What I want for my little one

I just got back from a Geek Girl dinner at Google headquarters. It was nice, but one little part that stuck was by an Indian panelist who expressed how "my mom wanted the best for me and my sisters. She was constantly urging us to aim high." (The comment loses it's power in the retelling -- you had to be there.)

The comment shifted my thinking a little. This morning when the fluffy-headed little Aee emerged from her room asking for me to replace the batteries in one of her toys, instead of saying, "Sure, in a minute" (which comes all too naturally). Instead, I reached over to my purse and pulled out a mini screwdriver so we could open the toy together and replace the batteries together. I knew she was good with electronics, but it was sheer joy watching her wield that little screwdriver and without a blink of hesitation do the lefty-loosely, pull out batteries, insert batteries checking for proper orientation, then righty-tighty.

I have no idea where Aee's future interests will lie. For now, she's rounding out all sorts of abilities that will bolster her in the future.

I have given a lot of thought to what I want for her. The current vision is that I want her to:

* have ample opportunity to develop abilities
* be surrounded by supportive, helpful people
* develop a solid sense of self-chosen direction

For this particular little kid at this particular point in time, those are the items at the top of the list.

What will he be?

You know how, as a young mother, you watch your toddler eat full-fisted, smashing the food against the sides of his mouth as well as the main "entrance". You sit there and wonder, "Oh yeah, he's going to be such a refined adult someday..."

Well...

My eldest, Vee, took a college what-will-I-be-when-I grow-up test and it showed that he will be a:

Latin philosopher robotics engineer

The funniest part is that I can actually envision what that job would entail, which institutions might seek such an odd mix, and how he could implement those varied interests into a meaningful, contributing adult life.

It's so sad. One day he was shoving his dinner all over his rosy cheeks. The next day, he's a young man with such definitive tastes, he can identify different types of apples by flavor and texture (blind test).

Never in my wildest dreams did I think he might grow up to be Latin philosopher robotics engineer.

Good, Better, Best, part 3

After all this ramp-up to the Good, Better, Best discussion (which was a *laugh-riot*), I saw a bit more clearly my own little personal insight that had been lurking around the corners all week. Here it is in all its wondrous glory:

Why "Best"? During the discussion, we talked about how it's ok to only choose the good, to relax, take a break, yadda, yadda, sometimes "good" is good enough. Well... perhaps that's fine and good and wonderful for others, but it didn't ring true for me. Here's my scenario: half of the time, I feel like I'm drowning. As I doggy-paddle, am I looking for little arm-floaties or am I looking for the biggest, most boyant life raft I can find? You guessed it -- I'm looking for the best because you know what? I'm tired.

At the root, it's a delightfully simple matter. Applied to everyday, am I going to watch the movie with my kids (good), read them stories (better), or have face-to-face, heart-to-heart discussions with them (best)? Chuck the movie, save stories for bedtime, and sit down for the conversation.

The Good, Better, Best filter is such an effective mechanism for determining right action (yes, that is a whisper of Buddhism).

So, each person uses the mechanism differently, it scales well to every particular life, but for me, in this time and season I can only afford the best. It isn't a matter of achievement level, it's a matter of situational need.

For example, for dinner, it's the foods that will give me the best level of energy (anything less and I'll be an incoherent blob tomorrow); at night it's the reading material that will give me the best quality sleep (or I'll be wide awake at 1 am); during the day, it's the focus (ARG) that will give me the best quality work output (easier said than done); and with my kids, it's the activities that will give them the best sense of momma-loves-me (because heaven knows there's not enough of me to go around).

I think those with more rich reserves can probably afford more Good & Better choices in their lives. For me, in this particular season I need to be surrounded by the Best in order to survive & thrive. So... I guess the logic could follow that if you're reading this blog, you probably know me, and if you know me, then I have chosen to have you in my life, and if you're in my life, you're The Best!

Hehe. =)

What was I thinking?

If I was blogging accurately, giving a fully authentic view of the everyday, then nearly every blog post would begin with "What was I thinking??"

