On the suffering of urchins and amphibians

Frog update:

Simon kept the frog inside for 5 days and helped it to various amounts of over-affection, intense jumping practice and dried crickets (you have those on hand, right?). Darwin AKA Bob the 2nd finally got to meet Mark and the next day I was ready to send the little amphibian on his way. It was a combination of him getting accidentally lost behind my computer when I was already irritated by something and the constant worry that we were somehow torturing him. Simon returned him to his natal stump and came back in with big crocodile tears. Frog tears. So I held him on my lap and thought about how life is hard. Poor bud. That was 4 days ago. But get this! This is a merciful frog! A frog worthy of the name Jean Valjean! Twice Simon has come in from the backyard and reported: "I just saw my frog. He came up out of the stump and I talked to him and held him for a while." Or, "I went to my frog's hole in the stump and he wasn't there, so I poured water on it and he came out!" Isn't that unbelievable!? A little amphibian the size of your thumbnail and he hasn't _________ (run away, died, been eaten, learned not to show up when he hears Simon coming). Now, a note on Simon's behalf--he is a very conscientious frogkeeper--there isn't a bit of malice in his keeping of the frog. He just adores it and always wants to be holding it or following it as it jumps around the garage (while I think "How is that frog JUMPING like that after four days of captivity and no food?!), letting it watch t.v. or figuring out how to get the right thing to feed it (flies? another cricket!? a fruit fly? "wait, the wing of a mosquito I have in my bed!"). Some evidence of his tenderness: On the first two days that Bob Darwin the 2nd was returned to the wild he was "hunting for food" AWOL and so Simon caught rollypollys in his absence and loved them and let them climb over his arms for hours and talked endlessly about them. He's 2 for 2 loosing them on the couch though, so they are EXPRESSLY forbidden to come in any more. (Not like I didn't tell him not to bring them in in the first place.)

Anyway, did you follow my reference to Jean Valjean? I have been reading Les Miserables for 4 months and last night Mark and I got to go to the spectacular show. Will you please read that book???!!!!! Thank you. It was fabulous. Thanks to Heather and Derek (THANKS!!!!!!!!!!) we were able to go enjoy 5 hours of being dressed-up, kid-less, out-in-the-evening seeing fine arts, city lights, and the bringing to life of some of the best literary philosophy on humanity ever realized. If you have only ever heard the music (which is splendid), will you please now go read the book? Thanks.

I love Mark. wooo wooooo!

Ten years ago at this time we were at BYU and I asked Mark to the Preference dance (possibly the most adrenaline-filled three minutes of my life were those where I got up the guts to ask him. by writing it on a potato chip and handing it to him of course.) Anyway, that's another story, but the night of the dance was magical. We went to SLC to a dance at a gallery and afterwards held hands for the first time walking the (too) few blocks to the car. So now, being gussied up for an evening in a big city with all the lights and skyscrapers (including a reallyreally handsome one named Mark) always brings back that memory for me.

Man, I could a write pages on those two nights. But for now, adieu!

Mary Tessa Joyce Nolte is one!

The traditional squat-upon-the-gifts.

She was 100% pleased. What a pleasant girl to gift.

Probably the best investment was the balloon. Please excuse the headless, disheveled mother who posts this out of love for her child's love.

And . . . . . . . the Cake Montage:
the approach


first impact



gingerly acquainting herself with frosting
applying frosting streaks to tray. nice consistency that stuff has.

Timber!

Yet more proof that the kids only eat/like the frosting and the ice cream. I *had* to eat her cupcake for her. Even though the family (or mom) was frantically trying to get dad off to puerto rico and she had to have storebought easter cupcakes (gasp.) she DID get to have dear, sweet, strawberry BlueBell ice cream.

(She really can't pull off the saying on that bib.)

And, she can dance:

I really adore this girl. She has been my angel through the hard times of diagnosis and recovery. When I was recuperating from my cancer surgery spending days in bed with her at my side I told my mom that everyone who's healing should get to have a baby with them. This was her time to come and bring peace and I can sense she'll continue to do so for our family. Really, the girl so nice, we named her twice.

Oh, I forgot two important things she did on her birthday (besides getting her finger pricked at WIC). She learned from Simon during dinner how to talk with her nose plugged. Pretty hilarious. She spent the evening dive-bombing my stomach and blowing snoofs on it. Have you heard her giggle? It's heaven.

Ode to Boy

Simon caught his first frog today. He was taking out the trash and came bursting in a few minutes later with a milk jug and a "Mom, there's a frog!" I expected that by now it had gotten away or he had only watched it. But no, today is his day. The day he officially becomes a boy. A non-chalant "it was really wiggly and I had to hurry and stick it in this milk jug and stick the lid on" frog-catching Boy. I like boys.

