Lost, lost, lost...

There's a woman who walks

her dog, a pinwheel spinning

on a leash. Whimsy, she calls

her. The dog leaps around

in endless circles, not knowing

forwards from back. And neither

does she. Up and down the street

she walks, always the same route.

But not today. Today she deviates—

lured astray by cheerful breezes,

a screech of hawk in the sky, a pop 

of daffodil against sepia lawn. Today

she spreads wings, explores, reaches

out her finger and rings the bell. A boy 

no more than four answers the door

and in she goes, Whimsy in tow,

to a place she's never seen. "What

is going on?!" shrieks the woman

of the house. "Who are you? Why

are you in my house?!"

"Who are you?" the woman echos.
"I'm looking for Kay." 

"Let's take this outside."

"It's a beautiful day."

"Sit here on the wall. I need to find help."

A springy Thursday

I asked Phoebe to not pick the daffodils this year. 

The blooms tend to last longer when they're outside (at least when I'm in charge of taking care of cut blossoms). But naturally she picked one of the very first daffodils to bloom and brought it to me. 

A delightful gesture, really. 

First Ever "Christmas in February" Concert!

We have certainly been slacking off with formal piano lessons this semester but last semester we were on top of things! We had nearly weekly lessons and were so prepared at Christmas that Alexander was playing the piano every chance he got...and yet somehow we never sat down to do a little recital. 

Oh, his sisters had their fair share of performances. We attended and performed at concerts and at church. We sang songs around the piano at Grandpa and Darla's house. We sang songs around our own piano. 

And yet Alexander and I never recorded our Christmas duets.

Alexander has been very good at self-directed piano study the past couple of months. He's moving through his book and learning songs. We have impromptu lessons (where someone will hear him making a mistake while practicing and will run in to intervene because we all know these primer songs forwards and backwards, having been through them ourselves...and then over and over again with each child...) but so far nothing formal. He's been pleased with his progress, and yet...he's been hanging onto his Christmas books.

All the other Christmas books have been filed away on the shelf until the next season, but his Christmas books have remained in rotation because we still needed to film our duets!

First it was okay because it wasn't Christmas yet. And then it was only Boxing Day. And then it was just that liminal space between Christmas and the New Year. And then it was still Christmas somewhere because Three Kings Day (Epiphany) was still coming up, and Orthodox Christmas. And then...the semester started...but it was all snowy outside and that was kind of Christmassy. And then we were a month post-Christmas...and then...well...we're more than two months post-Christmas and it's beginning to feel like we're putting things off.

Alexander even asked Daddy to buy a special cord we could plug into the piano so that we could record from the piano to our device, cutting out any potential Phoebe noises. And the cord came. And then it was, "Oh, we have to learn how to use it first..."

Running and handedness

 Zoë drew a picture of a runner the other day, which she decided was me. I am wearing gloves because she messed up on the hands. But I think it turned out pretty great!

Ambiguous headlines

The other day there was a news story with the headline "Rafter is briefly ‘swallowed’ by whale in Chile, as his father films" and...I don't know if my brain has simply been doing too much lately, but I could not parse these words. I had questions, but I didn't quite have time to delve into the story so I simply said, "Huh," and moved on. 

First of all, I couldn't really understand what a whale was doing swallowing a rafter, or what the rafter was doing in the ocean in the first place. Perhaps—and hear me out—some debris left over from a hurricane. Like, a house got swept out to sea, dashed to bits, and...there are rafters just floating around like well-milled logs.

And, I mean, if I were a whale trying to swallow a rafter, I'd probably only attempt that briefly as well. 

Surely a rafter is a choking hazard. 

Like swallowing a toothpick....or a stick-stick.

Anyway, what I really couldn't figure out was how the father was filming this. 

Speaking through song lyrics

Phoebe once had this set of "Baby Yoda" dresses that she'd wear practically every day. Baby Yoda was her favourite animal for a time there. She adored him. 

But those dresses got too small for her, so I put them aside.

And then our Star Wars-loving neighbours up the street had a baby girl. So we gave them the Baby Yoda dresses. And now Phoebe is obsessed with the idea of giving this sweet baby everything. 

Whenever something gets too small for her she always asks if we can give it "to the little girl who lives down the stream."