Today's WWIT began with my wishful dream of having a good work day alongside my children, while they played with friends, did projects, and traveled along their own little roads less traveled. The kids all have a day off school due to a district-wide teacher training workshop thing-a-ma-jig and so throughout Berkeley there are children everywhere wondering what happened to their Daily Routine.

My two youngest had playdates lined up; my two eldest had work projects, home projects, and a tournament downtown in the afternoon. Momma thought she could run-run a bit and keep a beautiful flow to the day. What was I thinking? Sonic the hedgehog himself couldn't keep up withe these kids today.

Jee spent all of 20 min at his playdate when the family had an emergency and I had to rush to pick him up, acquiring yet another child along the way. Aee never did get a playdate lined up. All her preferred friends are at camps, other schools, or various drop-off spots since most parent's work schedules are not as carefree as that of their children. Vee and Kee are doing an amazing job at their own respective work, but still. They are loud. They are stinky. But, they are currently regrouting the tub, so I shan't complain.

Sometimes I have a skipping-through-the-tulips view of what mothering should be like. Ha.

Mothering is full of stink, mess, and heartache, but the pay-off is worth every minute of it.

Pollyanna / Charlotte

Someone commented the other day that I was being a Pollyanna... to which I replied, "Thanks! That's a nice compliment, but a bit retro... It would probably be more accurate to call me a Charlotte."

Charlotte as in Making Fiends.

Good, Better, Best, part 2

Ah-ha for the day:
The most urgent thing is not always the Best thing

Tonight's Good = put in a few more hours of work (which is definitely urgent)

Tonight's Better = lighten up a bit, spend a little more time with my family

Tonight's Best = play a board game w/ fam then zonk hard & fast so I can get up before the sun rises.

Zzzz.

First words

Sometimes I marvel at the first words that I hear every morning. I wonder if all people hear such things when they wake up?

This morning, I woke up at 4 am, fully alert and feeling the pressure of paperwork I hadn't finished the night before. I got settled into my desk and started spinning like some secretarial gerbil. An hour later, about 5 am, I heard a sloppy pitter-putter down the hallway. My littlest wandered out: "Lucia kicked me awake."

A few minutes later, Jee wandered out, all bushy-headed: "I want to make worms!"

Kee enters the scene a bit later: "Your face...."

Vee's turn another 1/2 hr later, giving me a fluffy grin, "Meh."

I had just read the night before about how the first words, thoughts, actions of the day can have a powerful agenda-setting effect on the rest of the day. I put those together and wondered... "Lucia kicked me awake; I want to make worms; your face...; meh."

Wow, it's going to be an interesting day (and it was).

First, "Lucia" was the name of Aee's friend and she was over last night for Aee's first sleepover. Despite having a bunk bed, they both wanted to sleep on the same "level" so they slept foot-to-foot, thus the "kicking me awake".

"Worms" are a crocheted bit of string. Jee just learned how to crochet from his papa and the strips of crocheted yarn look like worms, so of course, he must make lots of them.

"Your face..." is a joking, jostling sort of expression that Kee uses often, interchangeable with "Ton visage..."

"Meh," is Vee's universal, non-commital, non-judgemental, non-anything response to everything.

I wonder what my first words were this morning? My first unspoken words were, "Oh crud, am I waking up? Please don't wake up; please don't wake up. Slow the breathing down s-l-o-w. Straighten out all comfy-like. Feel that peaceful pillo... Oh crud, I'm awake. Might as well get some work done."

My first spoken words were, "Good morning sweetheart!" when I saw my child and yes, it was a good morning.

Good, Better, Best, part 1

Dilemma of the week (or if I was totally in non-denial, "Dilemma of my adult life") = Focus, staying in the moment.

Sometimes (often) when my kids ask me something, my mind is multitasking on other work and visa versa; when a work project needs my full attention, my mind is often multitasking on how I should have listened to my kids earlier. Doh.

Scenario that happens all-too-often:

Vee / Kee: "Mom, I ___ and ___. Do you think ___? What about ___?"

Me: "Muh huh... Yes, sure... Hum... Uh huh...."

Vee / Kee: "Mom, I put the box of magnets on top of your laptop, and well, the house is on fire."

