Simon's school of lizardry

Simon is so intent on tracking lizards that he's become despondent over all the following in the last 72 hours, purely because they interfere: having to go to church in the morning (morning being when lizards are slowest), having to go to bed (he wants to be free to slip outside at any opportunity), or having anything scheduled during the day.

However, he attended his Sunday meetings and was rewarded with this prize shortly after:

A baby gecko.

Poor buddy dropped its tail over the new friendship with Simon, so we had a little conversation about observing and not always catching, and "what would it feel like if you had to choose between dying or losing a leg? Is it different than just loosing a fingernail?" (Pretty good reasoning of mine, if I do say so myself. Did you know a gecko's tail keeps twitching as a decoy for a lot longer than you'd think?)

Simon even mowed down by hand a huge patch of grass near the garden that's been growing out of control and out of the mower's reach--all because he was sure a green anole was still hiding there. Tenacious. Dedicated. Amazingly observant. Those are the qualities you'll come away with if you study at his school.

Mary Tessa's found an apprenticeship as First Tomboy. She's not afraid to get right down there in the leaf litter.

Lest you think it's only lizardry you'll come away with, Simon discovered this outside before I was even awake today. Happily Mark was still here to throw around words like "ovipositor" and "stick bug" and "male/female dimorphism."

"This" is actually "these"--a couple of stick bugs . . . ahem. The male is much smaller (the dark brown section at the bottom).

So you can probably already tell, but I think this is a great way to experience childhood. Keep it up, my boy!




Keeping us well-rounded was our attendance at the library's fairytale event. Books, fancy dresses, and small sandwiches.




We like culture and we like dirt.

All-American bike parade!

Happy 4th of July!!!

Cute as a button.

Thanks Lindsay, mother of boys, for these adorable button and bow hairthings!!!!!!!

We've been enjoying their cuteness for a few weeks and have just been waiting for the right photo-op for a digital thank you! Allianna couldn't wait til this Saturday to wear the Americana one, the Hello Kitty ones are a delight of course, and I personally love the funkiness of the button colors that Mary Tessa's styling. happy happy happy! Thanks again!

Also, in other news of cuteness:

Allianna wrote her Sunbeam teacher (from church) a lengthy letter or "email" each day this week and then handed her a fat envelope of love on Sunday. I don't think Sister Seeley has any idea of the level of adoration. She sure deserves it though--she goes to such wonderful lengths to make her kids comfortable and happy.

Since we're using cliches today, I present "Snug as a Bug," under a blanket, in a fort.

Finally, the cutest of them all: Simon's first lizard. Captured by his able hands, held captive and loved for a day and a half, and named Bob, Jr. (though I was personally pushing for Nolen the Anole).

After Bob had been in the cage all day, Simon picked him up and got bit. A few minutes (and tears) later Simon came back by the cage and said, "You bit me, but I didn't die!" Heckler. Later, he said he forgave Jr. for biting and said it didn't really hurt and he wouldn't mind if he bit him again. Accepting the responsibilities of lizard keepership--that's my boy.

The Waiting Place

Last week we brought "Oh the Places You'll Go" home from the library. Somehow I never read it before, and it turns out it was a timely read for me.

Today I was entrapped in the waiting place.

Took Mary Tessa in at 10a.m. for a real normal "she's been coughing now for three weeks and got a fever yesterday" doctor's visit. The good Dr. quickly noted that she had a double ear infection. Then I had to open my big mouth and mention that she swallowed part of a lollipop wrapper last week while we were plodding through grocery store purgatory. (Side note: I used to really like grocery shopping. Now people swallow wrappers and whine and have to go poo when we are 75% done and on the other side of the store.)

