Auntie Em!

In case any relatives of mine see on the news that there have been tornadoes near us, well... yes, there have been; however, we and our property are all fine.  The nearest it's come to us (50 miles) is that a water pump at the Husband's work got smashed by hail and we've had some impressive thunderstorms.  Welcome to Texas in the springtime!

Also, happy birthday, Buddy.

As of this posting, the birthday gentleman is still asleep, but when he wakes up I will take some Now We Are Two pictures.

Cheers,

Breanna

A Few Morning Pics

Have I mentioned I hate Internet Explorer 9?  It won't let me read any blogs on Blogger.  It hates Blogger.  Blogger stole its girlfriend years ago and they haven't spoken since.  Or something.  Anyway I am now obliged to use Big Brother Google Chrome as a browser.  Tell me if this makes my posting look weird, will you?  And don't tell me anything you don't want Our Evil Overlords Google to know.

But, why male models?

Pretending that she doesn't know she's sitting on the coffee table, which is technically not allowed...

Quits smiling as soon as I get the camera out, like the man he is.

A few pictures, as promised. ;)

Thanks for the "Hank the Cowdog" recommendation, Aunt Hiedi--I had forgotten about that one and it's coming in the mail as we speak.

More soon.

Cheers,

Breanna

School

I know, I know, it's practically summer.

Also, I should totally get a picture of Miss Boo and her reading book for you.  (This one, if you're curious.)  But we are just recovering from our colds, and taking an extra long nap (hence the ability of Mama to post), so no picture yet.

In the meantime, I thought you might want to hear about our adventures in homeschooling.

Miss Boo has been learning to read.  We've always played with letters--you know, the typical fridge-magnet "that's the letter A" stuff, so she knows her letters.

(Buddy does too, I discovered today.  I haven't explicitly taught him yet, since I was sort of waiting for him to communicate in English on some kind of regular basis.  On a whim, to distract him while he was falling asleep for a nap this afternoon, I asked him to find a letter T on the book I was holding.  He found three.  Then two Rs, three Es, and the colors yellow, blue, and pink.  Hm.  This lends credence to my theory that the kid doesn't talk because he thinks English is a dumb way to communicate.)

Anyway, Miss Boo and I have been working on phonics.  This was greatly aided by the arrival, in a PACKAGE, of all exciting things, of her new primer in the mail.  The primer helpfully has the alphabet on page 1 and a list of short, easy words (A is for AX, that sort of thing) after that, before Lesson I.  We work our way down the alphabet and Miss Boo can say most of the sounds of the letters.  I can feel that we're almost to the breakthrough where she will realize that /d/-/o/-/g/ can blend to "dog", and then there will be no stopping her.

In the mathematics section, we're counting.  We memorized 1-10 as a sequence, and the difficulty now is convincing Miss Boo that if we're counting, say, six pennies, that we should not make the last penny stand for 4 in order to end up at 10.  Buddy seems to get numbers (and shapes, and puzzles) intuitively and can even point out the right answer in the addition problems on Team Umizoomi.

Miss Boo wrote her name yesterday, in giant straggling letters, before deciding that the feet of the R needed to be touching (which made it into an 8) and that the whole thing would look prettier colored in, anyway.  It's a good thing I don't have to start keeping evidence of her work for a couple years.

Lest you think I'm pushing the child, let me tell you that while she was sick she actually whined for phonics.  I had to say, "no, let's drink our milk and have a rest and I will read you this story, and THEN after the rest we can do more letter sounds."  (She's gobbling up the Kirsten books--me reading them aloud, of course; I've got the Felicity books too, but am thinking we'll have to get some more if this keeps up.)

Anybody got ideas for an equivalent book/series I can read to Buddy when he discovers that all the American Girl books are about...uh, girls?  I thought about an old series of cowboy books I read as a kid that included titles about Kit Carson and Portugee Phillips, but I don't know if I can lay hands on them.

Consider that your homeschooling update of the week.  I sense in my bones we'll be doing a lot more reading aloud presently.

Cheers,

Breanna

In lieu of a Thursday post....

I couldn't make my browser work well enough to grab their button.  Click on the link to "Like Mother, Like Daughter" in the sidebar.  Because I couldn't grab their button, this is being posted today instead of Thursday.  This is how great a webmistress I am.  Just call me Nell Quickly.

LMLD has such a good idea going on--sort of the fostering of the virtue of contentment with visual aids.  It's a valuable fostering, because getting up with feverish, croupy, and unreasonable toddlers at 4am does not inspire contentment on its own.  She makes a sweet (albeit runny-nosed) picture, though, doesn't she?

As I understand it the idea at LMLD is to find the pretty, happy, funny, real parts of our own homes and enjoy them.  Or at least notice them, for longer than it takes to clean them up.

Because I mean, I'm no decorator, and I don't naturally even remember to hang up pictures, but it occured to me this morning there were some nice corners in my new house that weren't just put there by the contractor.