Me: "...Uh huh...."

Vee / Kee: "Mom, are you composing an email instead of listening to me?"

Me: "Wha? Oh yeah, sorry. What did you say?"

This particular line of dysfunctional dialog started probably five years ago when Vee and Kee became self-aware enough to realize how deeply the mind can multitask. I think they became aware of this in their science class, the one with the really bad teacher. They had to keep a rich and vibrant inner world going to keep from withering in boredom.

It all started one day with The Confession. I hadn't been listening well that day and when Vee asked, "Mom, what's wrong? It seems like your mind is working on something else rather than listening to me." I confessed with, "Whoops. I'm composing an email in my mind and put your conversation on a bit of auto-pilot. Sorry about that, won't happen again."

Yeah, right.

So, now the joke is when you see me not listening, "Oh, she's composing an email, just let her be for a minute."

Last night as I was drowning in thoughts of what priorities I would try to attack today, I realized that I had many choices, far too many choices, and I needed to select only the best ones. On a broad, philosophical level, the best choice in any given situation is to give your full attention to the moment, to be fully alert and attentive. So, that's my focus for today - be attentive.

Let's see if this works.

Uh oh --> Ah ha

I was feeling bad this morning so I emailed a friend who helped me get from uh oh (feeling yucky) to ah ha. It was a simple realization. I had been feeling yucky because of interactions with people who made me feel yucky. It wasn't a matter of "no one can make you feel bad, you choose how you feel". Instead, it was a matter of being overly taxed and not able to let it slide off thoroughly enough.

So, through my conversation with this friend, I realized I need to bolster my interactions with my woman friends who:

* can solve problems on their own
* like themselves
and
* have nothing to prove

Top 5

My top 5 favorites:

* Walking to the market with my kids, walking to school, walking to church with my boys, laughing and joking as we walk

* A really fresh veggie prepped well

* A clean house

* Getting to talk w/ husband for 10+ minutes

* Good yoga, good sleep (those two go hand-in-hand)

My heart is walking around town

One of my all-time favorite books is "Between Mothers and Sons: an anthology of women writers' essays about raising sons" or something like that. One of the essays contained a line that conveyed:

"On the day you conceive a child, you make an irrevocable agreement to allow your heart to walk around outside you for the rest of your days."

At the time I didn't understand it. "...your heart walk around outside you..." How odd.

But then one day about a year ago, about this time of year even (Finals week at the high school) I felt this so clearly that the phrase I had read a decade earlier stabbed straight through.

When I agreed to have a child, I also agreed to let my heart walk around outside me for the rest of my days. I dug the book out of my bookcase. Sure enough, that's what it said.

This particular day, I was watching Vee walk to school. He had forgotten to do a set of assignments. He was getting a bad grade. And such is the life of an academically inclined perfectionistic soul -- some of the worst pains are made up of the first four letters of the alphabet which are not the A.

It was one of those agonizing, trapped, suffocating feelings that just wouldn't ease up. Forget any of the "It's no big deal, it's only a grade" or other such light-heartedness because the trigger for this growing pain is irrelevant. (The trigger could have been so many other things.) My heart was right there alongside his, aching and wishing for peace.

Why mention it now? Because it's Finals week again and I am finally beginning to classify this particular ache as a symptom of growing pains, nothing more than a symptom. It's rough to see your child hurt.

The book that explains this best: "The Blessing of a Skinned Knee"

If anyone ever gave a comprehensive view of the extent of agony involved in childbirth and childrearing, the human race would extinguish itself in a single generation.

Sand

Our little family is psyched about an upcoming vacation with Grandma & Grandpa. They booked a beach house rental in No Cal so we can play in the sand for a while.

I was unofficially announcing it during dinner the other night and Aee's little eyes opened so wide. Her mouth was overstuffed with more sticky rice than a wee little mouth should be able to hold, so she couldn't say anything. Instead, she got up, made her way around, under, over, and through the mess of table, chairs, and people so she could near me, then in my ear (getting sticky in my hair) she whispered, "I LOVE SAND" in the most mystical, wishful voice.

I think we're going to have fun.

