A Bloggable Day

Signs We Need Thomas and Priscilla Back from Their Aunt & Uncle's House

2010-04-28T18:32:00.000-07:00

Thomas and Priscilla have gone to help out with their little cousin Rhiannon, who has a brand-new baby sister, Rosalee! But Craig and Jenn are going to have to give them back this weekend. Things are getting desperate over here. A few signs:

1. Little Genevieve is having to take Thomas's place in sword battles. This just doesn't work quite as well. (Sometimes I fill in, too.)

2. Priscilla's talent at cake making is simply not matched by her mother's, as illustrated by Genevieve's great amusement in the picture to the right. I made a cake for her so Grandma Nauman could celebrate Vivi's birthday with us while she was here. (The littles had such fun with their grandma! And her presents to Genevieve are still being used daily.)

3. James is more and more resembling Commander Shepard from Mass Effect, slinging as big a toy gun as he can find onto his back and looking constantly but in vain for "bad guys." The boy is stretching out the necks of all his shirts, but his papa is secretly kinda proud of him, so we're letting it slide . . .
But really, the bottom line is that Glenn and I can't wait to see our big kids again.

Face Painting Part 2

2010-01-22T15:05:00.000-08:00

James was sick recently. Stomach flu sick. We had a strange feeling of deja vu at the restaurant we'd been treated to as we watched him raise his shirt and point to his tummy. "Hurts," he said, almost casually. Glenn and I looked at each other quizzically: why did that seem strangely familiar? Oh, yeah, he did the exact same thing last fall when he-- Too late. Up came his lunch. Always fun, doubly so in public forums. (My friend Lizzie is right: There is a desperate need for a sarcasm font.)

He recovered rather quickly, only to get sick again 3 days later. (Weird gap.) Then I confined him to his room for the day. He was clingy and sweet, and got better again. But he remained weak-willed for a few days, and I grew complacent about things like gating his door during nap.

That was a mistake. Two days after that, I came up from the basement, where I'd been having a good homeschool math session with Priscilla on the white board, to find that James had invaded the girls' room a good bit earlier and was still there. He'd gotten out tons of Priscilla's jewelry, awoken his little sister and supplied her with markers (which she was using in, on, and around her crib with great enthusiasm), and found a treasure for himself: face paint. Probably recalling the dog faces Priscilla had created (see earlier post), he decorated Genevieve and himself.

Oh, boy.

James is good at picking up phrases from us that he hears quite frequently. ("No t'anks, I good" when he's full, "Don' know what missing!" when we refuse food he offers us, etc.) I'm just waiting for the inevitable repeat of "You gonna drive me to drink."

Um, not really progress...

2010-01-09T13:07:00.000-08:00

To say that we are going very slowly down the road of toilet training would be a vast understatement. There seems to be an important cognitive link missing as to which end should be addressed to the task...

Learning Humility + Grace = Parenting

2010-01-08T22:48:00.000-08:00

Our "bigs" are visiting their aunt and uncle and are therefore supremely happy. Our "littles" thus have had all my focus during their waking hours this week, and it's been something.

First came Monday. We had an appointment at the WIC office, and for some reason these folks insist on having hours that correspond exactly with nap for most toddlers. We had also planned badly and been gone all morning, so Genevieve had slept for maybe 30 minutes and James for even less. So they were wound up. More than you think. A lot. I'd changed them in the parking lot and was dumb and didn't bring in my diaper stuff, thus they both had stinky diapers within the first 10 minutes. That didn't start them out as children you'd want to be around! Plus, there was a play area where they were expected to frolic unsupervised while I went into a separate office to register. By the time I came back out 5 or 10 minutes later, they had managed to spread out about a hundred pages' worth of pamphlets all over the room, and the other staff were "looking for me." Yet they were the ones who insisted the kids would be fine playing on their own! Maybe other kids are... There were other horrid parts of that visit that I will not elaborate on, but I was thoroughly feeling like a rotten mom by the end of it.