On that note, an explanation why you're not getting Mary Tessa's birthday celebration post. It's bee-caaause: Mark was here for that and he's my number one audience and he's on an island somewhere and I miss him and wanted to show him this. Consider it a frog-themed love note; we're like that.

More Mary Tessa tomorrow. What a charming fabulous little girl.

Nurturers

Monkeys were well-loved on our Sunday walk yesterday. Simon's is slung in a sling my mom made and wore in the 70s. He's going to be a real sensitive catch some day.

And how do I pack my offsprings around lately, do you ask?

BMW (big mormon wagon) goes green.

I had my first ride today with Mary Tessa in the seat behind mine and Simon and Alli in the brand new trailer (Thanks Grandma and Grandpa and Nanna and Papa for making that happen for Mary's and my birthday!!!!). Sure beats the stairmaster and it wasn't nearly as hard as I feared it would be. Simon didn't like other bikers passing us (we're the equivalent of a minivan, so give up your Lightning McQueen dreams, bud!). Mark thinks I'd be good with a rickshaw. :)



Mary's body has been desperately trying to give her four top teeth in time for her birthday this week. It's shameful to turn one with only two bottom teeth. Here she is on St. Patty's:
And here she is today. Getting pretty jack-o-lantern-y and not any easier to photograph. This part's just for the grandmas.

City-slickers

We went to the Rodeo last week. As the 4th largest U.S. city, are we the largest to host a rodeo? I saw a woman wearing a cowboy hat on top of an Islamic headscarf. Themes: Culture, carnies, and c-uestioning carnivorism.



The kids got to help produce go from seed to market. Allianna's selling her peaches for $1 and shortly after bought a juice box. Tess thought the juice was pretty tasty too.

Mark and I aren't into that health-food, fresh-from-the-farm stuff. We wanted something of questionable origin fried up in a metal stand. We've now tried Fried Oreos. I'll go back to a funnel cake next time.

Allianna after the fried oreos.

Actually, no, this is because her chosen carnival ride suddenly wasn't working. Drama. Despondency.

After twenty minutes, it was working again. I think that's the recommended time to wait after having fried oreos anyway. I'm always game for a version of the tilt-o-whirl. Mark meanwhile, can't stand twirling around on his own two feet.

Getchyou next year Tess.

A story about the tilt-o-whirl: We only had enough tickets left to go on this ride. The lady operating it was having the worst time. She had to keep it running 3x too long for the people before us because her husband had gone to get a soda and taken the key to the doors to let people out of their dragons. So people were getting irate, queasy, and she was flustered and Mark noticed she loaded kids on without shutting their door and started the ride and a little kid was about to tumble out. He told her and she quickly hit the RED emergency stop button. And then let me on for free. So then, we had enough for the kids to go on this car ride. Poor lady. Hard life. I can hardly stand an hour of carnival, much less a whole lifetime.

Deja vu at the pig races.

There is an area called the Birthing Center. Initially, I was fascinated and thought this fit with my passion for and hobby of learning about childbirth. As I watched a cow labor for 20 minutes (with a crowd of 75 other people) I began to get really uncomfortable. Here she was, in an enormous very LOUD arena, surrounded on three sides by hordes of people staring at her and with bright flourescent lights above her. It felt very wrong and I decided to make a personal statement by walking away from it. What horrible conditions to labor under (right, ladies?)!!!!!

I wasn't relieved by where I went to next. It was sow solitary confinement. Here 500 pound sows are made to lay on metal racks on their sides for 2 days before birth, DURING LABOR, and for 2 weeks after. There are bars right next to them on either side, so they can't move. Mark approached the pig rancher (?) with our questions and she said they were placed like that so they wouldn't roll over and crush their piglets (A bit odd, seeing as we've breed them to be 500 lbs!). It's been a week and we're both still really disturbed by it. It just feels like there has to be a more respectful way to care for animals (even if we plan to consume them). The mentality of "they're just a dumb animal who doesn't mind and it would be more trouble to do it any other way" just seems too pervasive. After watching sheep prepare for the show arena and have their walk corrected by a jab in the anus, I'm not sure that we'll be going back to the rodeo. And we didn't even see a thing that goes on inside the big arena with the bull-riding and such.