The first time Aee saw a beach was on Galveston beach in S Texas. The beach was miles & miles of white sand, but it was a little chilly. Aee shook uncontrollably so we tried to cover her up and it just made her shake more. We took her back to the car to warm up and she shook more. She screamed when we tried to warm her up.

Why?

Can you guess?

She shook because she was so excited about being in the sand. It was her home. She was a beach baby like her papa. The shaking had nothing to do with body temp and everything to do with enthusiasm levels.

So, is there anything that you shake for? I have seen friends get shaky like that while out shopping. I know I got shaky the other day when I saw a pair of boots that were apparently designed specifically for me.

I was trying to relate this to my beloved a few minutes ago, the concept of the shakes. I explained, "Imagine you were standing in front of the coolest, latest, pre-release piece of hardware. Would you have a reaction to it?" He nodded and laughed, "Oh yeah."

That's the same way little miss Aee feels when standing in front of the waves while sand seeps between her toes. She shakes at the sheer beauty and power of the ocean.

I hope I never forget that rice-stuffed mouth: "I LOVE SAND."

Come to think of it, she made that exact same comment the other day when I picked her up from school. She was licking the sand off her hands (had been playing in the sandbox). I told her the sand was horribly dirty, please don't eat it and she said, "But I love sand! It tastes yummy."

I sure hope it has fiber in it or something...

Parents I love

I love parents who:

* smile widely when they see their kids

* open their arms a bit wider when they see their kids

* who let their kids try hard things

* who always know where their kids are, what they are doing, and why they are doing it

I am surrounded by awesome parents.

What's worse than the 2nd day of not showering?

Being the last one in the room to realize that you're on the 2nd day without showering.

Positive words; Powerful results

I have been listening to an audiobook, "Positive Words; Powerful Results" so I can get the analytical version of why the positive outlook is so beautiful.

One of the best parts so far (and there have been many "best parts") goes something like this, "When you hear a word, you consume it as you would a piece of food. It becomes part of who you are. You are what you eat; you are what you hear; you are what you say."

We just came up with a way to communicate the bulk of the audiobook to the kids:
"You are what you eat, from your head to your feet.
You are what you say, in each and every way."

Dorky, I know, but it works.

Why don't you drink?

I had a friend ask me the other day why I didn't drink. I happily explained the basics, then she clarified with:

"No, I mean, why don't you drink soda?"

Doh.

I have a great set of reasons for the soda question and it sounds even more weird than the first set of reasons that I gave her for the misinterpreted first question.

"Why I don't drink pop" starts with, "Oh, it makes my feet hurt" and ends with "it gives me a headache." It made my first answer sound downright reasonable.

The more coherent answer is: I have learned that my body metabolizes sugar in a bad way, much like a diabetic, so I spike for about one second, then crash for the rest of the day, experiencing fatigue and aches that I don't care to feel ever again. I have seen the cause and effect too many times.

But it got me thinking... What if I had never seen the correlation? What if, every time I crashed, I thought, "Oh, it's a bad day" or "Oh, I'm always so tired" or some other generalized, non-specific, non-seeking response. I know so many people (myself included) who don't make those cause & effect connections as par for the course.

Luckily, I grew up in a Primary class where Consequences were the Topic of the Week every week and a little bit of it sunk in. After spending all my college years on the pop-o-roller-coaster-of-doom (drinking those big mugs of pop) and after several years of early motherhood in the same unpleasant way, I finally saw the simple, obvious correlation.

Maybe next time someone asks why I don't drink I'll say, "Because I finally realized that all actions have a consequence," and then do some kind of yoga Om sign.

Hehe. It really was my first step in pattern-seeking.

Party Mondays

Today is a school vacation day so we are:

* building tents throughout the house

* learning new string games (think "cat's cradle")

* reading books and more books

* freezing cold (no heat)

* making necklaces for the cat

* baking cookies

* watching yeast grow (was supposed to be bread, but experimenting with the yeast is more fun)

* playing with friends

* going to & from study buddy sessions

* cleaning house (why is that on every day's list??)