I don't know the answers. You'd think that by my second round of this parenting thing I'd have a clue what to do here, but I don't. There's been lots of prayer this week, though, and that's a good thing! I do remember telling the Lord I had no idea what to do next with the first ones (as I often do with later stages with them now, too), and that's my only parenting "secret": Know and admit your own inability and weakness. Ask Him for help. A lot. Then pick yourself up and go back to work with the little guys.

And then there are other things that have gone so much better. James had been appalled at the switch from a crib to a "big-James bed" this week (and begged pitifully for his crib the first night, and then slept on the hardwood floor in protest! - it was killing me!), but it has dwindled remarkably, and he has really been enjoying the relative freedom of naptime play in his room. Genevieve has been listening better and obeying the first time with not touching things and/or putting things back. We've been working on cleaning up areas, too.

Then, this morning, I went to the grocery store with the two littles, and James walked obediently by the cart, not touching anything or being anything but a model young citizen. And Genevieve rode contentedly in the cart. It was beautiful! I can look for differences like nap not being an issue and not having been out with them much the rest of the week and such, but those only explain so much, because there have certainly been other times when the circumstances were similar but behavior was awful.

I used to prepare for airline trips with little ones by telling myself, "I'm either going to be learning about grace or humility." Really, I need to continue learning both in all cases.

I can't explain my older two, who get hugely complimented on their behavior nowadays, except that God gave me training wheels, parenting-wise, and gave us circumstances and conditions that shaped them and us (like homeschooling, and wise friends with good kids to watch, and living in cramped quarters with people in their 90s). I can't explain my younger two, except that I know the Lord is showing me new things about children and myself and Him, and how I am as His child.

I am verbally compliant but in my heart I want to see what I can get away with and not really change. I think I can sneak things, when it's all laughably obvious what I'm trying to pull. Yet in all this, He delights in me, never gives up on me, teaches me, is patient with me, loves me more than can be expressed. And I would not know all this as clearly without the object lesson of trying to be like the parent He is to me.

Face Painting

2009-08-11T21:08:00.000-07:00

Priscilla loves face paint, and had received some for Christmas. Yesterday, in honor of one of the few "dog days of summer" we've had this year, she painted her face like a dog (using brown clothes to dress the part), and James was absolutely fascinated. He ran into the other room and returned with a pink crayon. "Mommy! Write dog James too!"

So Priscilla got her kit and asked him to stay still (a Herculean task for this 2-year-old!), and soon they were both sporting a canine countenance.

Wow. I never realized how long a tongue that boy has.

A New Franchise

2009-07-23T19:55:00.001-07:00

My littles have been most mischievous and cute.

On the first front, they were both engrossed in books yesterday afternoon, so I took a few moments to check e-mail. I looked back often to make sure they were still there and busy, and after a bit they appeared so peaceful, sharing and reading one book together, that I just had to take a look at which one it was. When I crossed the room, however, I discovered that they had been joyfully and cooperatively adhering about $5 worth of postage to the rug and the cover of (yes) just the one book.

What's more, I figured out that this must have been a two-step escapade, because the postage was from a roll of stamps inside a little plastic mail truck that ordinarily sits right next to the computer I'd just been using. The most likely explanation is that James discovered the truck sometime earlier, believed it to be a desirable toy, swiped it, and stored it near the books for later use . . . only to find out with Genevieve that it also housed all kinds of nice stickers!

On the second front . . . well, for those of you who have never (or rarely) met James, I need to explain his obsession with "coffee" (which was definitely among his first 5 words). From the first time he could wrangle a cup, he has been an inveterate hot beverage thief. This has not been helped by a certain soft-hearted nursery worker at church who has given in many times to his cute appeals to her for sips . . . or by our own weakness in this area! (And have you seen the tiny cute Starbucks kids' cups? Awww! I admit that I even get him his own drinks sometimes.) Plus, James figured out long ago that, after I drop Glenn off at church for worship team practice, I usually go order beverages (coffee for me, hot chocolate for Glenn; iced equivalents in summer) from a drive-through Dunkin' Donuts. As soon as I start rounding the corner of the church, he announces in a sing-song voice: "Coffee soon!" He has learned brand recognition for both Dunkin' and Starbucks, and sometimes gets upset when we pass one of either coffee source without stopping and purchasing one. (Hey, I guess I have to admit I'm kind of sad about such pass-bys myself!)