With that fool statement, I got myself sent with Mary to the Children's Hospital emergency for chest x-rays and etcetera. Lucky for me, Mark works a building away and could take the big kids off my hands and to a WIC appointment (hah ha!).
Not lucky for me: 1. I left the Dr's order on the passenger seat. 2. the good dr. didn't exactly tell me where to report to. 3. i waited in the wrong place from noon to 4:30***. ***lots of extraneous details omitted here. 4. got admitted to the actual e.r. or was it the e.c.? i'm still not really sure 5. sometime between 4:30 and 9:45pm Mary Tessa received a second x-ray which took about half an hour. the rest of the time? you guessed it! waiting. 6. sometime around 7pm i started to get that cartrip feeling. you know the one. where you feel like you've been eating lots of fruitsnacks and trailmix and chips and SITTING and you almost feel like you really have to go to the bathroom, but not quite because you've been sitting for soooo long. 7. around 7:30 mary accidentally pushes the BIG RED/ CALL NURSE button. it beeps for over 45 minutes with no response. during this time i also somehow get our sliding glass room door stuck. TRAPPED. nurses obviously don't care that our "distress" button is beeping. (happily, this psychosis-inducing turn of fates happens after our bathroom trip)

I SPENT ELEVEN HOURS WAITING WITH A (ANGELIC) TODDLER IN SMALL, GERMY? PLACES!!!

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I learned:

Mary is truly an angel baby. She only had a meltdown after 7 hours, and that was because she hadn't hardly napped, nursed, or eaten (didn't know if we were going to be sedated, you see.)

It's neat to find $3 dollars on the floor.

The Children's Hospital must subsidize fruit snacks, because they were only 35 cents. I think that's nice.

Keep your mouth shut about swallowed things. Just take your antibiotic prescription and run. But maybe not to Walgreens. It's 11:35pm and we're still waiting for the stuff.


Unbelievable.





But she's totally okay. No pneumonia, no "foreign body".

Please vote for universal health care. I saw people in distress today.

Oh, the places . . .

. . .. perhaps tomorrow I'll go to the grocery store. I hear we've been out of milk, cheese and bread for a few days now.

spanked them all soundly and sent them to bed

There was an old woman
Who lived in a shoe,
She had so many children
She knew not what to do.
So she gave them some broth*
Without any bread*,
And whipped them all soundly,
And sent them to bed.

*pancakes, vegetables

I never used to get this poem. The sound spanking seemed so out of nowhere.

But it was really after 7 straight hours of repeating over and over to people who don't listen: "stopitLEAVETHEBABYALONEnoyoucan'twatchtv

LETTHEBABYPLAYWITHYOUpleasecleanupDON'TSTICKYOURBUMATPEOPLEpleasestopwhiningGETOUTOFMYKITCHENIFYOU'RECRYINGcleanup!NOICAN'TPLAYWITHYOU" which had gone almost completely unheeded. guuuh!

so, one looks at her tornadoed house and decides that since, under no conditions is she going to take this brood to the grocery store even though the fridge is bare, it will be a "pancakes and to bed by 6:30" plan of attack.

course, after our sugarcharged dinner we're all feeling much better. except for the house. the children are gleefully marching around in a parade. for now. no. wait. one's having a meltdown. time for the takedown.

so i guess i'm just writing this to capture my "a-hah." To capture my understanding that--even though there was plenty of tattling and whining on my leg--I probably missed quite a few misdeeds and got very little response to the ones I tried to negotiate/referee. So "spank them all soundly and send them to bed" should pretty much cover it.

Oh, and Tess learned to climb up on the table today.

Don't worry, I rebound quickly. I'm feeling better now. The ones who can talk back are all out of earshot playing some secret game. Mary just climbed up on a stool next to me and whacked me five times on the head. And almost fell off . . .

Hammerhead Snake!

Again, for your reading pleasure, I welcome guest blogger Mark:


I returned home today around 8:20 pm. Emily and the kids arrived around 9 pm. I had just finished my second bowl of dinner -- Emily had kindly left something for me on the stove. In my post-long-day, post-two-bowls-of-dinner vegetative state I decided to recline on the couch and for a few moments do, well, nothing. I am glad that I looked unoccupied because Simon immediately seized the opportunity to sit by me … practically on me, actually. Since we hadn’t talked all day Simon was pretty happy as usual to catch me up on the day’s events. Emily had taken the kids to, as Allianna calls it, "Snake School" at the local library. A woman and her daughter brought all types of rescued snakes for holding and facts for absorbing. On the heels of such a mind-expanding outing Simon was excited for me to greet our family’s new pet snake. He had made it out of green and orange construction paper. This was no ordinary reptile; indeed, as Simon explained to me, it was a new species: a hammerhead snake. I thought that was a pretty cool idea. Simon is very good at inventing new animals. At one end of a strip of green construction paper that served as the serpent’s body he had pasted an orange strip perpendicular to the body axis in hammer-like fashion.