Big sister loving on little brother is one such thing.

Even if we have to forbid the kissing because of the aforementioned croupy feverishness.

And this elephant.  It came back from Africa with Baba, and we like it a lot.

And this angel.  (Remember it, Aunt Kenny?)

And these angels.

And the quilt that Grandma had the foresight to make in Texas colors, with stars.  How smart was that?  It makes my boys room looked like I actually decorated it, when in fact I just hung some things up.

It's amazing what a few pictures can do for a hard morning.  See, I don't do well when forced to wake up before my time.  And you can't very well pull the "well, they just have to learn to sleep alone" thing when the kids are sick, can you?  (I can't even pull it when they're well, and they seem to be learning to sleep alone just fine.)  But look at this little foot, and I defy you to not have a good morning even if it DOES involve cleaning up potty training mistakes, waiting for the security company guy to turn on the alarm system, doing laundry because nobody has underpants, and mixing up what we are optimistically calling "medicine juice".

Some things are just rewarding.

Other things, you thank God for allowing you to have remembered.  (Do we have any baby Motrin?  Do we have that one cough syrup that actually works without the harmful stuff in it?  Yes, we do.  Thank You, Lord.)

Still other things are comfortable and pleasant through sheer repetition.  Why is it nice to get a newspaper?  Because it comes every day, that's why.

This is yet another of my nice corners.  Books were prettier back in the day.

I have... eclectic shelves.

Do the leaves on this tree remind you of the star-shaped leaves in "The Land Before Time"?  The ones that the baby dinosaurs eat that actually look tasty?

I suppose it says something that my homeschooling shelf is no better organized.  Oh well.  Plenty of time to alphabetize things when they all reliably know their alphabet.

For the most part my life is pretty, and happy, and funny (too much), and definitely real.  It's nice to call it out once in a while.  We get enough ugly, sorrowful, grim, fake things in our daily diet.

Cheers,

Breanna

P.S.  We still say "boo!" to the mommy dinosaur dying in "The Land Before Time".  That's just messed up.

Coughs

First, a plant:

It's a strawberry plant in a Texas star planter!  Isn't it cute?  At least it brings a bit of brightness into an otherwise somewhat challenging day.

For instance, the challenge of potty training.  Viz., going poo in the chair, but then trying to carry the bucket to Mama to show it off and spilling the poo and negating the whole point of getting it in the chair.  Oh well, at least I know he can pronounce it.  ("Oh." whispered:  "Poop.  Ooooooh.  Poop.")

The prematurely rolling 2-month-old-who-thinks-he-is-four-months old.  He gets onto one side no problem, and likes to flip from stomach to back.  Ha!  Take that!  You can't make me have "Tummy Time", so there!

The girl who woke in the night with a cough and a fever, and crawled in next to Mama to breathe on her all night.  (Mama didn't mind, it reassured her that the breathing was indeed happening.)  That's elderberry syrup around her mouth, not iodine, by the way.

BUT God has given us a beautiful, not-too-hot day, a plentiful supply of fluids and cartoons, and supportive new neighbor friends.  He is very good.

Cheers,

Breanna

Contentment

It's odd, isn't it.

Murillo's "Holy Family with a Little Bird".  Forget for a minute that they were poor, first-century Judeans and not wealthy, sixteenth-century Spaniards.  Look at what they're doing.  Mary, for instance, has a basket of mending or laundry, and has apparently just stopped long enough to eat something.  Joseph and the Baby are playing with the dog, who has gotten into the house again.  There is more work waiting in the background, wool to be wound off that swift, for instance.

In spite of the fact that we have a God who over and over again insists He is the Giver of abundance, we tend to think of "contentment" as meaning "being cheerful with less".

Actually, contentment means "being cheerful with what God has given you", which may or may not be "less" than your neighbor (or sibling, or parents, or coworkers) has.  In my case I'm pretty okay with the "less" bit.  I think I've got that nailed, mostly--in some ways less is simpler; what bewilders me is being content with having more.

Please note that in saying what I'm about to I am not minimizing the commands Christ gave us to, say, take care of poor people, widows, and the sick.  But I've been mulling something over lately, and I'm just putting it out there for you to think about.

American Christians lately are fond of the term "social justice", and of critiquing the national sins of America.  I'm not minimizing the sins we commit collectively, whether that's abortion or overspending.  But I do want to point out that collective sin can't exist without personal sin, and that it probably makes more sense to repent of personal sin (say, pride, or discontentment) than it does to talk angrily about the national sin that those people are doing.