I know she's talking about the neighbour's baby. 

But I think she's combining (1) "Baa, baa, black sheep" with (2) the concept of the baby living "down the street" with (3) "Row, row, row your boat." She says it in such a sing-song manner. 

I think she is purposely using "Baa, baa, black sheep" because that is mostly the tune that it sounds like. She fluently can substitute girl for boy in the song, but then she gets to the lane part—but who even knows what a lane is?!

She doesn't. 

But everyone keeps saying the baby lives "down the street." So I think she's attempting to substitute "street" for "lane," but then her knowledge of "down the stre..." from "Row, row, row" kicks in and she ends up with "little girl who lives down the stream" instead.

It's delightful.

Obsessing over abscesses

While online conferences sound good in theory, I'm not so sure they are good for me in practice. The last time I was supposed to present at an online conference (NAMLE 2024), it ended up being the same weekend that the girls had to take the ACT. So Andrew took them there and left me home with the kids...who were throw-up sick. 

Today was the Children's Literature Assembly (CLA 2025) conference and I was scheduled to present on religious literacy and...

Lately

Phoebe just came up to me to ask, "When those three little kittens who lost their mittens found their mittens and then began to cry...were those just happy tears?"

Because, you see, finding your mittens is a reason to rejoice, not a reason to sorrow.

*****

When Phoebe asks for songs, she often goes on and on and on before letting anyone start singing.

"Can you sing to me how much is that doggy in the window, the one with the waggly tail?" or "Can you sing to me Joseph Smith walked to a grove full of trees, seeking God's wisdom he fell to his knees. As he pled with the heavens the sky filled with light?" or "Can you sing to me I am a child of God and he has sent me here, has given me an earthly home with parents kind and dear. Lead me, guide me?" of "Can you sing to me ABCDEFGHIJKLMNOP?"

We've got to introduce her to the concept of "short title." 

*****

The kids were just investigating a spider in the staircase. 

Phoebe-isms

Alexander is huge into jokes right now and rather appreciates when he stumbles across new material in a good joke book. In fact, he's mentioned his little joke books so many times that Phoebe has picked up on it and when she wants people to listen to one of the little jokes she's drummed up she shouts out, "Hey! Listen to me! I've got a joke book!"

*****

Many of my children have understood and said "soak and wet" instead of "soaking wet," so many that sometimes we opt to say "soak and wet" ourselves.

Phoebe has a similar "-and-"construction that she uses. Instead of saying "Duolingo," which all the children (and I) have been engaged in for hundreds if not thousands of days (my current streak is 2095 days). 

She says "do-and-lingo."

Sometimes when the kids and I are all busy with schoolwork she will take it upon herself to get down an iPad and open to one of her little games (she has Teach Monster, Baby Dress Up, Daniel Tiger, a puzzle app, and some train track game at her disposal). When we find her with it, she'll say innocently, "I'm just doing maff hour" (math hour), or "I'm just doing do-and-lingo."

Schoolwork doesn't count against screen time, you see? (Not that we're very good at tracking or enforcing such a thing as screen time). 

*****

Alexander said family prayer this evening. In what may have been the middle of his prayer, but which ended up coming very near the end he said, "And please help Phoebe to stay in her own bed and stay dry.." 

Phoebe gasped with indignation.

"LIKE I USUALLY DO!!"* she shouted towards the heavens.

Building towers

While I was getting some work done this afternoon the kids built a marble run behind me. Phoebe explained that this was a good thing because they built a marble catcher so that way the marbles wouldn't end up all over my room...but as you can see...there are marbles all over my room.

A play in The Cellar and...an announcement

Anyone who has ever complained about the (now-demolished) HFAC on BYU campus has never been to the Fine Arts Building on UGA campus. True, the HFAC was larger—by far—than the Fine Arts Center on UGA campus, more labyrinthine. To be fair, the Harris Fine Arts Center housed all the arts, not only drama. UGA has lovely concert halls, I'm sure. But I am equally sure I saw plays at The De Jong Concert Hall, for example, which seated 1268 people.

UGA's Fine Arts Theatre, on the other hand, seats a mere 678.

The Arena seats 100.

And The Cellar—that's where we were—seats 40. 

Forty people.

In The Cellar.

