They did a fashion show for French class (narrated in French, for educational value) and she had forgotten to bring something to model, so she got her winter coat out of her locker and wore it with her shorts. Then she walked down the runway doing vocalizations and movements that were an amalgam of dinosaur and goat. Kind of like this:

And yesterday she and her friend Judy got “stuck” in the library for their Flex hour (they needed to go to the library, but staying for more than the first five minutes meant they had to stay the whole hour) and they “got really bored,” so this is how they entertained themselves:

Mabel found a book about learning disabilities. She sat next to a girl on the sofa and said, “Do you think I should get this book?”

The girl avoided eye contact, and muttered, “I don’t know.”

Mabel persisted, “Because, I have a lot of problems when I forget to raise my hand, and lots of troubles. And I really don’t know whether I should get this book or not. So, do you think I should check it out?”

Still avoiding looking at Mabel, the girl said, “I don’t know. Just open it up and see!”

Mabel’s next target was a boy from Mabel’s French class. She brought him a book called, “How to Plant Almost Anything,” and asked, “Do you have a garden?”

“No, we just have a planter box.”

Mabel started to laugh. She said, “You should REALLY read this book.” She handed it to him and ran away.

She and Judy watched and saw their hapless victim open the book and look through it. A minute later he brought the book to Mabel and said, “Sorry, it looks like a really good book, but I was thinking about checking out a Shel Silverstein book instead. Thanks.” (What a nice kid.)

Mabel also would lean over kids’ shoulders and in a voice “like a constipated goat person” would say, “That’s a really good book! You should keep reading it!”

Also, Mabel kept making eye contact with a boy. Then she went up to him and said, “It’s making me really uncomfortable how you keep staring at me and my friend.” She says, “And he was like, ‘You started it!’”

Afterward Judy said, “One of those girls is in my next class. Awkward!” (Judy puts up with a lot.)

And yesterday, at lunch, Mabel would go up to people and ask, “What day is it?”

They said, “The 2nd.”

“The 2nd of what?”

“The 2nd of May.”

“Heh! You guys are lying!”

“No, we’re not!” They tried to show her their phone to prove it was really the 2nd.

“No . . . you guys are lying!” She says, “And then I ran away and they were all really confused. And I just laughed.”

Mabel’s been harassing me while I’ve been trying to get her help to write this post. I said, “Are you having strong feelings about this?”

“I have strong feelings all the time!”

Henry, Isaac, Rose, Mabel, and Hazel. The photos in this post were all taken at the beautiful Thanksgiving Point Gardens in Lehi, Utah, where my children–particularly Mabel–seemed determined to make funny faces for every photo. Mabel’s just lucky I didn’t post the video of her acting as the “Stupidsaurus” character she invented–although if I do decide to post it, she deserves it.

The following is a story of how, if you are a meticulous, detail-oriented person who likes to stay on top of things, you probably shouldn’t have five children.

Three days ago, Hazel brought me a block that has a little bell hanging from it. The block goes with a set that includes blocks with holes in them and blocks with sloping grooves, for marbles to roll through. We’ve had the set since Ike was a toddler. The year we got it, Dean and I stayed up playing with it that Christmas Eve, building mazes for the marbles.

Look, a bullfrog! This has nothing to do with the story.

If positioned perfectly, the little bell should ring when a marble bumps it. Hazel told me the bell was broken, and I saw that the loop that holds the clapper had been bent open, and the clapper had come off. I’ve repaired that particular damage already once before on that bell, so I knew I could fix it with a pair of pliers. But I didn’t have pliers handy, so I told Hazel to put the block, bell, and clapper on the cutting table in my sewing room–the usual place where I have the kids dump things that I plan to repair.

Later that day we took the kids to the gardens at Thanksgiving Point for the Tulip Festival, and I saw Rose playing with a little metal doohicky, putting it in her mouth–and I realized it was the bell’s clapper, which she had found on my cutting table and carried off with her. I confiscated it and put it in a pocket of my purse where it wouldn’t be lost.