Dad (D): Why did this particular snake evolve a hammer-like head?
Simon (S): Because when predators come from the sides it can kind of just hit them with its head.
D: Oh, so it’s for protection. What do hammerhead snakes eat?
S: Well, for half of the seasons they eat meat – they’re carnivores. And then for the other half of the seasons they eat just plants – like vegetarians. He just switched to eating plants yesterday so if we put him in the backyard all of the grass would be gone.
D: That’s interesting. Why do they have those eating habits?
S: I’m not sure. It sure is a good thing we have him for a pet so that we can study that, right? And see, right here, on its belly, if I rub it (he is rubbing near the tail) it causes him to go real fast – to slither! Dad, my snake is good at climbing trees too. It has these little bones on its stomach that poke out kind of like caterpillar legs so that it can hook onto trees. And you know what, if a copper snake saw my snake it would die. (The kids are a bit scared of copper snakes recently because we heard from a friend that a little boy picked one up at a park and was bitten).
D: Why does a copper snake die if it sees hammerhead snakes?
S: I don’t know, but if there was copper snake right there (pointing to the opposite side of the room) then BAM! It would just be dead.
D: Man, it sounds like your snake is pretty awesome … and interesting.
S: It also likes to swim. They can swim down to the bottom of the ocean.
D: How do they hold their breath that long?
S: They don’t need to because they have gills right here (pointing to the underside of the snake’s head). There is a piece of skin that covers up the gills so that water doesn’t get in. (Granted, the boy needs to learn a bit more about gill physiology, but the idea was still cool!) It can also be heavier and sink or lighter and fly. Its muscles fill up like this (moving his hands apart) to make it sink and shrink like this (moving his hands flat against each other) to fly.
D: Whoa. Does our pet snake have a name?
S: Um … Changer.
D: Changer?
S: Yes because it changes from being a carnivore to being a vegetarian.

Of course by this time I was convinced that our family had made a good investment in purchasing such a rare reptile.

D: How much did it cost?
S: No, I rescued it. I found it. You can touch these two scales that have scratches (touching two frays in the cut construction paper).

So there you go. I hope that that was as enjoyable for you as it was for me. There were actually a few more facts that Simon shared with me about hammerhead snakes that I didn’t jot down; my neurons can only record so much after a long day. Something about how they can fly fast enough to catch an SR-71 Blackbird. I love having Simon in our home – there’s always a scientist to talk to! Or should I say – there’s always an imaginist to talk to!

“Imagination is more important than knowledge. For knowledge is limited to all we now know and understand, while imagination embraces the entire world, and all there ever will be to know and understand.” ~ Albert Einstein

PS: Simon is sleeping with Changer on his pillow tonight.

Awesome music notating site!

I just found this completely awesome site. Never have to write down a part by hand again! Just click with your happy mouse and it will allow you to choose note lengths, add third endings, hear a real instrument play what you wrote as you go--just completely awesome. Here's my proof, the cello part for "Love is Spoken Here." Go, and use it today! And while we're at it, do you know about the Interactive Music Player?

Up with produce, down with caterpillars! Garden Update

One of my trusty laborers.

• We've consumed: basil, cilantro, and pinkynail-sized lettuce leaves (just couldn't wait on that one).
  


• Prospering are: zucchini (took two sowings), cucumbers, cantaloupe, Simon's Pre-K lima bean and tomatoes (x3).

• The "Sprouting Finally" Award goes to: bell peppers.

• Fading inexplicabley are: peas, carrots!?, and possibly rosemary.