Mark Says: What would happen if the public learned, for example, that panda bears were kept in 2 by 4 foot metal pens before and after birth for 3 weeks total?! It would be the only thing everyone talked about! It would be on the radio. There would be legislation. But for cows? Pigs? Chickens? I'm not sure what I am saying, but it has made me think a little bit more about how much livestock I need consume, or at least which producers I buy from. I understand that California has some pretty humane animal husbandry rules and that you can choose at the grocery store which kind of meat and poultry to consume. Having said all this I am a total hypocrite because I ate at Red Robin tonight! Perhaps I won't be a hypocrite if I don't eat anymore beef for seven days or something like that. Anyway, just thinking ... Emily, by the way, had a garden burger.

Finally, a simple, enjoyable dancing video:

symmetry in our pseudo-cloister

3 year old fashionista

"There was a Little Girl Who had a Little Curl"--Revisited

This is what happens when a stylish 3 year old manages to slip a hot pink giraffe stamper in bed with her.

(Mark put her to bed that night.)

She went to church like this, with a handknit lilac scarf tied around her waist. She's got a gift.

I have to admit that though I never would have let her do this, I actually kind of like it.

"but when she was bad, she was rotten."

This morning, however, when she came out having used it as lipstick (all the way up to her nose and all over her tongue) and hot pink fingers--looking like the poster child for watermelon jollyranchers--I marched her back into her bedroom to get that stamper and throw it away!

It was even more funny because when she wakes up, she just slunks out of her room and silently lurks in the hallway, with her face all contorted like she doesn't want to be noticed. Then we realize a few minutes later that she's appeared and we're being watched--except this morning she looks as flamboyant as a flamingo and she's still acting incognito.

a few foodie items

• Mary Tessa learned how to sign "more . . . cheese" today.

With that, I really feel like I've given her the life skills to succeed. I was a bit behind teaching her to communicate, but we started with "more" a few weeks ago. It took some getting the hang of. But, "cheese"?! I showed her once and she looked at me like it was a godsend. Her eyes said "you mean there's a symbol for that glorious stuff?! an abstract representation that conveys from one human to the next a meaning--and that meaning is CHEESE?!" Within minutes she was gleefully doing the twisty palms like a champ.


*note: Mary Tessa is not actually pictured here. this gal's pretty cute and she'll do at 11:36pm when the Tess has better things to do.

• Next, a yogurt question:

Is it just because Houston is nearly tropical that I'm experiencing a cornucopia of new flavors like: blackberry pomegranate, cherry dragonfruit (in smoothie form, for the younger set)blueberry acai, and cherry pomegranate? Add these to the passion fruit and guava and mango that I've been enjoying for some time now. JOY! Are you seeing them too? And these are even mainstream brands like Yoplait and Dannon--I'm not even talking random Co-op products!
***though you know I have nothing against random co-op products.

• Finally, I'm thinking a lot lately about consuming less energy. Not calories (though that would be good), but electricity and the like, because of this National Geographic article Mark started me on. Walking more, unplugging things, using wind. Let's talk.

Taking one for the team.

I know you've all been dying to know how Mary Tessa and I faired. Fared? (Mom, a little help here.)

Mark was a true gentlemen and took Tess' and my turn for us. Sick for 6 days (what's that times 24, something like 6,249?).

So two I.V. fluid infusions (for dehydration) and one "6,249 hour" Flu later, he's almost back to normal. I missed him.

He says he wasn't even ever this sick in Brasil.

I haven't cooked for 7 days though. Except for rice. And toast. And bananas. and applesauce. Minimalist living, that's what we're about around here. I think the kids liked the menu (want Ramen? sure. hotdog? some few sundry peas? Some rice and peas. Some leftover canned soup. a 3-year old's dream restaurant.)

And a final note, to get Mark just a bit more sympathy. You may have noticed that I didn't cook for 7 days, but he was sick for 6. He had an enormous shrimp and sushi dinner at work the night this all commenced. Even the word "shrimp" gives him the shivers. Imagine if I was to google up a picture of shrimp and post it here. t'would be torturous!

okay, this post is dissolving. i must've spent too much time in the sun today. but Mark finally has an appetite and he's on his way home, so i've got to dash and make a splendid spread. i like cooking. welcome back bon appetit!

whatcha gonna do when they come for you

hello. it's possible that i may not have control of my digestive system within the next 24 hours. bad boy viruses are making the rounds among us, so i leave you with this to ponder in my (possible) absence:

things that happened today that are pretty significant:

> Simon's first tooth fell out. little bottom one. while we were in the car. we'd been waiting all week. he hasn't been eating because of it for 2 days (or is that because of the entertainment his stomach's going to bring us tonight . . . we shall see). luckily, he has a few engagements for it tomorrow (mainly to show a kooky substitute teacher and of course select classmates) so the tooth fairy has a chance to get her self in order and get a few paper bills in her possession. or one paper bill. he was muttering something in the car about "now i get TWO DOLLARS for every tooth!" and i'm sure i never committed to that. sure is a cute little tooth in a dish on my counter, though.

