As long as it lasts

I had been reading The Extraordinary Education of Nicholas Benedict to the children in the evenings, which was fine. 

But the chapters are so long.

And the book is so long.

And I'm so tired...

And when I was at the library last week, a book called Blue Mountain caught my eye, so I pulled it off the shelf and was surprised to see it was written by Martine Leavitt! I'm familiar with a lot of what she's written, but evidently haven't kept up with everything because I hadn't heard of this title. Marti, by the way, was my Young Women's president when I was...you know...young! So I checked it out and have been reading that to the kids instead, while The Extraordinary Education of Nicholas Benedict languishes beside my reading chair (we'll get to you, Trenton Lee Stewart). 

Painting Pumpkins

Auntie K sent the kids a Halloween activity to do a while ago and we (embarrassingly) just got around to doing it today. 

Life's been a little hectic! 

But today was "Friday Free Day!" and so I just let the kids have their free time while I worked on my school work and I got a lot accomplished! This week one of my classes didn't have any assignments while another one of my classes posted the rest of the assignments for the semester. So naturally I've spent this week hammering those out so I can have them out of the way. I haven't turned them all in yet, but I have read everything I need to and have written everything I need to and have them queued up to be turned in (I'm going to parcel them out over the next couple of weeks). I finished my final project for another class (though I still have three quizzes left to take, but I have to take those certain days so can't get ahead with those). 

Anyway, I was feeling rather on top of things with my school work and though there was more I could have done (and still should probably do before this baby arrives), I decided I could take some time off this afternoon to have fun with the kids. So we painted squishy pumpkins together. 

Alexander put this silly face on his pumpkin:

Presents last week, presents this week...

Miriam (whose birthday was on Monday) opened up her gifts on Saturday since Andrew's flight was on Sunday (though his presentation was on Monday and he ordinarily teaches that day, anyway, so he is typically busy on Mondays).

Alexander chose a spot of honour next to the birthday girl:

Still Pregnant

So now that Andrew's trip is over and done with, I can tell you that he flew out to Utah this week to give a research talk. We didn't tell many people he was heading out there because (a) we knew his schedule would be packed and (b) we didn't want certain people to have to worry for longer than they should. If you're a worrier (Hi, Mom!), I probably mean you!

But no worries! 

Before he left Andrew told me not to have the baby while he was gone and in an act of solidarity, Alexander ran up to me, gave my belly a couple of pushes and said, "Shove! Shove!"

He was all about doing his part to keep the baby inside.

We also had our cul-de-sac on "high alert" and my cousin Dylan even postponed her surgery so that she would be available to help out at the last minute, if needed (technically she postponed her surgery so she could have fun with her kids on Halloween, but she also let me know that she had postponed it so that if I needed anything I shouldn't hesitate to let her know and she'd drop everything to come be with the kids).

It's here that I'll admit we had a little bit of a scare a few weeks ago (on Alexander's birthday, of all days, but long after he'd been put to bed) and we ended up here:

The hospital

We're so very thankful that...

What I really need to do is hop on the exercise bike (because it's cold and rainy and no one wants to go for a walk today)—and I'll do that—but first, I'm going to share a quick story. 

I'm 35 weeks today! I had an appointment this morning, including another BPP (biophysical profile) ultrasound. Evidently I get to have a lot of those because I'm (a) geriatric and (b) have gestational diabetes. Some good news to come out of this was irrefutable evidence that the baby has flipped and is now presenting vertex (head down), as she should. We're rather excited about that over here.

A slightly funny part is that she's so very head down that the ultrasound technician had a little bit of trouble getting a decent head measurement, so while the rest of Phoebe is measuring in, like, the 30th percentile for growth, her head came in at, like, the 80th percentile for growth. The technician must have seen my eyes grow large as I tried to digest the numbers I was seeing on the screen (so many centimeters) because she said, "That head measurement is not accurate at all! She's just squished so far down there I can't get any closer to her to get a better measurement. I'm sure her head isn't that big because her head has always been proportional to her body and her body is measuring fine." 

Also, measurements get more and more inaccurate the farther along you are. We're not so worried about measurements at this point as we are about making sure she's getting the blood flow she needs, etc. 

Anyway, the kids were all excited that she had turned, even though there were no cute profile pictures to share with them (I mean, the technician kindly sent along a few pictures from today's scan but they were definite what-the-heck-is-that pictures and not that's-definitely-a-baby pictures). 

Alexander offered our dinner prayer. He's been pretty good at being thoughtful during his prayers lately, rather than praying his sweet little vain repetitions. This is both adorable and...unpredictable.

"We're thankful for this wonderful day that we could have today," he began (with a vain repetition). "And we're so very thankful that Phoebe..."