* learning how to tie good bows

* running to the bakery and back for treats (bread)

* playing with Moon Sand

* yoga-ing

etc.

Sleep puking

There are two types of delusional parents -- those who think their children are perfect and those who think theirs are the only ones who are "this weird".

I am in the latter group.

The first time Vee ever puked was in the car. He said, "I'm gonna barf!" then held his mouth shut until I :

* pulled the car over

* found a good box to catch it in

* climbed back to his carseat in the back seat of the minivan.

He held his puke until I could catch it neatly.

That's weird.

His younger brother Kee, saw all this in action and thought that it was perfectly normal for a child to hold it until there was a safe catching receptical available.

Weird too.

Jee never saw someone puke, so he assumed that people did it in private. I have never seen him puke. He disappears into the bathroom and does it privately, very much like a cat or some other privacy-driven animal. If he's sick, he keeps it to himself.

And if I thought it could get more weird, Aee sleep pukes. (see previous post below)

I didn't even know there was such a thing.

Focus.

Those of you who have read my blog for more than a post or two know that I try really, really hard to focus on the positive. Blogging is one way of reassuring myself that yes, there are delightful moments in every day, so much to appreciate, yadda, yadda.

So, today was awful (details deleted due to high toxicity levels).

Tonight was tough too, run, run, too much that had to get done and not enough time to do it. Top it off with Jee's reminder, "I need a present for my friend's party. Tomorrow." Since there's no time tomorrow, it must be purchased now, at past-bedtime hours, after Jee and Aee have had a looong, taxing day, after I have been drained of every last wee little bit of patience, that's the time when we have to do toy shopping? Plus, they're hungry. Did I mention they hadn't had dinner yet so we were about to enter a toy store with empty tummies? I was hoping my magical fairy godmother would take care of the requisite present shopping, but I haven't heard from her in years. I think she quit.

(More details deleted.) We survived the trip. We get home. Aee is sick to her stomach and is complaining about tummy aches. She never throws up, so I'm sure she's just overtired. We read stories for far too long, then Aee begs to go to sleep beside me while I work on my laptop. Ok, sure. I love having a snuggle-bum beside me keeping my back warm. She falls asleep fast and furious.

I work and wish that I could fall asleep with such depth. Insomnia has been my companion lately and I... (unpleasant details deleted). My back warmer has been asleep for about an hour when I hear a rushing of fluids, "Ble...a...rch!" and a hot, gush of warmth on my back.

I jumped straight up in the air, seriously, I have no idea how else I could have pole vaulted over the lumpy mess of child + puke so quickly without disturbing the covers. I think I went straight up like a cat with it's claws out.

It was possibly the most disgusting thing I have ever felt. Yet, the whole time I'm thinking, "Where's the positive? Where's the bleeping positive?!"

There were plenty:

* At least I was able to get the puke off me quickly, well within the 5 second rule boundaries: "If the puke isn't on you for more than 5 seconds, then you haven't actually been puked on."

* At least she stayed asleep through the whole thing. Sleep. Puke. Sleep. (Remind me not to smell her morning breath!)

* At least I had extra bedding and a mega thick cushy pad underneath the covers to catch it all.

* At least I had a husband who, thanks to having spent the weekend in a comfy office chair, was now very much in the "What can I do to help?" mode. I was able to leave the pile of puked-on laundry in a spot where he could clean it up later whenever he gets home.

* At least she was able to get it out, rather than the alternative tummy ache expressed through belly aching.

So, no more belly aching on my part. There's always a positive somewhere.

Geeky conversations

I should add on to that last post (below) that Vee has been saying similar phrases for years. For example:

Me: I made an apple pie (one of his favorites).

Vee: Slash, cheer, enter!

It's just the way he talks.

And before I complain that, "it's not normal", I'll instead take a wee bit of a reality check. He doesn't swear. He's polite. He has always treated me and other family members with respect.

Slash, cheer, enter!

The funniest things

Tonight I made the mistake of making a comment that sounded a bit like a whine...

...and since I have spent the last 15 / 16 years teaching Kee / Vee not to whine...

...and since I have spent the last 10 / 11 years teaching them the value of hard work (done without whining)...