So it was only logical that, when Genevieve was inside the playhouse yesterday, and James saw her through the open window of it, that he began his order as he passed by on his trike: "Coffee . . . choc-it . . . cup!" Of course I had no camera at the right time, but I got them an appropriate cup to use for this roleplay and hoped they would continue so I could repose them. No such luck. Here's the best I can do. At least you can see why he'd see the connection!

Animal Tales

2009-07-21T05:19:00.001-07:00

Well, we had a cat for nearly a week. Lucy (previously known as "Bunky"; we renamed her) was a sweet Maine coon cat who loved laps, licking people who pet her, and finding soft places to hang out. She was so agreeable that she even sat on James's lap while he watched Sesame Street, and he was surprisingly gentle with his petting! Genevieve quickly learned the word "cat" and every time she saw a cat in a book, she would look around expectantly so she could point to the real thing. She still points vaguely around her when she sees a cat picture, like "There's one of these around here someplace!"

The only negative the shelter had told us about Lucy was that, in her previous home, she disliked using litter boxes frequented by other cats. "She would go outside the box if she had to use one with another cat's scent. She's fussy that way. But you should be fine if you have no other cats." We had no others. So we thought we were set.

Unfortunately, we started to observe a mismatch between how much liquid was being taken in by Lucy and how much we were removing from the box. Turns out she had been using those soft surfaces she liked so much (particularly two couches) as latrines. Eww.

Perhaps if I didn't have two toddlers running to cause chaos in opposite directions, I might have persisted a bit in trying to keep Lucy. But back she went . . . at which point the folks at the shelter revealed that couches were the "outside the box" locales where she would relieve herself at her previous home! I really would have preferred to know that earlier (we pictured *right* outside the box, as a previous cat of ours had done once or twice). I'm still trying to salvage one of our couches.

During this whole incident, my two oldest children have been having the time of their lives visiting their aunt and uncle in New Jersey (they're never going to want to come home!). So we have appeared to be your stereotypical 4-member family again, and our littles have definitely been the focus. The county fair is going on this week, and both toddlers love animals, so we got together with my husband's parents and went there. (Unfortunately we forgot our camera, so no images to follow!)

I thought, considering her reaction to the cat, that Genevieve would be the most excited about the experience. But it was James who was beside himself at the fair. He just couldn't believe that all these animals were *right there*! In front of him! And he could go find the next one himself! (We let him walk in each building, and he was actually willing to climb back into the stroller in order to go to the next place.) "Sheep! More sheep? Two sheep!" he would exclaim. ("Two" currently means multiples of any number.)

But the small poultry barn was, surprisingly, his favorite. The interior's perimeter was lined with cages. James ran around pointing at each cage in turn as quickly as he possibly could, telling everyone "Chicken! Chicken! Chicken! Chicken! Chicken! Chicken!" as he pointed.

There was a large incubator in the center that contained what looked like over a hundred baby chicks, and inexplicably the fellow who had brought these little ones decided that my hyper boy was a good candidate to hold one. "Uh, I really don't think you want to entrust a chick to this guy," I tried to warn him. "I think he might squeeze it."

"Oh, no, I'm sure he'll be just fine! Most little fellows just need to get used to the tickly feeling of the chick's feet, and then they hold them real gentle." He brought the poor unsuspecting victim chick closer. "Hold out your hand."

I shook my head, but put my palm out and put James's hand, palm up, on top. "See this chick?" said the man. "You can touch it!" James gently touched the chick's back with his other hand. "Now this chick, he has fingers, like you, and they're going to tickle your hand." The man put the chick on James's outstretched hand, which immediately curled up with wiggly fingers.

"Tickle, tickle!" said James. I think he thought he was supposed to tickle the chick back.

"Oh, dear," said the man, but my hand was underneath and caught the chick. ("My first time holding a baby chick!" was my bizarre thought, considering the circumstances.) And off James ran to see his grandpa, leaving me to return the (probably confused) chick to its owner.

Happy Birthday, Genevieve!

