A Moral Moment

While explaining about how we know good actions from bad actions, I said, "..like when you want to push your sister..."

"...Or throw a rock at her!" he interjects with relish.

"Ummm.... yes. Or want to throw a rock at her..."

How you know when you've been playing too much Super Mario Galaxy

While watching her Daddy play, the 'Sita distinctly states, "Bowza, messy! Nonono!"

Renaming

After deliberating about this for a while, I have decided to reinvent the Cita as the Sita. The "Cita" came from a shortening of "Rosita" (little rose), and I put a "c" instead of an "s" because it looked better to me. I forgot about "cita" being a real word in Spanish meaning, "date" or "appointment." I feel that as she gets older, it would be best to not be calling her, "my daughter, the date."

Henceforth and forthwith, she shall be known as the Sita, which name she should have been all along.

An Ah-Ha! (Svithe-ish) Moment

Once upon a time (no one knows precisely when) I listened to a talk by one of the Twelve Apostles (it could have been Elders Holland, Oaks, Eyring, or Maxwell), and it changed my life. I'm really quite sorry I don't have a better memory of who gave this talk or when it was - I know it was during my freshman year at college.

In it, the speaker told us that we were always being prompted to do good things, and that we should act on any good thing that came into our minds because it came from God. We shouldn't worry about offending the person or worrying that they wouldn't want our help, if it was potentially good, then we should just do it. I was struck by that thought then, and it still influences me now.

I remember that slightly after that talk, I found someone trying to get down a rather slick walkway (ok, so I can narrow it down to wintertime). She was a disabled girl that I had seen around, and she was doing ok, but I felt that I should go and help her down the slope. Immediately I thought, "But what if I offend her because she doesn't want help or pity?" Then I remembered that exhortation to act on any good thing I could do.

I helped her.

She was very grateful and said that I was an answer to her prayer. That seemed a little strange to me because I didn't feel like I was doing anything especially wonderful - it was just a random thought that popped into my head - not a burning desire or anything spectacular.

That experience was liberating somehow - because I could fear my own doubts a little less.

In that moment of enlightenment, I also began to understand how Heavenly Father can use us as His instruments; how small and simple things really can bring great things to pass. Perhaps not great things in the eyes of the world, but perhaps in the eyes of the person who we can help in that small moment.

But I want it!

The Spozo most Maravilloso got me a new digital camera for Christmas. He did a very good job reading reviews and getting the best one for the price range it's in. Unfortunately, I still prefer my ancient one over the newcomer. I (regrettably) threw several hissy fits over the new one because it wasn't what I was used to, and the pictures I took were miserable. (Sorry to family members that I was supposed to be taking portraits of!)

The Spozo philosophically realized that he would never, not ever want me to pick out a gidget for him without much consultation and well, picking it himself; in short, that he had committed the cardinal sin of buying a me-specific gadget without my input. More, he agrees that the new camera's picture quality is not what he was expecting. Now that he has confessed and repented of this most grievous gift-giving sin, he is quite ready to let me get the Camera of My Dreams.

Within reason.

I would love to buy one of those thousands of dollars beauties, but being a (somewhat) rational creature, I have focused in on the Nikon D80. It is almost a completely irrational attraction, but I cannot deny it. Yes, yes, I know that the Canons are quite nice, too. (And having gotten to play with one recently, I can say they are very, very nice indeed!) But that doesn't change the fact that I want a Nikon.

Please?

Hack, Hack

Of course one of the few Sundays we both had to be at Sacrament meeting, both of our kids are very very sick. Much of the night they spent coughing in their sleep.

So what do we do? We dress them up and bring them with us.

I don't know if I'd recommend doing this again.

Thankfully, we have wonderful friends that helped us out during the bit that we were both occupied. Thanks, friends!

Don't worry, the kidlets went (happily) home with Dad after the meeting was over. I guess some bug is taking out all the kids the Dude's age because only 2 of the usual 6 kids were there in his class today. I guess they're just exceptionally good bug sharers.

I guess I am bloodthirsty

I just heard on the radio about some parents that actually .... I don't want to say encouraged ... but allowed their son to have sex with his girlfriend in his bedroom. Knowingly!

So now, if the Cita ever wants to visit her boyfriend at his house, I must have met his parents and had a nice cup of (herbal) tea with them while I get them to sign in triplicate that they will neither encourage or consent to our children being alone in a room with a closed door at all. And that if anything does happen, their son will be celibate. By force. Permanently.

Would that provide enough incentive, do you think?

Rant no. 2

After wobbling between not sending the Dude to Kindergarten at all in the state of California, homeschooling, and sending him "early" (he's just past the deadline), I decided that I should at least see if I can get him in early. I wrangled the Dude and Cita to a kindergarten open house to see if I could get some questions answered.

I didn't expect that we were going on to visit every single classroom on the school grounds. The Cita panicked because of so many new faces and environments, and the Dude lost interest after 3rd grade, so we ended up staying in the halls and learning the names of the states and their capitals and looking for stars.