• Being preyed upon by !@#$%^&*$^#-ed caterpillars with reckless abandon are the kids' sunflowers. I admit I've attached a lot of romantic notions to these sunflowers. I've wanted to grow dinner plate sized ones ever since my elementary school held a summer long sunflower contest and kids like Pat Byron came back in the fall with enormous sunflower heads in a paper bag which they then got to display to the entire student body. Thousands of beautiful striped black-and-white seeds. All different shapes and patterns! But I digress . . .

• Confessions: I've used Preen (organic--prevents weeds and other from making roots with some corn derivative), and Caterpillar Killer (not recognized by the State of California . . . you know what that means . . . but hey, before you call me a gardener without principles, I'd rather have some plants at the end of this--PESKY little grey things were even taking down the zucchini. The indomitable zucchini zucchinius! One of the WASTEFUL creatures lopped the top off of a sunflower sprout--killing it--and then left it there UNCONSUMED. not. to. be. tolerated.
  

So, what do you do for your rosemary and peas?

Just ducky.

On one of our rare trips to the big bad blue walmart we discovered there was a duck pond hidden nearby. So we went back another day to enjoy.

One for them . . .

. . . one for me. Luckily the bread wasn't moldy.

A few weekends ago I went to the temple and Mark and the kiddos planned to go check out a big park nearby. They lasted about 20 minutes before potty-breaks sequestered them to the visitor's center at the temple for the rest of the time. Here are the few pictures Mark took after he managed to wrangle them out of the car at the park (I hear people were honking at them--crazy.):

Happy Summer Days to you!

It's a Mars Rover.

I know you had lots of questions about what Simon was posing with in the last post. May all your questions be answered in the following 3 minute video companion to that photo.

But if you have questions remaining, by all means, that's why we have a comment section and a few resident scientists.*

*Mark assisted him on this last Sunday. whatta good dad. :)

Goldilocks and the three Hairs

There once was a wee fair maiden with curly hair. Her head was adorned with perfect blond curls at the ends of each lock, there from her babyhood.






But before we get to the rest of her story, it must be known that she was not the only hairy one in the land.





There was the great big boy bear, who's hair was too bushy:







And the wee small baby bear, who's hair was too . . . well,

. . . confuse-y?, messy?, blind-y?

But let's get back to the fair little girl. The middle-sized bear. The one who's hair was JUST RIGHT.

The one who told me yesterday that she wanted "Hailey Hanis hair." Just out of the blue, and not too adamantly. After I asked her about 15 times over the next twenty hours if she really wanted to cut her beautiful hair (see sidebar), I did it.

SOB.

I cried, cringed, and saved this lock for me. A little side story: after I made the first cut, I was wrapping it to preserve and Alli asked me what I was doing. I told her I was saving one of her beautiful curls and that it made me cry. She said, "Mom, can you make one for me to have too?" "Yes." As I took up the scissors she added, "Just don't cry this time, Mom."

So today the great big boy, the wee small baby, and the middle-sized girl all got chopped,

and they lived happily ever after.

I do like Alli's hair.

Epilogue: I don't think Alli will have curly hair anymore. I think our familial curliness is down to just Mary Tessa and me. And who knows how long that will last, judging from the wide-eyed curiousity with which Tess' observed this whole hair cutting process. Pray she and Alli keep away from the scissors, because Tess is in that fertile age window where she's learning words and abilities like crazy and she may just try her hand at it. And until now my dramatic little Alli has never known the possibilities for dramatic change a little scissoring can bring.

While we're on that topic, I applied a little scissoring to mahself the other week:

The End.

coming soon: our computer's been out this week. oh boy, do i have a lot to catch the ol' bloggie up on.

Ode to Rhubarb.

In response to my rhubarb queries, I have just been googling rhubarb images. None of these are my own images, but my heart is pounding and my mouth is salivating and I almost want to cry because I have no idea where any rhubarb is close around me. In real life.

I grew up ten feet away from the backyard rhubarb plant. Well, not always ten feet. I played in more than one spot in the yard. And it wasn't always in season. But my mom probably often had some frozen for those times.

The mere mention of the rhubarb after a long winter season without it is enough to make my dad blubber with excitement. I believe he used to chew on raw, unsweetened rhubarb stalks as a kid. I remember seeing my soon-to-be aunt getting laughed at in pity that she had made it to adulthood and never had rhubarb.