2009-04-29T19:30:00.000-07:00

It's the night before Genevieve's first birthday. She is such a lovable little girl, ready to smile and laugh at anything: a song from Priscilla (you should see Vivi's little "dance"!), a cuddle from Thomas, a tackle from James . . . all meet with her delight.

She has just learned to pull up to stand; her second locomotor preference is to "squiggle" in a sitting position, gradually working her way over to where she wants to go. If need be, she will reluctantly crawl, but usually complains about it as she goes.

She fits in well with the rest of us in her obsession with books. She likes to sit in one place and grab books from a basket or shelf, gradually arranging them in a circle around herself as she "reads" each one and fills a blank space with it. If we need to grab her up quickly to go somewhere, we find a mysterious "book circle" in her wake (often with a wet spot where she last read - the girl is still such a drooler!).

Genevieve gets into her fair share of trouble, now that she is mobile: however slow that mobility, if I am busy long enough with James's antics or other activity, I might return to find a shelf cleared of games or books, a roll of toilet paper unfurled, or a cereal box relieved of its contents.

It's been a delightful year, little one. We love you so much! Happy first birthday.

I Am Barbie, or A Lifelong Dream Fulfilled

2009-01-25T20:40:00.000-08:00

When James sees a mother in a picture book, he says it's a "mom."

However, when he sees a photograph of me specifically, he says it's "Mommy."

Well, he discovered this bottle of bubble bath, and declared it to be "Mommy." He plunged it into his bath water, laughed uproariously, and said, "Mommy bath!!"

Hey, when I first looked in the mirror after getting my hair colored blonde, I felt like I looked like Barbie, though I knew it was really delusion. But now it's been officially validated by my toddler.

I love that boy.

Nothin' but "awwwww"

2009-01-15T18:34:00.000-08:00

James loves these snacks. "Nack, peez," he asked sweetly. I started to open the package and give him some. "No. Nack, peez," he said patiently, holding out his hand for the container. The package was almost empty, so I handed it over. He ran to the piano, of all places, and climbed up. He put the package up near the music rack, and turned to the spot next to him on the bench. "Baby seat," he said. "Is that a seat for the baby? Well, okay," I said, and seated Genevieve beside him. (She, too, loves to play the piano.)

James rummaged around in the package and took out some pieces. "Baby nack," he informed me.

Then he put the pieces in between the piano keys, near Baby Genevieve's spot. He didn't eat any of these. "Baby. Nack," he told her.

She willingly indulged.

Only then did he reach in and grab his own handful.

Yeah. Mommy's heart melted.

He even repeated the whole process so I was able to record it in pictures.

It's a Wonderful Life

2009-01-07T05:50:00.000-08:00

Christmas makes me all manner of sentimental. At some point each year before December 25, it all "clicks," and the snow or the carol or the tradition I'm experiencing brings such joy and gratitude that I get all giddy. Or reflective. I'm the latter at the moment.

There are moments from 2008 that I don't want to forget, moments with each child that have made all the wild busyness of being a mom worthwhile.

Genevieve: Watching my beautiful baby girl fall asleep, eyes flying open at intervals to see if I'm still looking down at her . . . then smiling slightly and letting her eyes close again. My husband (the softy!) welcoming her to join us when she's awake at odd hours: "Let's just enjoy her!" he urges. Seeing her joy and interest in watching everything and everyone around her.

James: My little boy backing up to a lap (love that toddler move!!) with a book in his hands: "Bookie!" Or pointing out our pictures in the homemade flap-book my daughter made for him: "Me-mom. Papa. Ta-tee [Thomas]. La [Priscilla]. Bum-ma [Grandma]." His bright smile when he sees me in the morning . . . or right before he charges off from one activity to pursue the next one that occurs to him. His attempts to comfort his sisters when they are upset by touching a hand, kissing them, or bringing them an object he himself enjoys.

Priscilla: Seeing my daughter's joy at a perfect day with her best friend, brimming with news of all that happened, bearing a blanket she made there for her baby sister. Reading a going-beyond essay she's written. Hearing her volunteer as soon as the first leaves start falling so she can find her (to me) unthinkable satisfaction in clearing every last leaf from the grass. Being surprised at bits of knowledge or vocabulary she displays that show she has so much more depth and maturity in some area than I'd realized.