I did learn two valuable things: which kindergarten teacher I would trust my son to, and that his reading level was easily in the 3rd grade and perhaps in 4th grade (although my elementary-ed sis-in-law told me it was 5th-6th last summer).

The meaningless question and answer period - first with the PTA, then with a teacher, and then with the student council and then with the principal. Luckily, we were in the school's library and the kids amused themselves by reading books. Or becoming a ghost to haunt the student council and crash into folding chairs. The Dude pulled out a Dr. Seuss tome and sat at the same table as the principal to read it.

Finally, after everyone had finished asking their insipid questions about school lunches and recess and filed out, I got the principal's attention. She admitted to being impressed with his reading, she also thought that he proved himself to be emotionally ready for kindergarten and greeted with surprise the fact that he hasn't gone to (formal) preschool.

As I explained the reasons why I wanted the Dude admitted to kindergarten this year rather than next, she very agreeably agreed with most of my points. 1)the Dude can read already 1.5)he is just past the deadline 2)he is starting to do simple addition 3)he knows his numbers to 100 (mostly) 4)he's just past the deadline! She very sympathetically said the law is the law is the law... but let me give you some phone numbers.

I am so frustrated with this. I understand the need to set some limits, but I am really frustrated (see those italics?) with how the system only deals with outliers in one direction. There are a plethora of programs for "Special Education." But the Special part is for the kids that are struggling. Now, don't get me wrong, I'm glad that they have safety nets for kids that don't handle normal schooling well.

BUT.

It seems like the really smart kids are just expected to make do with the normal education. I think that is as unfair as expecting a kid that has problems learning to make do with normal education. It is NOT fair.

Should we be surprised that a lot of gifted kids are the ones that don't do well in a "normal" classroom environment? (Here's where we trot Einstein out.) I knew a couple extremely bright people that did horribly in "normal" classrooms just because they were extremely bored - or because they were always thinking outside the box, and the teachers only rewarded the inside the boxers. Once they got among their true peers (in age AND ability) they really shone. (Especially with outside-the-box-appreciating-teachers). A recent issue of Time Magazine focused on truly brilliant kids that dropped out of school for various reasons - mostly because the system neglected them in some way.

Now that I've talked to the District person once, he's promised to get back to me, he didn't, I called again, his secretary reassured me he'd get back to me, and he hasn't, I am leaning toward giving His Districtness a Severe Lecture and then opting for "homeschooling" the Dude through kindergarten. I want him to have the social fun of kindergarten, but having him sit through "A is 'a' like 'apple'" is ridiculous when he can read this: (which he did tonight without any help)

And after this manner was the language of my father in the praising of his God; for his soul did rejoice and his whole heart was filled, be-cause (hyphenated because of a line break) of the things which he had seen, yea, which the Lord had shown unto him.

Contested Territory

The Dude and Cita have a new game: Who's Got Mommy?

The rules seem to be that you can play at any time. Bonus Points for being the one who starts it.

Once you have successfully gotten Mommy to snuggle with you, you turn to your sibling and laugh maniacal laughter to indicate that you have won that round.

The unsnuggled sib then comes to the mommy and tries to get possession of half of the Mommy Lapspace so that they can join in the maniacal laughter and then the jumping starts.

This lasts until the mommy goes crazy from all the bouncing and laughing and general craziness and finds something that Has To Be Done Immediately so she can jettison the children with good reason.

Out with the old....

...and in with the new!




The Spozo Maravilloso has been desperate to get me a new pair of glasses. He abhorred my old Cynthia Rowley frames. I didn't think they deserved such scorn. The story is that when I tried on these Norma Kamali frames (even though I picked them out mostly to be silly), he immediately Knew These Were the Frames for Me. I didn't quite believe him, but trusted that he saw me more often and knew what I would look best in. And I think he might be right. Maybe.

My son, the Outlaw

The Dude is interested in familial relationships right now, and we started discussing what an "in-law" is. After I explained that I was his Nonna's daughter-in-law, and Uncle M was my brother-in-law, he thought for a second and then said, "Then I'm your outlaw!"

Cue much riotous laughter.

In loving memory

By now, you all know that President Hinckley died last night. He was a man of energy, optimism, and love. I always felt better after listening to him speak because of his unfailing confidence in us. He inspired me to try a little harder to be a little better.

He will be missed.

Magic Disappearing Chocolate

While at See's Candies the other day claiming our Christmas present (thanks, Auntie C!), they gave us our usual sample chocolates. Being preoccupied with picking out which ones we wanted, I held my sample in my hand. After we had finished making the See's employee run back and forth and debating whether to get the raspberry truffle or the raspberry cream, I reached to taste my sample and found only an empty wrapper!

I immediately rounded upon the Spozo and demanded to know where my chocolate had gone! By his look of bewilderment, I surmised that he hadn't taken it. I looked mournfully to the ground and didn't spot it there, either. A little perplexed, I looked around a bit more - and then I remembered: I had a chocolate-loving Cita on my hip.

Now, chocolate is one of the few foods you can name and the Cita will immediately purse her lips and say "ooo!" while doing her happy kicky feet.