Here he paused and we all waited for him to say "flipped around" or something (even though he had been so very opposed to praying for such a weird thing a month ago). His pause was long. Pregnant even. 

Halloween Recital

Zoë and Benjamin both recently finished their primer level piano books and moved onto their level 1 books and it just so happened that they both had Halloween-themed songs near the beginning of their books. We figured this would be a good month to learn them (so I skipped several songs for both of them and assigned the Halloween songs, but we'll go back to what we missed; it'll all work out in the end). They haven't been practicing very long, but we decided to record them anyway...before it was time for Christmas music, ya know?

Rachel joined in with Funeral March (Chopin), which she'd learned a while ago but freshened up for the recital, and Miriam bravely decided to attempt Toccata and Fugue in D Minor (Bach), even though she hasn't quite finished learning the last four page-turns or so. 

Alexander decided he would sing his favourite Halloween song. We all ended up being back-up singers for him because he kept singing too quietly on his own. But he did great.

Miriam's birthday cake

Miriam wanted a s'more cake for her birthday, so Rachel did some research and planned out a phenomenal cake that sounded mouthwatering to everyone in the family...except me. I mean, besides the fact that I'm completely off sugar right now...marshmallows + chocolate = a big "no thanks" from me. When Andrew lamented that he wouldn't be around for cake (since Miriam's birthday is on Monday and he's otherwise occupied Monday(s)), Alexander smacked his lips and said, "Goody! More cake for us!"

And so, in an effort to spite Alexander and include their father (because in this house, we're both vindictive and virtuous), the girls made the executive decision to celebrate Miriam's birthday with cake today rather than on Monday. 

Rachel spent practically all day Friday and Saturday in the kitchen. She made a (homemade) chocolate cake with (homemade) marshmallow fluff filling, covered in (homemade) buttercream frosting, topped everything with (homemade) ganache, and bedazzled it with mini s'mores that she made by roasting mini marshmallows over a candle flame.

We teased her for not making her own graham crackers and marshmallows, which she kind of took as a challenge so don't be surprised if you see her whipping up those from scratch in the near future just to prove that she can (as I said earlier: vindictive and virtuous).

Just...no one say anything about making chocolate to her, okay?

(Although, I have a friend who took a chocolate-making class when she was living down in Mexico. We're talking, like, "Step one: Open cocoa pod. Step two: Roast the beans. Step three: Mash the beans." Except that I have no idea what the actual procedure is, so don't follow those steps I just told you. Let's just say, the class took her through the whole process and what she shared looked very interesting...if you're into that sort of thing (and even if you're not, because I'm not particularly interested in making chocolate from scratch and yet it looked interesting)).

Here's the finished product, fresh from the fridge so it could get warm on the counter while we went on our family walk:

OOB and fee

We spent some time doing some Halloween crafts this afternoon—namely: getting Miriam's birthday "balloons" ready (she decided to stick with the Halloween tree theme, much to Alexander's delight) and getting some Halloween cards ready to send out.

Now that Alexander can actually pronounce things, he's becoming very interested in reading and writing. For example, went the whole way around the block today running ahead to each mailbox, sitting down primly on the curb to wait for Andrew and me to catch up,* and then proudly "reading" the numbers on the mailbox for us. He still gets 6 and 9 confused, but he does fairly well otherwise. He's also doing reading lessons and has begun sounding out words all on his own as he goes about his day (there's this one superhero book that has been particularly motivating for Alexander; he wants to know every word in that book).

* I've been insisting the past several weeks that I'm walking at the very same speed I always have, but it turns out that my waddle is getting real. Andrew checked his Fitbit to show me just how much I've slowed down as my belly has grown. I've about doubled the time it takes for us to walk around the block! And, really, we have been lagging behind the children more and more recently. But, boy, do I ever feel like I'm moving as fast as I ever have. Getting up our hill takes so much work!

Anyway, Alexander wanted to write his own messages, but he wanted the messages to be meaningful rather than nonsense, so he worked really hard on them!

Organ embroidery

Last week Miriam's organ teacher texted us out of the blue one evening to say that she was moving to Korea to take care of her mother (recently diagnosed with a terminal illness), so this would be her last week of lessons. We're sad to lose such a wonderful teacher, of course, but I'm so happy that her teacher has the flexibility to go! Living far away from family can be difficult. 

She gave us a few leads for replacement teachers, so we're working on filling that gap, but in the meantime, Miriam had her lesson coming up (on Wednesday) and she wanted to get a goodbye gift for her teacher. But what?

If my last post didn't make this clear...I'm not a good shopper. Knowing what to buy other people is...not in my skillset. Luckily, gifts don't always have to be purchased and sometimes something homemade offers that special touch of je ne sais quoi. So Miriam decided she'd "whip up" some embroidery—a set of organ pipes—for her teacher. 