Thomas: Watching my husband truly enjoy his time with our son, whether it's cleaning out gutters together on ladders (with me inside trying not to get freaked out as a mom over the height), crafting the ultimate anime costume together, or viewing shows Glenn's waited years to show him. Seeing Thomas's maturity deepen, his vocabulary all his own but with flecks of influence from his friends, his reading, his lines of opinion on various topics.

And those are just a few. It's these quiet things that get lost in the craziness.

Sure, there are the obvious blogging moments to which I've tended to succumb. My children now clamor "you have to blog this!" when such events occur (most recently when James's "help" in setting the table resulted in interesting arrangements of dishes and butter on objects and in his hair).

But failed toddler-chasing moments and desperate parenting prayers aside, I love this stuff. My blog may not get updated when I want it to (like this Christmas post happening weeks later!). Despite my stated intent in my profile at right, I may wonder aloud a million times why I can't possibly find enough down time to do more than the basics, when "everyone else seems to be able to" (my favorite whine). I may feel every day like I've failed miserably in some category (disciple, wife, mom, homeschooler, homemaker, cook, daughter, friend . . . why can't I manage it all?). But I think (and hope!) that I'll be able to look back on this time and gloss it over nicely as OK after all, because of the precious gifts of these moments that have little or nothing to do with my competence or efforts. You might think it's grace or something.

The New Breadbox . . . and Other Symptoms of Life in 2008

2008-10-16T11:23:00.000-07:00

Remember the game of Twenty Questions, and the old-time query of "Is it bigger than a breadbox?"

I just overheard the current version from my daughter yesterday: "Is it bigger than a PS2?"

My children were also very excited the other day when we found a rotary-dial phone from the 1980s or so (I forgot how heavy those desk phones were!). They had just been asking earlier that week about how rotary dials worked, so here was my "teachable moment"! I didn't anticipate the first question from Thomas, though: "Should I not dial 911? That always goes through, doesn't it?" (We had explained earlier that even a cell phone that wasn't actively part of a phone plan would still successfully reach 911.) So I had to explain to these children of the wireless age that this ancient specimen of a phone actually had to be plugged into a wall to function. Strange but true.

And speaking of being plugged in . . . we lost power this afternoon for just a half hour or so, exactly when the two babies were sleeping and I'd planned to get lots of things done. It soon became obvious (once again) how dependent I am on electricity: I couldn't start supper, type in a blog entry, organize photos, show the older kids things online, start up the laundry, or any of the other things on my list! I decided to call the power company, just in case they didn't know about the outage, and Thomas listened to me have the following "conversation":

Power company: "Thank you for calling. I am an automated assistant. How may I help you?"

Me: "Uh, our power is out."

INSTANTLY, the power came on again! Thomas and I cracked up. Now, that was service!

Circumstantial Evidence

2008-09-29T08:26:00.000-07:00

The following were found together today at 10:23 AM.

Exhibit A: James-Boy. Wet chin and shirt, big grin.

Exhibit B: Cup, water on all surfaces.

Exhibit C: Open toilet with very wet seat.

Ewww.

You are AFK

2008-09-27T21:34:00.000-07:00

When my husband is on the road, we WoW together (play World of Warcraft) when we can manage it. While we beat on bad guys in the game, or run to a new area in which to beat on them, we can "whisper" comments to each other on the screen that only the two of us can see. (Sounds romantic, doesn't it?) This works very effectively as communication between the two of us, and the whole endeavor serves the purposes of (a) making us both feel like we're getting some "down time" in our respective days, (b) relaying information to each other about our days in a context where we're getting rid of any stress related to the events, and (c) relating to each other from afar in a playful way in which we achieve mutual (albeit trivial!) goals. As you can tell, it's all very well reasoned-out, marriage-enriching stuff. :)

Well, while playing the game, if I need to walk away from the computer to do something, and it takes long enough for me to get back, I might find my game character sitting idly on the ground, and a line reading "You are AFK"--Away From the Keyboard--in the chat box on my game screen. I think it would be cool if I could hack in somehow and make the image of me do what I'm doing "IRL" (In Real Life): throwing laundry in the washer, checking on a coughing kiddo, feeding the baby. . . uh, well, OK, I guess there are limits!