>while i was doing my late-night quite-by-myself dishes (being the only one in good health who doesn't wear diapers), A plastic baby SPOON JUMPED OUT OF THE DISPOSAL. it went seriously a foot and a half in the air above the sink. be still my heart. i found joy in this.

>i found out that while i seek the comfort of a fellow human when i've got to . . . ahem . . . throw-up . . . mark is quite the opposite. he meekly growls "go away" and i don't have to feel guilty going back to bed and to sleep. he still recalls with shock how when we'd only been married a few months i called him to our tiny moldy bathroom to witness me being attacked from all sides by my digestive system. he was very sweet though and didn't even tell me he was shocked until a few years later. washing out the tub multiple times for me--now that's love. i'm going to go make him some green jello.

things i need to do before i'm nauseated:

>start washing a massive pail of poopy cloth diapers. i don't want to have to think about explaining how to do it while sick. ain't nobody happy if healthy momma doesn't take care of this now.

>finish the book for bookclub that started 3 hours ago

>plan a basket worth $100-150 for simon's school auction. i have utterly no interest in doing this. surely soliciting donations and decorating a basket with a cutesy theme would be some other parent's dream. fellow room mom, where are you? i thought room parenting was cupcakes and cheap construction paper creations.

>eat a carribean smoothie bar that i bought for the sickies but they all went to bed without partaking.

>overcome my fear of toads and stray houstonians and take out the trash

>confession: i don't recycle when there's illness like this going on. "hypocrite. Earth's fair weather friend." go ahead and say it.

>sleep. i don't know if i'm invited to a 3am toilet party or not. alli had one on monday (3am). mark's was on thursday (4am). and simon's feverish little body seemed to have it's heart set on something tonight.

i feel fine.

Backyard loveliness

Every time Allianna goes out back, she comes back bearing a bouquet for me:

And, in other backyard news (besides that it's 81 degrees there right now), our neighbor behind us has begun constructing this lovely fence:

which is a significant improvement over the view of all their backyard items. Lovely.

And finally, an installment of "things that make me go *&^%$#@!#$%^!!!!"

I shut my finger in the door today. Really hard. It's indigo. Made me sob and confess to Mark that "Pain that is not productive is so stupid!" Even though we don't use the word "stupid" around here. We also don't use the words I used about ten minutes before that.

Bipedalism!

TP diva

She's really got to stop being cute about this!

deja vu

I'd been forgetting to enjoy the comfort of having toilet paper installed on the holders in our bathrooms. Until another TP monster came along this morning:



I only take pictures of the first offense.

feeling like a fifth-grader, wanting to memorize!

Praise Song for the Day

by Elizabeth Alexander

A Poem for Barack Obama's Presidential Inauguration

Each day we go about our business,
walking past each other, catching each other's
eyes or not, about to speak or speaking.

All about us is noise. All about us is
noise and bramble, thorn and din, each
one of our ancestors on our tongues.

Someone is stitching up a hem, darning
a hole in a uniform, patching a tire,
repairing the things in need of repair.

Someone is trying to make music somewhere,
with a pair of wooden spoons on an oil drum,
with cello, boom box, harmonica, voice.

A woman and her son wait for the bus.
A farmer considers the changing sky.
A teacher says, Take out your pencils. Begin.

We encounter each other in words, words
spiny or smooth, whispered or declaimed,
words to consider, reconsider.

We cross dirt roads and highways that mark
the will of some one and then others, who said
I need to see what's on the other side.

I know there's something better down the road.
We need to find a place where we are safe.
We walk into that which we cannot yet see.

Say it plain: that many have died for this day.
Sing the names of the dead who brought us here,
who laid the train tracks, raised the bridges,

picked the cotton and the lettuce, built
brick by brick the glittering edifices
they would then keep clean and work inside of.

Praise song for struggle, praise song for the day.
Praise song for every hand-lettered sign,
the figuring-it-out at kitchen tables.

Some live by love thy neighbor as thyself,
others by first do no harm or take no more
than you need. What if the mightiest word is love?

Love beyond marital, filial, national,
love that casts a widening pool of light,
love with no need to pre-empt grievance.

In today's sharp sparkle, this winter air,
any thing can be made, any sentence begun.
On the brink, on the brim, on the cusp,

praise song for walking forward in that light.



and, if I could say it with her voice inflections, . . . nice.