It took most of her spare time between that sad text message and her lesson, but she finished it just in the nick of time. Andrew snapped a picture of her (and it) before taking her to her final lesson.

Matchy-matchy

Way back when I first found out I was pregnant and was experiencing All The Emotions, I decided that if I really was doing this again (which evidently we were), then I at least could be cute and comfortable: I was going to buy maternity clothes.

This was a great plan for me...except that I'm frugal to a fault...and spending money is really hard for me. So I was lucky that my neighbour gifted me a bag of maternity clothes because I still couldn't quite bring myself to buy very much, especially because we're really at our caboose now. For real. 

Still, I convinced myself to buy a couple pairs of maternity leggings, which was important for me even early on because I think I was the absolute sickest with this pregnancy that I've ever been—throwing up and fainting (which I haven't really ever done during pregnancy before)—and feeling elastic around my waist was just unbearable. So I wouldn't have made it through the first several months of this pregnancy in my regular leggings, even though that's mostly what I wore when I was expecting Alexander and Zoë. But maternity leggings really are more comfortable than non-maternity leggings; that's just a fact (that I know now).

Anyway, I also got a couple of tunics to go with the leggings. They aren't technically maternity shirts, but I have this thing against buying clothes I'm only going to wear for a few months (which is why I haven't ever bought a lot of maternity clothes). Tunics are something I can wear after Baby is here as well. When I was looking at tunics, a lovely fall-striped one caught my eye but I was going to be pregnant mostly through the summer, so getting a long-sleeved tunic sounded like a bad idea. I chose a short-sleeved one instead and I think I've worn it once a week since it arrived. It's very comfortable.

Things have been cooling off recently, however, and I've found myself still thinking about that fall-striped tunic. So I went ahead and ordered it. Because if you've wanted something from April to October, maybe you should just go ahead and get it.

It arrived today and I tried it on and when Alexander saw me his mouth fell open.

"We match!" he managed to squeak out in spite of his excitement, and he ran to give me the biggest hug.

I hadn't planned on wearing the shirt the whole evening, but...I couldn't take it off now!

Alexander rifled through his toy box until he found his sunglasses (so he could match me even further because I have glasses) and insisted that we both wear flip-flops on our walk (because then our shoes would match). He held my hand the whole way (he's only recently given up the stroller—completely cold-turkey, as is his way (one day he was too little to walk the full mile, but the next day he was plenty big, thank you very much)) and whenever a car drove by he would squish up against me and robotically announce, "CONNECT! Nobody can see me. We are camouflaged. CONNECT!"

He's a goofball.

Here he is saying hello to Phoebe, who has made it past the 34-week mark (by one day). Every day we count our lucky stars that she's still baking away. Even though I'm so over being pregnant, I know that she's better off on the inside.

A boy called Harbinger

We are reading The Legend of Sleepy Hollow together, which has a fairly advanced lexile score, but the kids wanted to do some spooky stories for October so it fits their interest level, if not their reading level. While we read the kids make note of words they don't know (there are a lot) and when we're finished reading they choose some words to explore. 

Zoë, I can see, needs more instruction on how to read definitions of words because she gets very creative with her exercises. She likes to put her vocabulary words into a story, which is fine, but her interpretations of their definitions are comical. 

Here's today's story:

Once there was a spooky anecdote (tale). The boy that was reading it was called Harbinger (Herald). He loved varleting (acting) at the scary parts. When itinerants (travelers) walked and wandered outside searching for shelter he sang and wrote and read: "She had barely practiced (repeated) credulity (willingly). It behooved me at first!"

I was dead after reading the first two sentences. A boy called Harbinger (Herald)?! I had to excuse myself to go laugh (because Zoë does not like to make mistakes and if she knew she had made such an error would have erased the whole page, lickety-split). 

Anyway, we'll be discussing what a herald is (as opposed to a Harold). That word will be coming up again at Christmastime, anyway, I'm sure (Hark! Those herald angels!). 

Google tells us that varlet /ˈvärlət/ is "a man or boy acting as an attendant or servant."

Acting!? Perfect! thought Zoë. I can use that in my story for sure!

She neglected to digest the entire definition, however. It's a person filling the role of an attendant or servant, or, simply, a person who is an attendant or servant (no doubt related to valet). It can also mean rapscallion. 

I think she about grasped the meaning of itinerants. But I don't think practiced was even one of the words we pulled from the text...so I'm not sure why she picked that word.

Merriam-Webster informs us that credulity /krəˈd(y)o͞olədē/ is "readiness or willingness to believe especially on slight or uncertain evidence." Again she stopped reading after "willingness" and ran with that idea, and while I suppose one can practice credulity...this does not show she understands the meaning of the word.

Which, again, is fine because she's six. 