And yes, she had dexterously snitched the truffle and had already taken a dainty nibble (I told you she knows how to eat chocolate!). Obviously, the butterscotch caramel had not appeased her. I snatched it back and let the chocolate melt in my mouth, noting that it was especially tasty. I tracked down which flavor it was: Kona Mocha.

MMMMM.

Since the only time I get mocha is by happenstance, I enjoyed it thouroughly. I only hope we don't have another Mocha convert on our hands.

Conversation

As I scrub the table the Dude prances in, "Hey, Mommy, I can pull [the Cita] up onto your bed!" (He likes showing off his strong muscles.)

"Hmm." I scrape off some cemented-on breakfast cereal, "That's pretty cool. Why would you do that?"

"Because I was up on the bed..... and she loves me!"


   

Your Highness

During reading time today, we came across a lot of words that are not in the Dude's usual vocabulary. The words immovable, independent, miraculous, privately, century and anxious among them. (I admit to a little thrill of Parental Pride when he piped up, "And four centuries would be four hundred years!" - especially because he just got the concept of "one hundred" last week!)

For the life of me, I couldn't figure out how to describe what "with dignity" meant to my four-year old without confusing him even more. My best stuttering attempt, "like a king or queen," didn't fly because he's never really seen a king or a queen, and he literally starts crying and flees the room when we (try to) watch Disney fairytales (those villannesses are quite nasty!).

Finally, I jumped up and tried to show him how not to walk with dignity (I'm very good at that) and then attempting to walk with dignity. Of course, he wanted to try - and did so.... decidedly without dignity. Professor Higgins would've been aghast.

Long story short: I failed to describe "with dignity" with dignity, and I won't be cast as Eliza Doolittle anytime soon.

Who's more wonderful?

While cleaning, the Spozo Maravilloso prickles as I lord my superior cleaning experience over him.

He waves one of his cards, "I took out the trash!"

I counter with a full house, "I washed, folded AND put your laundry in your drawers!" Smugly thinking I had won this round, I moved in for my victory kiss.

He took the wind out of my sails with this straight flush, "You're right. You're more wonderful than me."

Yea. He's right.

So he won that round.

Darn humility.

Advantage to sparring with spouse: You get a victory kiss no matter who wins.

Excuse me while I laugh in your face

I admit I knew I was pushing my kids beyond their endurance when I took them into Michael's the other day. My mission was to find some yarn for belated Christmas presents. I didn't expect the trouble to begin before we had even entered the doors.

The Dude started to stage a sit-in protest due to the fact I would not let him push the wobbly Michael's cart with his sister inside. Because I wasn't taking what he considered proper action in regards to his protest, he decided to add a more vocal protest as well. Quite vocal, indeed.

We started getting attention from other customers, so I stopped completely ignoring his protests. While admiring the new Martha Stewart Crafts line (it is so divine), I explained in a neutral voice that he was in NO WAY going to win me over when he was acting like this, and that if he wanted to ride in the cart, I would be happy to put him inside once he stopped his current actions, but that he was Not going to be pushing the cart that day.

I think he's learned that I'm a pretty tough negotiator, so after some token whining he capitulated sooner rather than later. As I wheeled through the store with reformed protester in cart basket, a gentleman stopped me to say, "I was impressed with how you handled your son over there."

Blank staring from me ensues. He passed me, saying, "You must have the patience of Job."

Here's where I start laughing. Not just a little smile or titter, I am belly laughing in the Christmas clearance aisle of Michael's.

I'm still not sure if he meant it as a compliment or not, but I'd like to say, "Sir, Thank you for giving me a good laugh when I needed it, and I hope I didn't offend you."

That "House of Order" thing might have something to it

I've been meaning for months to put a schedule together for the week. Mostly just for me to say, "Gee, today is Laundry Day - I'd better do some!" or "Even though the bathtub is not growing red algae yet, I shall clean it to be Ahead of the Game!"

Over Christmas, my dear Mother-in-Law suggested that I put things like naps and potty times on a schedule because the Dude does much better when he knows something is coming and when to expect it. When she started speaking, the light started shining and that cool wind started blowing my hair all around and then I knew it was Inspiration.

Accordingly, I've drawn up a "schedule" and getting him to sit on the toilet for five minutes or relaxing on his bed and quietly reading his books is now as easy as asking, "Well, what's on the schedule?"

Just because I inscribed "poo time" and "REST" on a piece of paper seven times!

The Begging and Pleading and finally Ordering on Pain of TubTime associated with getting him to sit on the throne to make a deposit have vanished AND he has actually Taken a Nap Without Prenaptual Tantrum.

My faith in scheduling is restored.

Amen.

Now THAT is Generosity

Now that the Dude is four, he is aware that he will be going to school in the next couple of years. A couple blocks after we had dropped his Dad off to work (for the first time in three weeks), the Dude said, "Mama, when I'm five, then I'll go to school and I'll give all my money to you and Daddy to help pay for things."

Hmmmm...

Apparently he's aware of more than going to school.

Apparently we need to stop discussing finances in front of the Dude.

Christmas, New Year's and Home Again WITHOUT getting sick!

Hallelujah!