This morning I searched the pockets of my purse, found the clapper, reattached it, and gave the block back to Hazel to play with.

All that trouble, over one little broken bell. And these kinds of little breaks and losses happen all the time, every day.

Now ask me if I am on top of things. Broken bells? Yes–at least this time. Everything else–the big, major, important things in life? Not even close.

(If there was ever a Part 2, I don’t know what became of it.)

July 30th, 2010

Subject: See you in two weeks [written just before leaving]

Ha–I told Dean we’d tell the kids that we would be leaving at 3 PM just so
they wouldn’t nag us before that, but I hoped to leave closer to, say, 11.
But that was before I found out Dean stayed up until 4 AM uploading recorded
books to my iPod, which involved some learning for him (it’ll go faster next
time–maybe).  I also did make Dean go buy a Thule storage thing for the top
of our van at Costco so it would be easier to fit our jackets and beach toys
and stroller and all that (this after he said one more suitcase or duffle
wouldn’t fit and he started throwing things into grocery bags).  Buying the Thule thing
slowed us down maybe an hour and Dean doesn’t think having it will make much
difference, but I think it will be great.

I’m all sweaty from cleaning and packing.  It’s tempting to take another shower before we go, but I don’t think my family wants to wait another half hour, and I guess I
don’t really, either.

Anyway, off we go (headed to L.A. and then San Diego) and at least we
shouldn’t have any trouble getting to Las Vegas today, which was our plan
anyway unless we got on the road sooner.

—

August 8, 2010

Subject:  Notes from SeaWorld

At SeaWorld on Wednesday we attended all three of the main shows right in a row: the killer whales, the sea lions, and the dolphins.  We sat in the “soak zone” for the killer whale show and then didn’t reapply our sunscreen until after the dolphin show, so some of us got sunburned on our noses and foreheads.  It wasn’t too bad, though, and we seem to have all recovered already. We also forgot to put sunscreen in the parts of our hair, so the girls have been very tender-scalped when I comb their hair.  In the soak zone Dean and I figured the little kids were going to get wet no matter what, so we used them as human shields to stay somewhat dry ourselves.  Mabel loved getting soaked and the rest of the kids tolerated it, except for Hazel who thought it was a horrible, horrible thing to be hit with a big wave of salt water out of the blue.

The dolphin show was trying to be something like a Broadway or circus show and featured way too much human diving and acrobatics (we just wanted to see the whales and dolphins swim and dive and jump).  Mabel was highly critical of the anodyne story line and low production values.  The show features a girl who, we were told, dreams of swimming with the dolphins and flying with the birds, and gets her wish. She actually gets her wish in the first thirty seconds of the show, when she dives out the window of her poolside pink castle.  Then the show talks a whole lot about how you just have to dream and your dream will come true.  Afterward I said, “Yeah, all you have to do for your dream to come true, if your dream happens to be swimming with the dolphins, is to live right by an ocean where dolphins swim, and to jump out your window.”  Mabel latched onto my critique and has referred to it several times, reminding us how stupid that was.

Mabel was also disappointed we didn’t get seats in the soak zone for the dolphin show.

Dean wanted me to help him remember another nonsensical platitude from the end of the Atlantis ride.  A speaker blares out the words, “You have redeemed Atlantis.  The city will continue to thrive as long as humankind chooses to live in harmony with the ocean world.”  Dean’s response:  “You flatter me.”