And here's her description Ichabod Crane:

Ichabod Crane was tall and helpful. He was envied by the women because he taught their children and rocked their babies and fed their cattle and wattered [sic] their horses. He looked like a scare-crow and he was a teacher. He is not annoying (Ben said that he was). 

I think she's enjoying the story, even if she doesn't quite understand every little detail. 

Zoë's well-child check

Zoë's been nervous about her well-child check ever since Alexander and Rachel came home moaning and groaning about their vaccinations. This morning, however, Alexander tried to convince her that going to the doctor wasn't all bad!

"You don't have to worry about going to the doctor," he told her over breakfast, "Because guess what! If you are brave and get your shots, Mom will take you to the park after even if you haven't done any of your work for the day. Like, yesterday I didn't do any of my work and Mom still took me to the park. So...that might happen for you today, too!"

That did not happen for Zoë. 

Her appointment wasn't until this afternoon so she had plenty of time to get her morning work done before we left. But we did swing by the park on the way home, just me and her. Which was like actual one-on-one time. And she loved it. 

Anyway, her appointment went well. It was with a different doctor than the one we saw yesterday, which is fine. Technically we can see anyone at the practice. The doctor was a little concerned about Zoë's size because she's tall (3 ft. 9 inches) and lean (40.5 lbs), putting her between the 1st and 2nd percentile for her BMI. So we talked a lot about nutrition.

The funny thing is that I warned Zoë that she should eat her vegetables because the doctor would ask her about it. And what am I supposed to tell the doctor when the doctor asks about it if she never eats her vegetables?! Well, I told the doctor that she is offered vegetables multiple times a day, but whether or not she eats them is a different story. 

Unlike Alexander, Zoë's favourite food is not mixed vegetables.

"Do you eat any vegetables?" the doctor asked.

"I eat uncooked carrots," Zoë said. "And cucumbers and..."

"So some vegetables at least, that's good," the doctor said. 

When the doctor stepped out of the room, Zoë said to me, "I did not know they were really going to check on how much vegetables I eat!"

You'd better believe she ate her vegetables (cucumber slices) this evening. 

Well child visits for Rachel and Alexander

I took Rachel and Alexander to the doctor this morning; they're both healthy, happy kids, though Rachel's blood pressure was a little high. I pulled out her records from last time and her blood pressure was a little high then, as well. But that's just her anxiety kicking in. She hates needles and knew she had shots coming up. 

At 4 years old, Alexander is 39 inches tall (3 feet, 3 inches) and is 31 lbs. 

Long and lean, a little on the small side but following the pattern of his growth curve (which is all that we ask for). He was so brave for his shots (he got three today: chicken pox, MMR, and influenza). When the first shot went in his eyes got really wide, when the second shot went in tears sprang to his eyes and he started his nervous giggling, when the third shot went in he continued his nervous giggles and added a little, "OKAY!" 

He was so done with that!

The nurse could hardly get his last bandaid on; he was scrambling away from her trying to get into my arms.

"All done!" I said. "You were so brave! And—just think!—you won't have to get another shot until next..."

I was all geared up to say "year" but then I realized that...I sincerely hope...he'll be getting another shot within the year so I finished up with "time" instead. 

That sounded far less comforting than I intended it to, but he has no concept of time, anyway.

Rachel actually got her shot first and she did so well. Last night (when she was already nervous about today), she said, "Last time wasn't so bad. And I do so much better than I used to. I haven't bitten a nurse in a long time!"

And it's true. She didn't abuse her nurse one single bit. She just sat on the table and took a deep breath and then it was all over. 

I won't reveal her statistics, since I suppose she's entering that age where she gets to choose what information to reveal. Let's just say that when we were discussing her growth curve the doctor said, "As you can see she grew a lot last year and then this past year she grew even more!" 

Like Alexander, she's also long and lean. Just about as long and lean as I am! But not quite. 

I have a few inches on her yet!

Like...two.

Should have done this 15 years ago...

I survived midterms and now we're flying toward the end of the semester. Only one of my classes has been transparent about assignments—with readings and projects listed out for the entire semester (though there are weekly quizzes)—and I really appreciate it because my other classes release each module week by week. All I want to do is get ahead of the game a little bit so I can be prepared for whenever this baby shows up, but noooooo!

Anyway, yesterday I was talking to my mom and she mentioned that she wished I had done my master's in library science way back in the day. When I was working at BYU they would have paid for it and then it would be over with. But the thing is that I was working and pregnant and the prospect of going to graduate school felt like too much. And it would have been a lot, it's true. 

But also, it would have been much easier than it is to be in graduate school now (while pregnant and working and homeschooling five children)!