When my words had a little complaint-tone to them, Vincent looks at me with his big blue eyes and says, (I love this part)

"Slash, cry, enter."

Ha!

Breakin da rules

There are so many rules in life that were meant to be broken.

My 15 yo boy knits. He's really good at it. His friends admire him for it.

My 6 yo boy has neat handwriting.

My 5 yo girl doesn't hit like a girl. She hits like someone who understands the mechanics behind momentum, impact, and fist formation.

My 16 yo boy is a poet and he actually wants to create peace & happiness for those around him.

The rule that says teenagers are "going through a difficult time" is possibly one of the most cruel social rules we have ever written as a society, but whatever. I found a town where rules are easily broken. I'm happy.

Sweetness

You know that surge of accomplishment that comes when you give that last 10%? Well, I tried it yesterday and it worked.

I had been feeling yucky, mucky, blucky, incredibly stupid and unproductive for several days thanks to the unfortunate cocktail of sleep deprivation plus intense back pains.

So, yesterday when I had a horribly difficult phone call to make and I didn't want to (no! don't make me!) I did it anyway and I survived.

Later, when a big wig offered me either a phone call or an in-office visit in SF, I shoved out the hesitation and said, "Office!" and zoom, I was out the door.

Later, when Jee and Aee had sibling "disagreement" (read: "fight") I dug right in and helped them work through it, not just brush over it. Painful, but worthwhile, growth.

(Skip a big part of the day)

Later that night, Kee said, "Let's go on a quick run," I found myself saying, "Let's go!"

What?

I have barely been able to walk the last few days! When I stand up, I look like I have advanced osteoporosis. My back has been screeee-aaaming like a two year old for days, yet when my teenager asks me to go on a run, I say, "Let's go!"

What an idiot.

We start out with a brisk walk, then a jog, then before I know it, my back feels great and we're racing. He started the final sprint home a full block early. (Since the sprint is only one block long, adding a 2nd block is a Big Fat Hairy Deal.)

The end result? I felt slightly less like a loser when my head hit the pillow since I had taken advantage of opportunity that day. I slept like a baby, without the weight regret that I often carry.

What a brain pretzel -- working harder makes it easier. I really shouldn't try to think this hard.

Sleep, work, sleep, work

How can I possibly get a good day's work in with a big lump of a sleepy black cat on my desk?

I was up at 3 am, now it's 9 am and I should be working on... some stuff that seems wildly important today, but next year I will have forgotten why it was important at all. But, anyway, how can I work with the sound of soft cat breathing 2 feet away??

If I move him, he'll just come back.

If I move myself, he'll just move near me.

If I insist that he leave (keep putting him down off the desk) then he'll just pounce back up until I get tired of lifting him down.

The cat is being tyrannical.

Mixed-up high school

Thanks to a friend, we have been re-discussing this particular paradox, one we have gone over again and again (and again) ad nauseum without any successful answers:

Parents tell you, "Do good in school."

They also tell you, "The most 'successful' kids in high school turned out to be the biggest losers as adults and visa versa."

What a brain pretzel.

So, we were talking about it again during dinner and Vee and Kee pointed out that their school is so large, so chaotic, so bizarre, that many of the standards that comprise the American high school are not relevant there. Does the school have cheerleaders? I dunno, but we have a barbeque club. Are there popular kids? Define "popular". Are their cliques? What's a clique again? A group of kids.

I asked them to define their current group.

After a brief overview of their group, they revealed that it includes several freshmen, one sophomore (Vee), and several juniors.

I gasped at the horror of it. Interclass friendships? The thought! I briefly explained how it was "supposed to work" at high school campuses where the class level was distinctly defined, but they looked at me like I was loopy.

So, apparently they are (hopefully) at a school where this particular paradox is less than necessary. But I do love that paradox: "Do good... and if you do good now and you'll fail in life long-term." Ha!

You're being tyrannical

The closest Jee and Aee have come to a dinosaur obsession (a relatively normal preschool to early elementary phase) was this:

Mom: "You are being tyrannical." (to a child throwing a fit)

Jee: "Tyrannical as in tyrannasaurus rex?"