The last time we were at SeaWorld, seven years ago when Mabel was three, we lost Mabel twice for several minutes each time, and one of those times Isaac ran off trying to help find her and we lost him, too.  Target stores sell cute kid-leashes that look like a stuffed-animal backpack, and we already owned one that looks like a bear (purchased to keep Rose reigned in on a trip to Zion’s Park a couple of years ago) but before this trip I had bought a second one that looks like a puppy.  The kids had tried them on at home and had fun with Mabel pretending to be a farmer guiding them as horses. When we got to SeaWorld Dean thought we would only need one leash for Henry, since Hazel would be in the stroller, but I wanted to put one on adventurous Rose, too.  There were plenty of times when we weren’t in dense crowds and we would unleash the kids, but when we did need the leashes, I was very glad to have them.  I would feel a tug on the leash and lose sight of the kid in a crowd, but know they were still there at the other end of the leash.  Near the end of the day a woman stopped me to ask where I bought the leashes.  She pointed to her toddler and said she’d lost him earlier that day.  I asked her how long he’d been lost, and she said, “It was probably only a few minutes, but it felt like hours.”  So, hooray for Dean and I spending a whole day at SeaWorld in peak season with five kids, and not losing a one of them even once.

I haven’t figured out how to style my hair so that it can survive humidity, but even if I had, the soaking at the beginning of the day would have undone it, so SeaWorld wasn’t very good for my vanity.  More than once I caught a glimpse of myself in a restroom mirror or reflected in aquarium glass and thought I was seeing some other red-faced, bedraggled middle-aged woman.

Near the end of the day when the lines for the rides were a little less long, Dean watched Henry and Hazel so I could take Ike, Rose, and Mabel on the Atlantis roller coaster.  Last year Mabel and Rose were about to go on a little-kid roller coaster in Park City, but Mabel chickened out and actually made them stop the ride so she could get off.  So Mabel was terrified of going on this larger coaster.  Dean told her she had to go on it. Ike doesn’t like roller coasters either, but Dean made Ike go, too.  In line Mabel said she really really didn’t want to, and did she have to?  I said, “Daddy says you do.”  She asked if I would pay her to go on the ride, and I said I’d give her a dollar–so Ike wanted a dollar, too.  Mabel said, “I”m shaking.  What if I need to throw up?”  “Then throw up.”  “What if I freak out?”  “Don’t freak out.”  I told her it would be scary but she’d be buckled in and secure, and she could close her eyes if she needed to.  I reminded her that she likes skiing, and told her that roller coasters are less scary than skiing because you don’t have to try to keep from falling down.  She kept telling me, “Wait, so you actually like roller coasters?” I’d say, “Yes, at least medium-sized ones,” and she’d say, “I just don’t think of you as someone that would like roller coasters.”

In the end I got Mabel talking about collectible Japanese erasers just to try to get her mind off her fear.  After a forty-minute wait, we finally we got to the front of the line.  Isaac sat by Rose and I sat by Mabel.  The coaster has two big downhill dips, and on the first one Rose shouted, “This is going to be awesome!”  (But Ike did say later that Rose closed her eyes a lot, and when she had a chance to ride with Dean again later, Rose was willing but a little less enthusiastic.)  When the ride was over, Mabel was laughing and ecstatic.  She said, “I can’t explain it, but it’s really funny and fun to be so scared.”

I’m stuck at home with an eye infection today, and since my day was already ruined I figured it was a perfect time to do boring mending. And while I’m at it, I thought I’d share the technique I used.

Lately my usual method of patching is to serge around the edge of the patch, cut a piece of fusible web the same size as the patch, steam it in place, and stitch around the edge. But since I was using a medium-weight piece of denim for the patch this time, I used a different technique, as well as some general patching ideas:

The easiest way to measure the size of your patch is to lay a clear ruler over the area to be mended. I make my patches wider and longer than the hole I’m covering, to prevent future holes. I also patch both knees even if only one has a hole, because if I don’t I’ll just end up patching the other leg the next week.

The cheapest way to buy fusible web is by the yard from a fabric store–most fabric stores keep it near the cutting table. They have different weights. I think I usually use a medium weight.

When I’ve cut off my kids jeans to make shorts, I always save the cut-off pieces to use for patching later. I do the same thing if a pair of jeans wears out enough to be thrown away–I salvage any unworn pieces before I throw the rest away. I can usually find a matching piece to use for a patch–although occasionally I’ve also used new denim from my fabric stash.

