.
Make out.
Toast one another.
Rub one another's feet. And backs.
Hang out with old, married folks.
Write to one another.
Surround yourself with people who you both like.
Celebrate anniversaries with a vengeance.
Go to weddings together.
Dance.

Worship together.

And know that, while you three are the three most precious things in our life, Daddy and I love each other first. Always.

Our love,
Mama

Afternoon: A One Act Play

Life
Mama is at kitchen stove adding a myriad of ingredients to a steaming pot. After being in rest time for about an hour, Daughter appears from stage right.

Mama: How ya doing?
Daughter: Great. I finished Peter Pan.
Mama: Already?
Daughter: Look how big the print is.
Mama: Good point. Was it good?
Daughter: Great.
Mama: Was it like the movie?
Daughter: Not at all.
Mama: I've never read it.
Daughter: Are you serious?
Mama: As a heart attack. Will you run get Baby? - I hear him fussing.
Daughter: Sure.

Daughter exits stage right - returns with Baby a minute later. Baby sits down in highchair and indicates it's snack time. Mama produces grapes. (Which she does not cut up, because, miracles of miracles, she finally has a child who has proven himself capable of biting into the grape before he sucks it down his windpipe and needs the heimlich).

Daughter: Mama - what do snow leopards eat?
Mama: Meat of some sort, I would assume, but you are welcome to google it.

Daughter moves to computer, thrilled at computer use permission.

Daughter: What's the best thing to google? just 'snow leopards eat' ?
Mama: Just google snow leopards and one of the first entries will be the wikipedia article, go to that, scroll down and you should see a section on diet.

Daughter: Ah, yes, they are carnivores and hunters but also, what does o-p-p-o-r-t-u-n-i-s-t-i-c spell?
Mama: sound it out.
Daughter: Please.
Mama: Opportunistic
Daughter: What does that mean?
Mama: What does it sound like?
Daughter: Opportunity
Mama: Right - it means they take advantages of opportunities in their food gathering - so, sometimes they go looking for food, but lots of times they just eat whatever stumbles into their path.

Daughter disappears, Mama gets baby down and tries to coax him into taking a few steps. He does. She does a ridiculous "I'm so proud of you" dance and then he starts crawling again. She gets over it, gets up and continues working at stove.

Daughter reappears.

Daughter: How much do live pigs from a farm cost?
Mama: I have no idea. Why?
Daughter: I am trying to plan the pets that the people in the club are going to own when we grow up.
Mama: What club?
Daughter: You know, Mama - Me, Eas, Lily, Junie, Bonnie I guess, Walker, Will, Caroline when she gets a little older, Bella, Bonner, Mia, you know Mama - all the kids at church. Gosh, that sure is a lot of kids.
Mama: Yes it is. Will you grab me the celery, por favor?
Daughter: Sure. Anyway, I'm trying to plan our pets for when we get older and I'm trying to figure out how much it's going to cost. This will be after I'm 18, so I'll be able to use my credit card, but I still want to know.
Mama: Well, you know using a credit card doesn't mean you don't have to pay for it, right?
Daughter: I know, but you don't have to pay for it right then.
Mama: Right, but you need to still have the money in the bank.
Daughter: Right. Anyway.
Mama: Back to the pets.

Daughter: So, I want either a snow leopard or a cheetah. But I'm probably going to need a pig either way.
Mama: Why?
Daughter: Well, I'm going to put the pig in the back of a truck and lure the cheetah/snowleopard depending into the back of the truck and then shut the truck up. So, first I need to figure out how I'm going to keep the pig in the truck and also not have him penned in so the leopard thinks it can get it.
Mama: Rope to a hook?
Daughter: Great idea - I'm sure it was going to be my next idea.
Mama: I'm sure too.
Daughter: So now I need to know how much the pig is going to cost.
Mama: Right - I'd estimate a hundred dollars, but I have no idea.
Daughter: Okay we'll go with a hundred.

Daughter grabs abacus from drawer and hops onto barstool sitting directly across from Mama at stove. She starts writing on a piece of paper.