That's the beauty of hindsight, though, isn't it? And I suppose my mom could have pushed me more toward that, but in the end kids (even adult kids...especially adult kids) are just going to make the decision they're going to make. And my mom did sympathize with me that it would have been a lot. Being pregnant is hard work and it feels extra hard the first time. Though I also might argue that it feels extra hard the last time, too! Haha! It's not like it's really something you ever get used to. It's kind of just always not quite easy, always a little complicated and fraught and exhausting and...everything.

My mom cheered me on, though, saying that she knows I can do it. Because she also did it—graduate school, with six kids in tow, working, living life in all its...complexity. It wasn't easy, but she did it.

And I was just thinking today about a concert I accompanied my mom to (she had to attend various performances for various classes) and she was dutifully taking notes in her notebook when she fell asleep, mid-stroke, her pen rushing across the page with a whoosh. She jerked awake and we had a quiet little giggle about it (concert etiquette!), but the memory made me feel so sad for my tired mommy, who I'm sure I didn't help as much as I could have, and so grateful for her dedication to her education, and proud of her for working so hard.

Maybe it's the fact that Hamilton is playing in one of the kids' bedrooms, but I kind of just want to sing, "Look at where you are! Look at where you started!"

I'll always be thankful for her example.

Welcome Fall!

We held our autumnal "opening ceremonies" last Monday—on Canadian Thanksgiving—as we usually do. Sometimes we do a fuller Thanksgiving, but other times life seems too hectic for that (like when Daddy has to work and Mommy's diet is so limited) so we did a simple fall meal instead. We had pumpkin soup with some Thanksgiving sides. Now that I think about it, we have instant stuffing in the basement that we probably should have used. Oh, well.

I was in charge of the soup and put Miriam in charge of the cranberry sauce. She decided the recipe on the bag was ridiculous because our family really enjoys cranberry sauce. Surely the yield wasn't enough for our appetites! I did manage to convince her to follow the recipe in the end, which was probably a good thing because the recipe yielded plenty. 

"I think you'll be surprised by how much three cups of berries really is," I warned her. "How many berries are in a package?"

"I don't know..." she said. 

"Ummm...it says 25!" Alexander informed us.

And, indeed, the bag did say 25, though there were a lot more berries in there than 25! 

Verbal nesting

Andrew has pointed out that whenever I open my mouth lately, 99% of the time it's to announce something that I need to do. Or that we need to do. Both of which roughly translate into things I often wish he would do (but I say "we" or "I" out of politeness).

I need to organize these baby clothes.

We need to get the front yard landscaped.

We need to plan Christmas presents.

I need to return books to the library.

I need to go through those boxes.

We need to finish painting the back deck.

We need to trim the ivy off the trees.

I need to... We need to... I need to... We need to...

This list of mine is especially active in the evenings when I'm too tired to actually do anything.

"Calm down," he tells me. "You need to calm down. None of that stuff needs to happen immediately."

"I can't help it!" I told him. "I'm verbally nesting! I don't have the time or the energy to actually nest so I'm just expressing my desire to nest in words."

Alexander's Cake

Alexander's one birthday wish was mixed vegetables. He wanted mixed vegetables for dinner and mixed vegetables for cake. And, you know, that is totally in my power to deliver. 

I love this age! 

It reminds me of the time Rachel brought home a Christmas wish list from school (in kindergarten) and it said "a candy cane." That's it. That's all she wanted. 

I can do that! 

Somewhere along the line, however, kids seem develop this thing called "expectations" and then they start experiencing a thing called "disappointment" because if there's one thing I'm consistent at it's not meeting expectations. But before they have expectations—when they think that an excellent birthday wish is "mixed vegetables" and all they want for Christmas is a "candy cane?" Well, I'm pretty good at making childhood seem magical then.

I say "I," but the magic is really a team effort. Especially right now when I'm so busy being a pregnant grad student person. So Andrew made Alexander's birthday dinner—mixed vegetables, Molly's meatballs (from the Harry Potter cookbook), and mashed potatoes (with leftover cranberry sauce from our Canadian Thanksgiving dinner)—and Alexander was thrilled. He ate mostly mixed vegetables and ignored everything else on his plate, which is par for the course with him.

Andrew wonders where he came from because (a) whose favourite food is mixed vegetables? And (b) who actually wishes for mixed vegetables on their birthday? He had a hard time wrapping his head around such a request, but he's a good dad and came through.

Alexander is four!

Somehow or another, Alexander turned four yesterday! I had a doctor appointment in the afternoon so we opened his presents in the morning (which he declared his favourite part of the day) so that he could have the full day to enjoy them.

Here is is—looking mighty dapper—ready to open his haul:

Outside time

When our schoolwork for the day had been completed—and really both Zoë and Benjamin did great work today (Zoë has started her curriculum for grade two, because why not, and Benjamin actually did his work independently)—I sent the kids outside to play. 