Anyway, bizarrely, it made me think about what has been in my life this week: some little stuff that I got to be there to see and hear and experience because I wasn't the life equivalent of AFK.

Actually, my mom had been up for a few days, and I felt a little sheepish that our life seemed so complicated while we were living it in front of her, if you know what I mean. We had an unusual amount of appointments and such, but it's usually a good kind of busy that we stay while Glenn is gone. I guess in retrospect that, in our own small way, we did have a big week, both during and after her visit.

For instance, my baby girl Genevieve learned to sit by herself. She had to concentrate, though: she puts a lot of energy into responding to people, so she would repeatedly knock herself over by smiling if we caught her eye. She also started on rice cereal this week, and was eating like a champ by her second time trying it.

Priscilla had a friend stay overnight. They slept in a tent in the basement and made shaped pancakes for everyone in the morning, using batter put into a washed-out syrup bottle. (The spider, puppy, and teddy bear pancakes were my favorites.) Priscilla got a reply to a letter she'd written to the people at Big Idea (who make Veggie Tales), and received her issue of Clubhouse, so she had a great mail week! She also made yummy spicy gingerbread cookies this afternoon.

The kids started rehearsals this week for the Christmas play. Thomas is one of the three kings, and I heard great reports about his first day. Priscilla had been really disappointed about not getting a particular role, but really likes the way the girl who got the role plays it, and I know she'll be hilarious as ever in her own part.

I have been having a great time reading Ginger Pye out loud at the lunch table. Thomas recommended the book, and it's been so fun! (My mom listened, too, while here.) I've also been surprised at how much both Thomas and Priscilla have enjoyed listening to G.A. Henty's The Cat of Bubastes in the car: Priscilla said it was one of her favorite books ever (see her below reading a less favored one upside-down). It prompted great thought and discussions on the origins of polytheism in Egypt and other countries, and on how the lives of people on the fringes of Bible characters' lives may have played into God's plan for those we know most about in those passages.

Thomas made my homeschool teaching week with some of his observations about the epic of Gilgamesh. He and Priscilla both also volunteered help at some key times with "the littles" with such good will. Oh, God is so good to me.

James-Boy got into some fairly large scrapes, but also had some extremely cute moments. For instance, he would repeatedly put a doll into Genevieve's bouncy seat (the kind that hangs in a doorway), then take the doll out to kiss and cuddle it. Wish I could have caught that on camera.

We got to take our dog Kiyoshi for a couple walks in some woods we hadn't tried before, and the paths had room for the stroller! James got out for part of the way the first time through, and walked the paths with great enthusiasm (though inevitably he managed to step in another dog's leavings).

And I went to a session of women's Bible study that was really good and challenging; among other things, it (and the text) encouraged me to take a look at both "wilderness times" and worship in ways I haven't in a while.

All added up, as crazy-making as it can be, this little stuff of home and family life makes me glad I can't be AFK regarding it . . . that often.

Soft Laughter in Heaven

2008-09-10T19:02:00.000-07:00

Aunt Rose Marie died last night. She'd been really sick: she was diagnosed with ALS a year or so ago and had already lost the ability to walk. When she faced a bout of pneumonia, it was too hard for her to recover. In fact, back in late May I thought I was sending a last card to her (she'd sent a gift for Genevieve right before the pneumonia).

She was in hospice for quite a while and rallied somewhat. Originally they wanted her to get a stomach tube put in, but she refused, and managed to start eating again. Typical Aunt Rose Marie: The hospice nurse asked her about whether it was encouraging to be eating food again at the hospital. Aunt Rose Marie eyed the liquidy mush they'd served her. "Well, all in all, I'd rather have a Kit Kat bar,"she quipped, quoting an old commercial. Whereupon the literalistic nurse mushed up a Kit Kat bar for her, and Rose Marie ate it with great amusement and relish!