Daughter: How do you spell hamburger?
Mama: How do you think?
Daughter: H-A-M-E-B-U-R-G-E-R
Mama: Close. No E. Well, there's an E at the end, but no E after M.
Daughter: Okay. And is chicken C-H-I-C-K-I-N?
Mama: E-N
Daughter: Okay, I'm estimating I need 16 Pigs, 30 Chickens and 70 Hamburgers to feed the cheetah.
Mama: Okay

(A small smile passes across Mama's face as she decides not to pursue the "where in hades did those estimates come from, daughter?" line of questioning)

Daughter: So, how much are chickens?
Mama: For ease, go with 5 dollars a piece.
Daughter: Okay, so If I do 30, five times, (using abacus)that's 15 tens, so that's 150 dollars
Mama: Good job. Right.
Daughter: Think I can get 70 hamburgers for 70 dollars?
Mama: Probably.
Daughter: And the pigs. That's 1600 dollars, right?
Mama: Right. So what is that all together?

Son enters from stage right, crying, clutching blanket, clearly having just awoken.

Mama: Son - what ya need? Some love? A granola bar?
Son: Yes, bofe.

Mama: Hey Daughter, it's awesome that you are figuring out the costs of feeding a cheetah, but you know you cannot have a cheetah as a pet. Such a fun thing to pretend - but you cannot keep animals like that as pets in America. It's illegal.
Daughter: Why not?
Mama: Well, a lot of reasons. But think about it like this. If our neighbor had a cheetah, what would we worry about it eating?
Daughter: The dog?
Mama: What else?
Daughter: I don't know.
Mama: Baby, probably.
Daughter, indignant: Well, MY cheetah would never eat Baby. My cheetah would be well fed with the pigs and wouldn't need to eat Baby.
Mama: Right, but you could see how people probably don't want their neighbors having animals that might eat babies, right?
Daughter: I guess.

Daughter, a few minutes later: Could I have one in Afghanistan?
Mama: Well, I don't know. Why?
Daughter: Well, that's where they mainly live - snow leopards - according to wikipedia, so could I have one there?
Mama: Well, maybe. I don't know. But Afghanistan is really far away. And it costs a lot to fly there.
Daughter: Like how much?
Mama: I don't know, but say 2000.

Daughter, adds 2000 to abacus.

Mama: But that will only get one person from here over there once. What about Christmas? Do you want to come home for Christmas?
Daughter: Yes.
Mama: And if you have a family at the time of this leopard ownership, that'll be 2000 for each person.
Daughter: So, maybe 6000 dollars.
Mama: Okay. But do you want to come home and see us for your birthday?
Daughter: Well, yes.

Daughter, a few minutes later: Mama do you know anything about vegetarian animals?
Mama: A little, I guess, why?
Daughter: Well, do you know of any animals that don't eat meat?
Mama: Cows, Sheep
Daughter: Any weird, fun animals?
Mama: I'll think on it.

Mama: You could stay in America and have the leopard if you owned a zoo.
Daughter: How much do zoos cost?
Mama: Millions.
Daughter: That stinks. I saw on television once there were these people building their own zoo. They said it was illegal though. But then they changed the name to a rescue home for animals and they could do it.
Mama: Really? What kind of animals did they have?
Daughter: All kinds - they would come when they were hurt and then leave again when they were better - dogs, cats, but even more fun animals - there was even a black panther.
Mama: Awesome!
Daughter: How much is a roll of chicken wire?
Mama: Daughter, don't you want a granola bar and we can all watch an episode of Mary Tyler Moore?

Son and Daughter begin cleaning up preparing for Mary Tyler Moore. Baby becomes very pleased with himself because he has taken a few more steps, and Mama stifles cuss words because she realizes that she has let her soup stick to the pot while in the midst of the biggest feasibility study in her daughter's life so far.

Washing their brains?

It lately probably seems like all we do is eat, but...

This is our second 'real' week of homeschooling. We quit with the hippy-type (read: wonderfully perfect in every way) summer time homeschooling which involved me requiring Ada Brooks to read most days and quizzing her on her fractions while we measured out teaspoons of things for supper recipes. (See the all-we-do-is-eat thing above....)

And when I say 'requiring', I more mean occasionally ensuring that she is still gobbling up books like we're all about to enter the world of Farenheit 451.


But, last Monday, Paul started school, and so did we, in earnest -

So, how do we do school?

Well, we get up in the morning and turn on PBS kids and go about our day.

Gotcha! =)

No, really, we get up, and most days we have Family Worship, Memory Work, Handwriting, History, Reading Aloud, Spelling, Creative Writing, Math, Grammar, Listening, Free Reading, Free Art, Piano - All interspersed with breakfast, lunch, play time and rest time.
And on Fridays Ada Brooks does science with her daddy - so you scientists, don't worry!