The day was somewhat overcast, so they whined about having to go outside. 

"What if it rains?" they whined. 

"Then we'll see. But it isn't raining. It's only cloudy and you're going outside."

As if they don't enjoy playing in the rain. 

Sometimes they'll go outside and play for hours all on their own choosing. Sometimes I have to force them to go outside and later force them back inside. Sometimes I send them outside and they sneak back inside and down into the basement to play quietly hoping I won't notice. Sometimes—like today—I have to force them outside and they just hate it and it almost makes me wish I hadn't forced them outside.

But also they can't stay inside all day, so...out they went.

They fought and screamed for quite some time and then came inside to very grumpily get some water.

"I'm hot!"

"I have a headache!"

"My throat hurts!"

I gave them a timeout on the carpet while I thought about what to say to them, which was basically that I could hear them fighting and screaming and treating each other horribly from inside the house, which meant that (a) they weren't treating each other very well, which makes me feel sad because they should cherish each other, and (b) all the neighbours could hear their carrying ons as well and that was downright embarrassing! They were behaving abominably! 

And all their hotheadedness was probably what was causing their physical ailments in the first place.

"So you're going to go back outside and try again," I said. "Come up with a way to play together nicely this time."

They hung their heads and slunk out the back door, single file, and I settled down to finish the article I was reading ('cuz momma's got work to do, children). They played quietly for several minutes before coming back inside to ask if I would take a picture of their autumn wreath:

They'd gone around collecting leaves and acorns and twigs and even a snail shell or two and arranged them in a wreath shape because apparently that's a thing that we do somewhat regularly:

And they got along the whole time, so we'll call it a win!

First time on campus

It seems like having Mom be gone all day is a lot less traumatic in the morning after a good night's rest than it is at nighttime when you're sleepy and it's dark outside and you're only imagining the horror. 

Alexander woke up just before we left this morning (Andrew as my trusty (long-suffering) chauffeur) and he...was just fine being left in Rachel's care. And he did fine all day. He completely drained two iPad batteries playing Teach Monster (Read for Fun, or whatever their new program is called), but he did fine all day.

Today was also the day he decided that he could, in fact, simply take himself potty when he needs to go, so I'm hoping we've turned a corner there because he's been terribly dependent on having other people take him potty (the idea of taking himself was somehow repulsive). 

Andrew had a long day in the car (he drove me to campus and then drove home to be with the kids and then drove back to campus to pick me up), but he did get to catch up on a bunch of podcasts. He also went grocery shopping and folded the laundry! And now he's outside weed-eating. I'm sure he'll be working long hours this evening and tomorrow to make up for lost time.

I went inside Aderhold Hall for the first time (that's where the College of Education is) so that I could pick up some flyers. And then I spent the day on Tate Plaza.

This is a picture of me trying to find Tate Plaza:

Distance makes the heart grow fonder

I have to go to campus tomorrow for the very first time, and I have to admit I'm a little nervous. I realized today that not only is my "professional" wardrobe pretty slim pickings, I'm also 32 weeks pregnant. That makes the pickings even slimmer...because I am much less slim than usual. So I'm doing some laundry so that I can cobble together something presentable.

Andrew offered to let me borrow a not-a-diaper-bag, graduate-student-looking bag so that I can carry my necessities for the day (which will be pre-portioned meals, my glucometer, some homework supplies, and maybe some crochet because I do still need to finish Halloween costumes). Mostly I assume I'll be busy (because what I'll be doing is running a booth at a Banned Books Fair), but I'm also hoping I won't be too busy because I haven't gone anywhere public in ages and I'm a little afraid I'll be afraid of people. 

But that's fine because as nervous as I feel, I'm not as nervous as some.

This evening we were playing a game as a family while Alexander drew pictures. He made a lovely little solar system and even fashioned a little cat mask for himself (he loves dressing up and wearing masks). His cat mask doesn't look like it will be very functional, so Miriam suggested that tomorrow they can print out a template and he can colour it and they can make one together and somehow it came out that Miriam would be helping him with this because Mom would be gone all day (alllllll day).

(Note: Miriam will not be "in charge" at any point during the day, but she does have some fun activities planned to do with Alexander, anyway.)

The poor boy about started hyperventilating. Tears welled up in his eyes. His lower lip started to quiver.

"Mom will be...gone?" he whimpered before dissolving into a little puddle of his former self. 

He had so many worries. How would we print a template without Mom here? Mom is in charge of printing things! When we said "all day" did we mean "all day"? And who would be in charge? And how would he get lunch? And who would do reading lessons with him? And...

He had a good long sob into the front of my shirt, drenching us both with tears and snot. 

I'm sure tomorrow will go well for both of us, despite our misgivings.

Shout Hooray! (it was Andrew's birthday...)