(strawberry rhubarb sauce)

That kind of dedication is on my mom's side--you better not marry in without feigning that you've been on the rhubarb wagon for a long time. Ask Mark. As for my dad's side, they brought rhubarb with them to Utah when they moved from Minnesota and transplanted it. Some of the aforementioned backyard stalk comes from that original rhubarb.

Did I mention one of my parents' cats is named Rhubarb?!

For the record

Now, here are a few things that I know now, and I want to remember:

1. I found out recently that my great-grandma Nora Amelia Taje was a midwife. She was born in Norway and attended births in South Dakota. Since I want to be a midwife, it was exciting to find out about this link--I would've liked to have known her and look forward to talking to her someday. In the meantime, I'm glad to know that midwifery's in my genes (spiritual ones too!).

2. My grandma Zelda Lorraine Taye had measles as a young teenager and never knew whether she'd be able to have children. Starting at 27-28 she was able to have four (my dad among them), never knowing if each would be the last. I admire her earnest desire for motherhood, which she expresses to this day, at age 93.

3. My mom adores having custard popovers with her rhubarb sauce! I talked to her tonight and she was so delighted about a night spent with the pair. :) Rhubarb is also in my genes. Ahhhh, yum.

My mom can also spell ANY word--just try her. Why don't you leave a comment with your favorite misspelling of a word in it? It will be like a little pop quiz fun for her. :)

4. I have a mothering trick. Maybe you know it too. But if not! I discovered with Simon that when I'm rocking him in my arms to sleep, he can't keep resisting if I let a little light track back and forth over his eyes. Like the light trickling through the window blinds or from the nightlight. Dark, light light, dark, light, dark . . . . can't. fight. sleep. I call it eye-tiring, which I learned about in childbirth class, but I've found more effective for babies. It works great on Tess too, but I honestly can't remember with Allianna (shame. I also can't remember her first word, but we all claim it to be "daddy"--perhaps I should check the blog archives).

5. I'm enjoying this post so much I have Bluebell ice cream melting all over my counter. woops. One flavor is Groom's Cake, a concept I only heard of this week--timing!

6. I'm back in the Sinfonietta as of tonight. I adore my husband. The sound of wooden instruments being brought into position, exposed viola melodies, cello/viola comraderie: these are a few of my favorite things. And having to figure out how fast to play a dotted eighth rhythm in a 4/4 measure conducted in 8 (that sentence is for you to decipher, Nancy. Shostakovich 5th.)

Please welcome guest blogger Mark:

Who, Who, Who knew it was my birthday? (please take note of the title of this post)

In April 2005, Elder Bednar of The Quorum of the Twelve Apostles said, "...I have reflected repeatedly upon the phrase 'the tender mercies of the Lord.' Through personal study, observation, pondering, and prayer, I believe I have come to better understand that the Lord’s tender mercies are the very personal and individualized blessings, strength, protection, assurances, guidance, loving-kindnesses, consolation, support, and spiritual gifts which we receive from and because of and through the Lord Jesus Christ." (emphasis added)

For my Birthday, God, with the help of Simon, gave me one cool tender mercy! We had just pulled into our driveway after satiating ourselves at Red Robin -- our go-to place for birthdays in Houston! Simon hopped out of the car and said, "Owl, Owl, Owl, DAD, Owl, Owl!" To be honest I kind of ignored him because I thought he was saying, "Ow, Ow, Ow ..." An often heard phrase around here as younglings tend to injure themselves in mostly harmless ways as they grow into their bodies. Simon: "No Dad, an owl! Up there. In the tree!" And sure enough, just 5-8 feet above my head was the well-marked, unmistakeable oval-like spectre my mind expects to see upon hearing the word "owl." But this one was so close -- I had never been that close to a wild owl! It was beautiful. If ever the words "silence"or "shadow" were permitted to take shape surely they would organize themselves into an owl.