[And once Jackson Classical starts in a couple of weeks, she'll also be getting Spanish, Latin, Ballet, Formal Art, Kindermusik, Gymnastics, Tap (which she and I both despise, but it builds character?), Science.
As well as doing Spelling, Grammar, Handwriting, Creative Writing, History - same curricula as at home, but in a classroom setting.

(I LOVE to pluralize curriculum... curricula just sounds so awesome!) ]

Oh! and we do laundry. Which consistently ruins my day.

Perfect day + Laundry = Mediocre Day
Mediocre day + Laundry = A double gin on the rocks

So, I'd like to post about those various subjects and how we're doing them.

We'll start with Memory Work - because, well, it's the FAVORITE.

It's everyone's favorite - which means that I probably need to move it to later in the day, so it would be better used as motivation.

But for now, first up, Memory Work. We are (mostly) classically educating, which means we subscribe (mostly) to the idea of the Trivium - which is basically that at different stages in life kids are bent in certain ways. When they are young, they absorb discreet facts without argument and with remarkable talent. They are sponges, so, we give them lots of good stuff to soak up.

[Someone rewrite that sentence to avoiding ending it in a preposition, please! I cannot - I'm too tired.]

Middle School age - they start asking questions - dialectical type learning. High School Age - they are ready to learn to present themselves to the world, so we teach them on a rhetorical level. They interact with literature in a critical way - they write and speak about what they know.

That is a gross oversimplification, but I don't have time right now! If you want to know more, email me. Or read this here. And then email me. And I've written about it on this very blog before.

Anyway, so we do Memory Work, because we believe that 1) they like to memorize at this young age, 2) they are good at it, and 3) if they memorize it now, they'll likely never forget it.


I shot an arrow into the air,
It fell to earth, I knew not where;
For, so swiftly it flew, the sight
Could not follow it in its flight.

I breathed a song into the air,
It fell to earth, I knew not where;
For who has sight so keen and strong,
That it can follow the flight of song?

Long, long afterward, in an oak
I found the arrow, still unbroke;
And the song, from beginning to end,
I found again in the heart of a friend.

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow -
Memorized by me in 2nd or 3rd grade. And will go to my grave.

Although, 'unbroke' always got on my nerves. Unbroken, Henry! The past participle of break is broken!!!!!

But, I've always had trouble with poetic license as it relates to grammar rules - not punctuation, just grammar. e. e. cummings just made me proud with his rebellion in punctuation -
Hate poetry?
Read anyone lived in a pretty how town. You'll change your mind. Or should.

But the grammar rebellion, well, that's just, well, I need a glass of wine to make it through "I found the arrow still unbroke"

A contemporary example would be, Steve Earle, one of my favorite singer/songwriters has an amazing song called "Me and the Eagle"
Go and listen to it here. Please. It will uplift your day.

But, he says "Me and the eagle are of the same mind"
I mean...come on.... THE EAGLE AND I, STEVE... THE EAGLE AND I!!!!!!!!!! But, it would sound awkward, just like unbroken wouldn't rhyme with oak...

Damn!

I mean... I believe that poets should have that right... I just don't like it. There are a lot of things I believe that I don't like. Which messes with one's head - let me just tell you. I could write a book about how what we like influences what we believe way, way too much.
ANYWAY...

Memory Work.

You should come and watch it, because, well, it's pretty darn cute. And sort of amazing.

Ada Brooks's list of current memory work:

• Catechism (westminster children's)

• Presidents (she knows them all, but has to still practice, because she took a break for the summer, and forgot everything from Woodrow Wilson until John F Kennedy)

• States and Capitols (She's up to about 25)

• Books of the Bible (OT down, we're just reviewing, NT is not as steady)

• Psalm 1

• Psalm 23

• Gloria Patri

• Doxology

• History Timeline (Quick - which came first? Crimean War or American Civil War? Also, add to that Queen Victoria's Great Exhibition.... yeah - I can't do it either, but Ada Bee is working on it, which is fairly amazing to watch)

Eason's Memory Work (cutest thing, well, since cute as word existed):

• Catechism (Westminster Children's - and he keeps up with his sister just fine, he'd like you to know)

• Books of the Bible (He's got the Pentateuch down... =) )

• Psalm 1:1

• Presidents (He's through John Quincy Adams, which, incidentally is how far I can go...)