Since I was using a medium-weight fabric for the patch today, I used an applique technique to turn the edges of the patch under. This technique wouldn’t work well with heavy denim since the seam allowances would add too much bulk, so for heavier patches I still prefer to serge the edges. For this method, I cut a piece of fusible webbing the same size as the patch. Then I sewed it to the patch with a 1/4″ seam, right sides together. I trimmed the corners. Then I cut a slit in the webbing, and turned the patch right-side-out through the slit. This will leave the seam allowances enclosed.

Then I placed the patch web-side-down on the jeans and used an iron to heat the web and apply the patch.

I also always stitch around the edge of the patch because fusible can come undone in a hot dryer. My Bernina 1630 has directional stitching, so I use that feature to stitch around the patch. If you don’t have that feature, you can use a darning/free-motion quilting foot and lower the feed dogs on your machine (enabling you to sew in any direction) OR you can open up part of a side seam on the jeans leg. If you open up a seam, usually one side seam won’t be topstitched, so that one will be much easier to open than the topstitched side.

Henry likes the new patches, and I can’t say I exactly had fun, but at least I had the satisfaction of a job well-done.

Here’s a bonus photo: This is the outfit Hazel wore to the hardware store with Dean today. I took the photo after they got home, when she was tired and a little the worse for wear–but you can still get an idea of how stylish she was.

Do you ever ask yourself, “How my doin’ as a parent?” In the mist of life’s dulldrums, in the ebon-flow of parenting, parents can often lose hold of the reigns. In fact, now and days good parents are becoming a dying bread. But you don’t have to be one of the many parents suscombing to this rib tide! I will teach you how to find the gentile nature within you. Together we will up the anti, and soon you will be the best mommy (or daddy!) in the blog-sphere.

Having a duel income family can be a tough road to tow. But don’t let this high bar to hurtle make you give in too quickly to uncorroperative children! Children might not cow tow to your every whim, and they might do lots of things they’re not aloud to. In fact, to paint with a broad bunch, almost all children are errand and unkept! They have a one tract mind, no conscious, and all the styreo typical quarks of childhood.

You could get rejected thinking about kids’ doddling, their whinning, and all the other tell-tail signs of youth. In fact, it bottles the mind. But remember you will never get any koodos for giving up! You are your kids’ Commander and Chief. Start by re-inforcing their good behaviors, and make bad choices less excessible.

Don’t let your daughters show their mid-drifts. Don’t make idol threats! When your kids test your metal, don’t back-paddle. If you let the vagrancies of the moment change your mind, your kids will right you off, and it will get harder and harder to make amens.

Well, I think by now you should have the jest of it. When things go array, if you stay compoised, parenting can be a wounderful experience. And you’ll be able to give yourself a pad on the back and say, “At a boy!”

Answer key:

you’re perogative (your prerogative)
point-black (point blank)
insolate (insolent)
how my doin’? (How’m I doin’?)
in the mist of (midst)
dulldrums (doldrums)
ebon-flow (ebb and flow)
the reigns (reins)
now and days (nowadays)
a dying bread (breed)
suscombing (succumbing)
rib tide (rip tide)
gentile nature (gentle, genteel)
up the anti (ante)
blog-sphere (blogosphere)
duel income family (dual)
a tough road to tow (row to hoe? road to toe?)
bar to hurtle (hurdle)
uncorroperative (uncooperative)
cow tow (kowtow)
aloud (allowed)
paint with a broad bunch (brush)
errand (errant)
unkept (unkempt)
one tract mind (one track mind)
conscious (conscience)
styreo typical airhead (stereotypical)
quarks (quirks)
rejected (dejected)
doddling (dawdling)
whinning (whining)
tell-tail (tell-tale)
bottles the mind (boggles)
koodos (kudos)
Commander and Chief (commander-in-chief)
re-inforcing (reinforcing)
excessible (accessible)
mid-drifts (midriffs)
idol threats (idle)
test your metal (mettle)
back-paddle (backpedal)
vagrancies of the moment (vagaries)
right you off (write)
make amens (amends)
the jest of it (gist)
things go array (awry)
stay compoised (composed)
wounderful (wonderful)
give yourself a pad on the back (pat)
At a boy! (attaboy)

I know this is by far not the first time I’ve said this, but: I really don’t want to let this little blog die its natural death. I just need to figure out how to migrate everything I post on Facebook to here, or make the habit of duplicating everything there and here. And I need to back up this blog and its more-than-a-thousand posts. (So, basically there are three daunting-to-me tasks standing between this blog and its full resurrection.)