Then Simon again: "Dad, another owl! A baby!" And of course, per Simon's observation, onto the trunk of a smaller palm tree-like plant in our front yard clung another owl, much younger, with gray down feathers and nascent ear tufts that actually seemed to break up its symmetric oval shape and camoflauge it against the branches and leaves. Like Emily said, the baby almost looked like a koala bear -- more mammal than bird. The hatchling (probably older?) was no more that 3-4 feet above the ground and let the kids and I get within a foot or two of it to look closely at its beak and claws. The mother (we assume) in the branch above my head calmly, almost inaudibly, called to the baby with what our Audobon book perfectly describes as "a tremulous descending wail." To Emily it sounded almost like the neighing of a miniature horse. I agreed.

Then, again, Emily: "Another one. The Dad." Above us, maybe twenty feet or so, another adult owl landed on a branch. And next to it another owl! The fourth owl was slightly older than the baby clinging to the tree below the mother. Four owls! This was better than a nature video -- our pictures prove it! We couldn't believe it. It had to be a tender mercy from a loving God. What are the chances that we would pull into our driveway right at that exact moment, when four owls decided to land within perfect viewing distance? It really was special. I am so glad Simon spotted them. What a great birthday gift -- there is nothing like viewing, appreciating, and reverencing nature. There's something calming about it. Those little owls go through so much. Where have they been? What do they eat? Why was the baby so near to the ground? (We went out later to make sure she had flown away or at least climbed back up into the safety of high branches ... she was no where to be found).

In case you are wondering: our crepuscular (love this word; look it up) visitors were Eastern Screech-Owls (yes, there is a hyphen), no more than 7-10 inches tall. Absolutely amazing. Oh, and I had to put Matt's Birthday Card on the blog too (please take note of the burning candle on the "king tyrant lizard's" rostrum)!

Good Morning Dude.

Mark usually comes home from teaching early-morning seminary to a sleeping house. But sometimes Allianna is awake. She never leaves her bedroom in her pajamas--it's always a fabulous self-designed outfit--like this morning's elaborate "Ode to E.T." which nearly scared the pants off of him.

P.S. Mark wishes I would wake up looking like this sometimes.

In other news, it's a double ear infection and first word for Tess. As we were laying there side by side on our backs in the guest bed that fateful night before slumber hit, she kept saying:

"hAAAAAAAAAA-ppy. haaaaaaa . . . py. HAAAAaaaa--ppy."

A 1:15 am Why?

So as I'm heading to bed a little before midnight, Tess wakes up all coughy and sad. After trying a few different things to get her back to sleep, I decide I'm going to sleep sitting up holding her so she can cough less. Mark has to get up in 5 hours for seminary, but he still helps me through the next 45 minutes of restless misery with a very tired baby and her bed-wetting sister. A little before 1am I remember that I have a some cough/decongestant I can give her--great!! While I'm changing bedsheets Mark holds Tess and she falls asleep. I come and take over, planning to spend the night with her in the guest bed.

Shortly after which SHE GOES BERSERK.

Drumming on the mattress, kicking wildly and gleefully, trying to JUMP off the bed. Bouncing bouncing bouncing.

Right now she's sitting on my lap hyperactively kicking her legs and giggling at the sound of the keys and blowing rasberries on my arms. And screeching and babbling AT THE TOP OF HER LUNGS.

Thanks Triaminic. You're a real lifesaver.



Is it wrong now for me to go sleep on the couch while my toddler wanders around all buzzed? Seems like it.


She's nuts! Absolutely kooky. And it's going to last her four hours!

Day of Rest

AKA "my daddy is my favorite pal-low"

"Pretend you've always wanted a monkey."

"Pretend you've always wanted a monkey."

That is how Allianna and Simon's new favorite game always begins. They've been at it every day for about a week and a half. Whenever I hear one of them say that, then I know that they're about to have 1-2hours of mutually joyous time taking turns being the owner and the monkey. It's a rare game that makes them both so happy for so long. And that they can each play to each other's satisfaction. Hooray for monkeys!

Also, Happy May Day. Allianna and I went and picked one pink gerbera daisy to celebrate. Thanks mom, for teaching me about May Day in Girl Scouts--I never like to let one pass by. :)