• Gloria Patri

• Doxology

• Jewish Patriarchs (Abraham, Isaac, Jacob, and the 12 tribes - you want cute? listen to Eason say "Naphtali") - he's got these down like it's nobody's business. It helps that one of his favorite songs has them in it.

No, I'm not really requiring my three year old to memorize things, but he gets so upset if he's left out of Memory Work - So very upset - so we started making up things for him to learn (which is why the Jewish Patriarchs came in- who really needs to know those?) -

And so no, I don't spend a lot of time saying "Come on Eason, who comes after James Madison?" Actually, I spend no time on that.
We are, however, working on the catechism with him - I've become a believer in catechizing your children. I just wish there existed catechisms about other subjects - history, english, math and science, and not just our faith. The faith thing is huge, but the way catechism works - in question and answer format - enables such great memory, and it would be great if when I said,

"How does one make possessive a singular noun ending in s?"
Ada and Eason parroted back,
"By adding an apostrophe s."

In the same way that when I say
"Have you a soul as well as a body?"
Eason says, without flinching,
"Yes; I have a soul that can never die."

What comfort to him later in life!


There are two concerns people have about this memory work thing -
1) It sounds awfully stringent and tortuous - they are so little - let them play.

Which I would answer with the fact that they consistently BEG for memory work. Ask Ada Brooks her favorite subject - Art and Memory Work in a dead heat for first. Eason, seriously, will quit playing legos, unprompted, to come to the table to do memory work. He gets very, very upset if he doesn't get to give the presidents a go, and if I forget to ask him the patriarchs because, again, who cares, he very adamantly reminds me. If they are begging to do it, it cannot be that bad.
Also, it's 30 minutes a day.
I am not James Mill pounding Greek into little John Stuart so that one day he has a nervous breakdown. I promise. Really, I do.

The other concern tends to be 2) Aren't you brainwashing them?

Well, in one way, yes. I am purposefully forming their brains around certain facts. But all of the facts are true.

Most of them are things that are objectively confirmed by numerous sources - George Herbert Walker Bush was, in fact, POTUS from January of 1989 to January of 1993.

It occurred. It's true truth. Truthiness. Really.

I mean, unless we're in the matrix.

hee hee hee. Gotcha again!


There are other facts that are disputed - Have you a soul as well as a body? a lot of disagreement there.
But I believe it's true. I mean, most days I do. And if I believe it's true, why shouldn't I teach it to my children?
Oh, so they can grow up and "discover" it themselves?

I hope they do that, too. I'm fully prepared for, and hoping, that Ada Brooks comes up to me when she's fifteen and says, "Hey- what if this whole faith thing is just an opiate for the masses?" - At which point, I'll sit down and explain to her my own moments in that place - why her father and I both had (have) a lot of those moments, and ultimately, in a Kierkegaard-esque move, made a decision to stop having those moments, or rather, made a decision to live faithfully.

Which requires, incidentally, that we teach our children our faith.

Giving your child a grounding in the faith that you hope they will always hold is not brainwashing - it's the only logical thing to do.

Paul and I toyed with, as I'm sure most educated people do at some point, trying to teach every faith/nonfaith with the same level of objectivity and letting the kids 'make their own faith decisions.'

But rejected that because 1) it's not possible - look at the way public schools in America have tried this - it doesn't happen, 2) What's the point, really? So we can have an air of superiority about not brainwashing our children?, and 3) because I believe that the God that I actually believe in would not have me to do that.

Proverbs 22:6 teaches us to "Train up a child in the way he should go; even when he is old he will not depart from it."

Tell them what to do! And if you tell them what to do (love their neighbor), eventually, if they're smart, you are going to have to tell them why (Because we believe in scripture and in Jesus and that's what scripture and Jesus say).

I brainwash them about math - 2 + 2 = 4

(and yes, they just believe this for a while - before they 'discover it themselves' - and yes, there are those educators who actually take the whole discovering it for themselves to the logical extension it requires and don't teach the math facts - they wait for discovery. Guess how well those folks do on the SAT?)

I brainwash them about nutrition - Broccoli is good for you, velveeta not so much.

So, yes, I guess I'm also brainwashing about God. And history. And grammar.

If, at the end of the day, we've only told them things that are true, what will it matter that we've poured those things into their brains before they can intellectually fight back?

And, again, if they're true, what will it matter when they do fight back?