But since this story is just a little too long for Facebook, it gives me the impetus for a little blog-resuscitation. So at least it won’t flat-line.

—

Sometimes a lighthearted dinner conversation unexpectedly turns heavy. At Rose’s and Henry’s school they’ve been doing various safety drills this week, and tonight 9-year-old Rose told me, “Mrs. West told us something today that made some of the kids in our class cry. She said that we’re like her children at school, and she would die from a gun to protect us. When she said that, it made some of the kids, like Kaleb and Lindsay, cry.”

I said, “That makes me get tears in my eyes, too, because I know she really would do that to protect you.”

Rose asked, “Would you die to protect us, too?”

“Yes, I would. But I hope I would never have to, because I want to stay alive to take care of you.”

“At recess I was talking with Kaleb and Lindsay and we were saying how we love Mrs. West so much, and she’s such a good teacher, that we would want to protect her. I said I would die from a gun to protect her.”

“I’m glad you love her so much that you would be willing to do that. But it’s the job of grown-ups to protect children, so if she had to protect you, you should let her. And then when you’re a grown-up, you can protect children.”

Henry said, “So if there are children around when we grow up, we should protect them?”

I said, “Yes. Like, Rose might have kids around if she becomes a schoolteacher, or if she becomes a mom.”

Henry said, “But if you’re a teacher you’ll have lots of kids around, more than if you’re a mom, so it would be harder to protect them.”

Rose thought for a moment. “Well, I want to be an engineer. And . . . I might want to live alone.”

Rose’s birthday fell on St. Patrick’s Day this year

I think I’m coming down with something (drat) since I’ve been very tired this afternoon, and my throat feels scratchy. So Dean, BLESS HIM! took Mabel and her friend to a thrift store to assemble costumes for the scene they’ll be acting out for History Fair, with the topic of women working during World War 2.

They were at the thrift store for about two hours (and our Rosie the non-riveter, who had wanted to come along, became excruciatingly bored and regretted it) and Dean says it took a lot of patience–but the girls are happy with the results. And I did make a little contribution, as the hairstylist for this test run. (Bonus! Mabel says this can be her Halloween costume this year, too.)

She’ll be four in a couple of weeks. I’m super-impressed at how well she managed.

Mabel was just pointing out to me that it’s always night when we finish a craft–and I always want to post it on my blog right away, so the photos are always dark. This is so true. Just possibly I will try to replace these with better photos in the morning, but more likely I will just move on to the next thing and forget about it. (The nice thing about not having a “monetized” blog is I can be sloppy and lazy and no one cares.) (Update: I did take  a couple more photos in the morning. But it’s winter and the photos are still kind of dark.)

Mabel got the idea for butterfly-lollipop valentines from the internet. We added our own twist by making the butterfly wings out of hearts punched from scrap-booking paper. (The punch we used made 16 hearts from one 12″x12″ sheet.) We lapped the points of the hearts and glued them, taped the lollipop onto the back, and then made a crease at the center so the wings would stand up a bit. Rose signed her name on the back. (The wise teachers at our elementary school gave us the tip to not bother writing recipients’ names on valentines, which makes it quicker and simpler for the kids to pass the valentines out.)

Henry wanted Paper Mario cards, and Mabel designed this card for him. If anyone wants a copy of the document, which fits 4 cards on an 8.5×11 sheet, leave a comment and I’ll email you a copy. (I’ll even change the name on it for you.) It’s in MS Word 2010, but I could probably convert it to an older Word format.