I've not been great with documenting birthdays here, but that doesn't mean we haven't been celebrating! Andrew's birthday was only, like, 2.5 weeks ago, so it's not like I'm that far behind. But we need to reclaim our Birthday Tree so we can turn it into our Thankful Tree starting on Monday.

Of course, our tree has a rather busy autumn. It will be a Thankful Tree from Thanksgiving to Thanksgiving, but the kids also want to add a few Halloween decorations to it, and it will have to be a Birthday Tree for Alexander, Miriam, and Phoebe! 

So it's high time we gave its branches a break from Andrew's birthday balloons! 

Our family tends to show affection with a little bit...acerbically...at times. Love with a dose of laughter. Compliments with a hint of cruelty. Sincerity mixed with sarcasm. 

We'll call them inside jokes.

What once was lost now is found

At the beginning of August I bought a set of English-Spanish early readers because we're interested in learning Spanish over here and I figured reading together would help us get more comfortable speaking it together. Zoë was particularly excited about these readers, and on the day they arrived we nestled together in my big comfy chair (with Alexander and, I suppose, Phoebe) and read a handful together. 

Then somehow, despite my best efforts, the books—a boxed set of 25 readers!—ended up in Zoë's room. She swore up and down she would take excellent care of them because she's rather passionate about learning Spanish (despite how poor a Spanish teacher I make), and she did take good care of them...for about a day and a half...and then they disappeared.

Here's a fun fact about me: I don't like when things go missing. 

Missing puzzle pieces make me want to scream. I hate having to search for library books. I wish my kids would just keep their sets of toys together like normal children (or was that just me?). I do my best to simply not think about the ever-growing collection of matchless socks in our laundry room. Once I lost my notes from a lecture I attended online and was frantic for days (Andrew found them just before my paper was due and I was overjoyed).

You'd think that my desire to always know where things are would lead to me being a clean freak, but that's unfortunately not been the case for me. I mean, sure, that might make keeping track of things a lot easier but...keeping things put away with this many people pulling them out all the time is exhausting. So my house is a little disorderly, but usually I know where things are.

We have rules, people!

Þe Olde Poetry Club

Last year a friend of mine was displaced from her home due to the pandemic. She had been living in China, where both she and her husband were teaching English, but they had gone on vacation over the Chinese New Year (I believe they were enjoying Portugal) when China shut down. At first they hung out, having an "extended vacation" of sorts, but soon it became clear that this was not something that they'd be able to "wait out" on vacation. Since China was closed to them, they decided to fly to the States while they could. 

So on a whim, with nothing but the belongings they'd packed for a week-long vacation, they (and their two children) moved in with her parents in Florida. And then they just...stuck around...not knowing what they were going to do or supposed to do or what.

She felt hopeless and lonely and a little bit shattered. 

So she hopped online and asked if any of her friends wanted to be in a poetry club. Specifically she just wanted to share Mary Oliver poems, bask in their beauty, and discuss. 

I had never heard of Mary Oliver (oops?) but I like my friend and was feeling like I could use a community as well, so I said that I was in...depending on the schedule because...life was feeling topsy-turvy for us, too! We were still settling in here in Georgia, figuring out homeschooling, and...I was starting a master's degree.

My friend assured me that it would be 100% asynchronous. We'd just post things on a forum and respond to each other and get to know each other and enjoy some beautiful words. Her friends were just as scattered around the world as mine were, anyway, so planning any sort of virtual meet-up would likely be impossible. 

Sounded good to me.

Uh...it's the weekend...

And...really quickly before I have to go do everything else that I have to do...

Part of my job is monitoring the email account and responding to inquiries and so forth. Which...is fine. Like, I'm decent at email. Never mind that my personal email has 9,493 unread emails. It's fine. I'm good at reading and responding to the important emails. 

This weekend I watched ten hours of general conference, read a book for one of my classes (263 pages), finished a big project for another one of my classes, read a couple of articles for yet another class, started teaching Rachel and Andrew how to crochet, crocheted a hat for Zoë's Halloween costume, and put together a 27-page family newsletter (which involved dozens of emails from relatives spread across the globe—from Sweden to Louisiana to North Dakota, Alberta, and Utah...). In addition to other weekend stuff.

I did not, however, check my work email. 

Because it was the weekend.

And I'm not obligated to respond to work emails over the weekend, right?

So I missed an inquiry that came in on Saturday afternoon. 

But I checked my work email at noon today and—look!—I had a question to answer. So I hit "reply" and was in the middle of answering their question when my computer dinged. I had another email!

I looked to see what it was about and, lo, it was a follow-up from the same person who sent me an email on Saturday afternoon. They were like, "Ummmm...so are you ever going to answer my question?!"