(discussion about how and why the dinosaur was pegged with that particular root word)

That's it. That's all the dinosaurs they needed / wanted.

These days, "You're being tyrannical" is one of our favorite phrases. It has such a funny ring to it and it seems to diffuse any tension. You can't say, "You're being tyrannical" and still keep a frown on. It just isn't possible.

Gorgeous Gratitude

So, there are two women in one of my "circles" who are both shockingly, jaw-droppingly beautiful. I just noticed a similarity between the two and I find it is probably not a coincidence that they both share this particular characteristic.

But first, let me back up. For Mrs. A, the first time I heard her talk I wondered if there was anything but fluffy bunnies and sweet flowers in her head -- she was so upbeat and positive that it was, again, shocking. The more I got to know her (you know who you are!) the more I realized that her positive attitude and focus on beauty was purely sincere and a conscious choice. She wanted the world to be a beautiful place and in many different ways, she made it happen. She had done some amazing things with her life, was highly active, alert, and in general, gushed love and appreciation.

Mrs. B was the same. I spent a few weeks wondering if she was saccharine (as I had met so many times in Stepford-land). She was enduringly sweet. I even tried once to get her to say something negative about someone, anyone. I didn't approach it blatantly, more of a see-if-she's-human approach. Sure enough, she did *not* bite. She kept her grace, sweetness, and complete compassion for everyone intact.

So, I have thought long & hard about why they have chosen to be so sweet.

I find it no coincidence that their physical beauty mirrors their focus on only the beautiful.

I also find it no coincidence that one person I knew a long time ago and in a land far away who focused only on the negative was one of the hideous people to look at. There was hatred etched in every cell.

So, back to the positive... I had a chance to see the mothers of each of these women, so that I could tell if this beauty was inherited or if it was earned.

Their beauty was earned.

So, if you see my gushing love and appreciation, know that I'm now mildly aware of what type of path that puts people on.

Speechless

I was talking with a fellow parent today about kids learning Latin (along the lines of "How Latin helps kids unravel so much about their language") and the parent made a comment I hadn't heard in a while. I think it was:

"But... it would be too hard to do more than one language at a time..."

Ironic enough, but I was speechless.

I don't like being speechless.

I looked over at my little daughter and my little son and realized that thanks to their current environment, they are having simultaneous instruction in:

* English
* French
* Spanish
* Mandarin Chinese
* Latin
* German
* Italian
* Hebrew
* Swedish

The top 7 are formal instruction (sitting at a table with a teacher in front); the 8th is starting in a tutor situation in the next week; the 9th is casual instruction which they hear around the dinner table as their brothers are learning AoFs in Swedish.

One at a time?

Doh! I missed that memo. Oh well.

The lines on my face

Every now & then we write notes to our kids, the same way my parents and one of my brothers wrote to me as I was growing up. Here's one that I'm dropping on Vee and Kee's desks today:

Dear child-o-mine,

You have probably noticed lately that both your father and I look tired and worn. You are seeing those little wrinkles form in places on our faces that used to be smooth.

I remember the first time I noticed that my mom and dad looked old. This is probably that same time in your life and I want to tell you a little more about why, how, and where those worry lines are forming so you can better understand your direct impact on us.

Here's one angle:

Some dads stay up late at night worrying about their sons who are out late, possibly doing drugs, being with girls, or otherwise messing up their youth.

Your dad is staying up late working on building a safety net for you so that if you become enamored with philosophy or medicine or ancient Greek literature in college, he can handle the college bills for a while longer while you explore.

What a liberating thought; what a freely lived life! We will earn those worry wrinkles one way or the other -- what beauty there is in earning them while building something good.

With every little choice you make throughout the day, you put yourself (and by default your family) on the path to greater freedom. Or not. You could be making choices that clamp us down to lesser freedom, where all our efforts are spent just staying afloat.

Instead, so many of your choices have been good, healthy, and mature, that we are focusing our efforts on developing the best kinds of worry wrinkles.