What I mean by linking contentment to national sin is that, if you are an American, God put you in America at this moment for a reason.  Just as Christ did not lead an insurrection against Rome, but instead told people to do boring things like take care of sick people, pay their taxes honestly, and quit stealing at work, so we in America may not actually be called on to change the power structure in our nation.  The best way of giving to the poor may not be through redistributing wealth or bitterly sniping at those who refuse (or can't afford) to fund homeless shelters with us--it might be through helping someone inconvenient and closer.  Say, asking your annoying mother-in-law, who's a widow and having trouble making her rent, to stay with you this summer, although the prospect makes your tongue itch.

America may or may not be more decadent than other societies that happen to have a lot of material goods.  (My vote goes to Greece at the height of its power, actually--sure they invented geometry and democracy, but they also had atrocious sexual mores, no freedom for women, and institutionalized slavery.)  The answer is not to put off personal repentance until after national repentance occurs.  Instead, be content--that means cheerful, not grimly resigned--to be living in an affluent, possibly decadent society, and do what you know is right.

First of all it's very unlikely that national repentance, on a meaningful level, ever will occur.  We've had, by some reckonings, three Great Awakenings in American history.  We wouldn't need more than one if they were really the answer, and we know from Scripture that, as we approach the end of time, things get worse and not better.  This is not an excuse to exploit others, but it helps us distribute our energy more wisely to know that societies do not matter as much as individuals--since people will exist forever, in heaven or hell, while societies will die in a few hundred years at best.  So let's use the political power we have righteously, but let's not kid ourselves that it's our main job.

Secondly, if it ever is to occur, national repentance has to begin as individual repentance.

Let me reiterate that individual repentance often does not mean changing your voting patterns, writing to your congressman, harassing your school board, or burning someone else's collection of heavy metal CDs.  (I don't think they'd really burn that well anyway.)  Individual repentance usually means something boring and difficult like not snapping at your husband, refusing to feel put upon because you have to shop at Walmart and not Whole Foods, homeschooling the kids cheerfully, or accepting that you would not be a better Christian if only you lived in a developing country instead of surrounded by all these decadent gringos.

The oddity of Christian contentment means we have to work to relieve suffering and promote justice without the hag-ridden zeal of those who reform society as a primary occupation.  We don't get to despise the rich or have contempt for the poor.  We don't get to blend comfortably with much of anyone--not with those who think the market is the answer to suffering, or with those who think it's socialism.  We have to preach generosity to one and refraining from covetousness to the other.  We have to repent when our preoccupation with Important Stuff makes us snap at our kids or spend money that ought to have gone to other things.

All in all I think dealing with personal repentance gives us enough to do.

Cheers,

Breanna

Viking Hooch

What have we been doing for two days, you ask?  Other than pottying all over the great state of Texas (which still thinks it is a republic, I find)?  Bootleggin'.

We're making mead!  Just like Beowulf got sloshed on!

(Not that we intend to get sloshed.  But how cool would it be to play an RPG while sipping mead...preferably from a chalice?)

Actually, it's not bootlegging--it's only illegal to make your own liquor if you sell it.  Anyway mead is a wine.  We use this recipie.  I'll tell you how it comes out in two months.  If you have a surfiet of honey and are tired of making honey butter, I can think of worse ways to use it up.  As it was, I just bought the stuff at Walmart.  It only takes 3lbs of honey, which came to about $6 for the most expensive ingredient.  I say, go for it.

It was cool for a couple of days so I took the moment to make bread.  Feels more like home once I've done that.  Things rise really fast here, FYI.

This is Miss Boo "making a silly face for you, Mama".

This is Buddy, eating his sister's granola.  (Also homemade.  I can't force myself to pay for cold cereal these days, it's like it's coated in diamond dust or something.)

I made yogurt too, shown here incubating in the microwave, where it kept nicely warm.  (Not heated in the microwave, I just used the nice, air-tight and critter-tight box to keep it safe overnight.)  I find I can't force myself to pay for yogurt, either, especially since the stuff without NutraSweet costs MORE.  Bleah.

This is the animal that Miss Boo decreed is named Padraig Pat-Pat Lastname, waiting for stray granola bits.

Worn out from all the pottying.

Jump forward in time.  We are now at this afternoon, playing with red dirt on top of the dog crate.  I think that's Nutella on her face, though.  I hope that's Nutella on her face.

Sunny day.  I always hated having my picture taken while staring into the sun, too, kid.  Sorry.  It's a ritual of childhood.  Someday you'll grow up and force your kid to stare into the sun while you take his picture.

A view of my back porch, for the curious.  We do put things away sometimes.  I'm thinking I need a set of metal shelves for the toys.

The book-with-flawed-arguments that inspired the mead making.  Because flawed arguments notwithstanding, who can resist making four bottles of medieval wine for about $8?  And in this woman's world, the brewing of Viking hooch on your countertop is completely normal.  That is something I can get behind.

A view FROM my back porch, for the curious.  Yes, this is April.  Really.  No fools.

The impatients my sweet MIL bought me.

We had to switch to swimsuits...

Guess why?

Cheers,

Breanna