And I was like, "Ummmm...it's noon on Monday. Your question has literally been burning for a grand total of three business hours, friend."

But, of course, I didn't say that in my answer. Those were inside words.

I understand the desire for an instant answer, I do! But I thought this was funny because I'd seen memes about this but had never experienced it in real life until today!

No leftovers!?!

Guys, Facebook is down. 

Regrettably (or not?), Facebook has become where I keep all my brief notes of funny things my kids say because sometimes composing an entire blog post is...daunting...with the few minutes I manage to nab here and there. It's simply a medium that, for me, seems to call for longer-format writing.

All this is to say that it's lunchtime at our house and my children cannot decide what to eat.

"There's no leftovers," they complained. 

And so they didn't know what to have for lunch. 

Don't worry; they've managed. Alexander is having a muffin (leftovers from our conference weekend treats) with vegetables (also leftover from conference) and fruit (conference). Benjamin has made himself a fruit salad (with yogurt and leftover fruit). Zoë had cheese and crackers (again, conference leftovers!). Rachel had a croissant sandwich (did you guess conference leftovers?).

"I just don't know what to eat!" Miriam said, staring into the relatively empty fridge.

In her defense, the fridge is relatively empty. The other kids had eaten most of the leftovers and we have literally no leftover meals in there otherwise (which is unusual for us, but we didn't cook at all on Saturday or Sunday). 

She settled on making herself some scrambled eggs to have with a leftover muffin and strawberries.

But the funny thing is that when our fridge is bursting with leftovers...I have to beg the kids to eat them. When the fridge is full of leftovers my kids say things like, "I'm going to make Ramen!" or "I'll have a sandwich!" or "Oooh! Boxed macaroni and cheese!"

They never willingly dig into leftovers unless I announce that everyone will be having leftovers for lunch.

But today we don't have any leftovers and they were all at a loss...as if we don't have Ramen or sandwich goods or boxed macaroni and cheese today (we do). 

Garbage Caramel and Family History

It's General Conference weekend and the kids are all very excited (in large part, I think, because it means they get special snacks). Rachel stayed up late last night to make caramel sauce to dip apple slices in, but she bragged about how great she was at making caramel sauce first. 

Miriam tried making it a while back (last conference? the conference before?) but it ended up just a syrup. It was light brown, wouldn't thicken at all, and was a disappointing failure, which we told her was no big deal because caramel—while it sounds simple—is very easy to mess up. But then Rachel was like, "I'll do it!" and she did it.

So last night she was teasing Miriam about this, saying that Miriam shouldn't be the one to make the caramel because she'd just mess it up. Rachel would do it. Rachel is good at making caramel. Rachel doesn't understand how people have a hard time making caramel....

Rachel showed up in my bedroom at 10:00 last night, while I was working on the Hancock Hummer, bawling about caramel.

Side note: I have a theory that, if nothing else, grad school makes you more efficient? Because...I feel like I've put this newsletter together relatively quickly...anyway...

Rachel came into my room sobbing. Her face was red and blotching and she had tears streaming down her face. And she'd followed the directions—twice—but both times her sugar seized, recrystallized and the entire pot turned into one solid lump of sugar and she can't figure out why and now the whole kitchen is a mess and she has two pots soaking and no caramel! And she'll never understand how to make caramel or why she was successful in the past and wasn't successful in that moment and...

Fortunately family history was a welcome distraction for her. She wondered about past Hancock Hummers, like what did we say when she was born? And what did my parents say when I was born? 

Wake me up when September ends

It seems like I'm doing well if I can manage to post twice during the week! 

Today I had another prenatal appointment. The nurse that I like was working and asked if I wanted my Tdap booster today or at my next visit (in two weeks...because we're into the single digits now...of weeks left) and since the nurse that I don't like is usually the one working when I come in I said, "Today, please!" to getting the shot because the other nurse had to draw my blood once and she, like, exploded my vein or something (it bled for almost an hour and took forever to heal, with plenty of bruising, pain, and a friendly scar that has yet to leave). 

The shot was fine, but my arm is a little sore. 

Not very sore. Just sore enough that when I move it I think to myself, "Huh...I wonder why my arm is...oh, yeah."

I'm trying not to be forgetful these days but there's just so much to remember.

I've been putting together The Hancock Hummer this evening and Andrew, knowing I was in project mode, came upstairs at 10:00 and sweetly reminded me that it was time for my evening snack. 

I've gotten so used to ignoring my hunger cues and cravings—eating strictly by the clock and calorie/carb count—that if I'm not keeping track of the time then I just forget to eat at all. It's fine (in case you haven't gathered: I kind of dislike gestational diabetes). So technically Andrew came up at 10:10 to remind me that it was time for my snack when he hadn't heard me come downstairs on my own. 

It's a team effort.