Here's another angle:

There are different types of wrinkles. Some moms form scowl wrinkles from looking angrily at their misbehaving children. Some moms form disappointment wrinkles. I hate disappointment wrinkles.

I'm forming smile lines, laugh lines, and fatigue lines. The smiles and laughs come from you between the hours of 4 and 9 pm. The fatigue lines come from all the other hours that I spend, working my hardest to build a future for our little family. The location and intent behind those lines is extremely important.

So, that's all for now, but pay attention to the lines on our faces -- they speak volumes of our love for you and for your future. You'll be earning your own lines soon enough.

Why do I do that?

Why do I make the kid's lunches the night before? Why do I make sure their clothes are set out and they are all showered or bathed before going to bed? Why, why, o, why would I do that?

Because I'm a neurotic control freak?

Possibly.

But it's more likely that in the morning, despite having "plenty of time" at my disposal to make lunches and verify that none of the children are leaving the house partially naked (because, of course, if the shirt you were going to wear isn't available, then, well, naked is the next option), instead of following my well-laid plan for the morning routine, I'll be dealing with:

* teenager not feeling so hot, can't bike to school, needs transport during the time when I should have been packing those lunches

* little one is struck with a desperate need for "ma chere maman"

* husband's car is not in front of the house where he last parked it. Dude, where's his car? Stolen. Again.

Despite my best plan, there are always monkey wrenches jiggling around. I had a friend ask me sincerely, several times, "Why do you write schedules if you know through experience that you will rarely follow those plans?"

Good question, my friend, good question.

Because writing plans is my way of grasping and regrasing my current realities and ability levels. It's awesome to see how those schedules have matured alongside me. I have had years of unrealistic schedules, lazy schedules, hyper schedules, focused ones and unfocused ones. I'm finally learning why I schedule -- for peace of mind.

I pack those lunches because I know what a great feeling it is to get to snuggle with Aee when she asks, even during a busy time. It's awesome. There's nothing like it. There's only one word for it: Payback.

I earned that hug.

Which book would you bring?

An IM conversation between Vee and his Papa:

2:09 PM V: I love my family

11 minutes

2:20 PM V: if you were shipwrecked and could only have one book, what would it be

2:21 PM me: The Book of Mormon

V: why not "how to build a boat"?

Good or not?

Sometimes I can't tell whether or not to correct what my kids say. Are they really out of line?

Today, Vee and Kee were in that joking competition mode where they one-up each other with "My __ is better than yours."

I had been about to correct them, the words, "OK, now, enough of that" were on my lips ready to launch until I *listened* to what they were saying.

Kee: "My MOM is better than yours."

Vee: "Nuh, uh! Mine is better than yours!"

Wha...?

They know that if they make my brain spin fast enough, they can get away with just about anything.

The distance between Point A and Point B

I love my husband. He has such clear sight. In his eyes, there are no obsctructions between Point A and Point B. If I ask him something outlandish, he gives a simple answer; if I ask him something simple, he still gives a simple answer. Simple.

I could ask him, "Let's move to Shang'hai" and he would respond with the same simplicity as if I had asked, "Please pass the ketchup."

Both replies are, "Sure."

He is so concise, so articulately clean, such a to-the-point type of person (a skill I obviously lack). It is refreshing to see how quickly he can cut through the crud and define the parameters of any given situation.

For example, today I wanted to know if he could chat safely through IM. I had a few "family matters" I didn't want aired in front of co-workers, questions I can usually ask him safely through IM. But, my dearest has just been moved from his own office to a sea of cubicles.

Poor guy. I'm sure he would rather be home in his pjs or bathrobe, listening to his favorite music, arranging his environment the way he likes it.

Instead, he gets a sea of cubicles and a button-down shirt. At least he gets to wear jeans, but the jeans are a minor form of rebellion.

I had no idea if his cubicle-mates could see his screen or not. How good were the boundaries set in this new location? Would his chat screen be visible to others?

Here's the IM conversation:

filly-filly-focus says:
you there?

E @ Work says:
yup

filly-filly-focus says:
are you visible / public?

E @ Work says:
not the chat

E @ Work says:
but I do have to keep my pants on

filly-filly-focus says:
rofl