When I saw her just a few weeks ago, she wished she could hold Genevieve. So I set the baby propped up right at her side on the bed, and my aunt marveled at Genevieve's soft skin, chunky thighs, and drooly smiles. Rose Marie was really thin, but very much herself - talking and softly laughing like ever. She'd always seen the funny side of situations. Even as her late husband (my dad's brother - Uncle Chuck) was dealing with terminal cancer, they'd talked to me about wanting to reply to an oversentimental "I'm sorry" with mock surprise and a glint of vengeance: "Did you do this, then? I've been looking for you!!" After Uncle Chuck (who overall seemed a pretty stern guy) died, Aunt Rose Marie re-met and married Dick, a rather eccentric bachelor who'd carried a torch for her throughout his life. He is a real character, always very verbal about being unabashedly head-over-heels ga-ga for "my blondie." He came with his own set of challenges, but the quiet laughter got more constant and uproarious once he came along.

Aunt Rose Marie dealt with a lot during her life, but always retained her sweet demeanor and generous spirit. She had real gifts of hospitality and service to others - making meals for others, helping with anything and everything at church, ensuring my widowed mom had company by inviting her over at least once every single week throughout the years, and so on.

She was a great cook, too. She would make really simple fare that was delicious - her "yogurt pie" (graham cracker crust, Cool Whip, yogurt - done!) was always the first thing I went for at Thanksgiving dinner as a kid. During my early marriage I stole her recipe for biscuits, but still can't make them quite the way she did.

I just can't imagine family gatherings without hearing her voice and laughter. But now I'll have to wait for the ultimate family gathering in Heaven to hear them again. Love you, Aunt Rose Marie.

Encounter: "Tomato"

2008-09-07T03:23:00.000-07:00

There James-Boy was at the table, contentedly taking toys out from a metal box and putting them back in. Granted, the toys belonged to Thomas, so I alerted him. "It's fine, Mom," Thomas called. "He's not hurting them." So I went back to changing baby Genevieve. I glanced back to find James pulling apart what looked like red paper, and went to investigate. Ah, another cherry tomato, I thought as I drew closer.

James-Boy has been snitching cherry tomatoes from the garden during the last couple weeks. I've tried to discourage him, but haven't been completely strict simply because he and I are the only ones in the family who will even eat tomatoes, and he's done pretty well at choosing the ripe ones. Well, the boy may never want to eat a tomato again
. . . because it only LOOKED like one this time. By the time I put down Genevieve and got to James, he had taken several bites of one of Glenn's habernero peppers.

As he screamed and clawed at his burning mouth, I grabbed him and tried to use enough soap and baking soda to get rid of the habernero oil from his hands. I stuffed him in the highchair and gave him bread and milk. He started to calm down. OK, I thought. At least he didn't get it in his eyes. So I washed up my own hands and grabbed the crying Genevieve, only to put her down again as James renewed his screams at higher volume. Sure enough, he'd managed to rub habernero oil into his eyes.

Now he was wildly kicking, screaming, and making it worse by rubbing more oil into his eyes. I grabbed him, rewashed his hands, tried to hold them down at his sides and simultaneously run a bath, called for Glenn, and appreciatively saw Thomas pick up the still-crying Genevieve. By this time, my hands and forearms, which had contacted the oil briefly while cleaning James, were actively stinging - so I could only imagine the pain he was in!

Into the bath he went, and at Glenn's suggestion I added Aveeno oatmeal bath to it. The Aveeno package says it will do no harm if "accidentally ingested." Hopefully they mean "deliberately" as well: after a bit, the curiosity of James-Boy won over his pain and he grabbed at the globs of oatmeal to stuff them into his mouth. He seemed downright delighted at having gotten away with said action. I figured this did more good than harm and let him sprinkle more from the packet into the bath. He actually giggled (from his poor swollen, bright-pink face) as he made Aveeno "snow" fall on his bath toys.

A half-hour later (after more drama: why must toddlers poop in every bath that lasts longer than five minutes?), the swelling had gone down and there were only traces of pink across his face and under his eyes. This morning, you'd never know it had even happened. Hmm. Will this have inoculated him to spice, so that few things seems hot in comparison? Or will he shy away from all things the least bit spicy?

I'm thinking I'll still have to watch him around the tomatoes.