The building was completed in 1941—approximately 25 years before the HFAC was built, and yet it lives on in its charmingly decrepit way. And I'm 95% positive it's haunted (though it has yet to make a single list—wait, the Fine Arts Building is on this list and this list, so...a few lists).

The walk down to the cellar was...long...and winding...and eerie. Random drips. Open panels. Deserted hallways. 

But we found our way to the theatre and were stunned to walk into a classroom. This set was so well done it took us a moment to realize we were looking at a set!

I'm going to beat...

This week has been incredibly busy. Our typical weekly marathon (Monday evening class for me, Tuesday evening class for me, Wednesday mutual night for the kids, Thursday evening class for Andrew) was extended to Friday because Rachel and I went to a play on campus (more about that later), which grew to us being on campus all day long because there was a DEI conference earlier in the day that I was debating going to...and then did go to. So Rachel and I spent all day on campus on Friday.

And then Andrew and I went to the temple today. 

And we're finally feeling like we're settling down to breathe a little (though I'm getting my music lessons ready for tomorrow and Miriam's getting ready to go to a dance and Rachel is out celebrating a friend's birthday, et cetera, et cetera, et cetera).

All that is to say that I have a lot to do and a lot to write about and that I've hardly seen my children in the last day and a half. 

Phoebe came to give me a hug in the middle of the time she should have been putting dishes away, and the poor child was freezing! She'd been wearing a t-shirt all day and was just...chilly.

"You're cold!" I pointed out. 

"Oh, yeah!" she shrugged. "I am!"

"Would you like to put a sweater on?" I asked.

"Ummm...I do!" she decided. 

"Go grab one. I'll help you put it on."

"Okay!" she said, racing away from me to her room. "I'm going to beat myself!"

We're still not sure whether or not she managed to beat herself, but she did choose a sweater to put on, and I imagine is feeling much better. I know I'm prone to feeling grumpy if I'm too hot or too cold. 

Take a look, it's in a book

It rained all day yesterday and it's been raining all day today. And so of course...we have discovered new leaks in our house.

We literally have people on the roof spreading a tarp right now. Water is coming down in front of the front door, too. Like on the outside of our house. But, like, it's a covered porch so that really shouldn't be happening. So mostly I just want to cry. 

This house has been at once perfect for our family and also a complete nightmare. 

And I don't really want to talk about it right now. 

So instead I will tell you that today I sat Phoebe down for her first formal reading lesson. Don't worry; it's a very gentle program. We start with sounds and word games. She had a lot of fun. 

But first she cried. 

Он идëт

The words Phoebe knows are sometimes shocking to me. 

We've had to have talks with our big kids about keeping their language sweet and kind and preschool because, oh boy! 

It's nothing terrible, as Rachel has noted (Phoebe's #1 insult is "rude"). But I still don't love these words spilling out of my sweet baby girl's mouth. 

For example...

This morning Rachel was helping Phoebe pick out an outfit and thought the outfit Phoebe had picked out was "weird" (a dress and pants, which I think is a fine outfit for a three-year-old). 

"I like weird," Phoebe told her. 

"Fine," Rachel said. "Wear your weird outfit."

"You're a little idiot," Phoebe hissed. 

It's the little things

The Buy Nothing Group has been amazing this last little while. Not only did we adopt Gary, but we also got this cool teeter-totter and some supplies for a Nerf gun battle the young men in our ward want to have. We've also given away a stroller and hopefully our water table will be picked up tomorrow (as it turns out...I am not a water table parent and my kids are not water table kids—my children do not demurely splash in water...it's all or nothing for them). 

This post isn't about the Buy Nothing Group, though I do have some pictures of my kids enjoying their new-to-them teeter-totter:

This post is about granting wishes, however.

A possum and two-year-old sour cream

We've been finding little clues that something had taken up residence in the garage—little logs of scat, little puddles of urine, that kind of thing, often a scrambling about when the garage door opens...

So today we decided that today was the day we'd clean out the garage, figure out where our little mystery buddy was hiding, and evict them. 

Andrew guessed it was a bunny...but only because he wanted it to be the least scary animal possible.

I told him that it couldn't be a bunny...or a squirrel...or a chipmunk...because the poop was simply too big. I hoped it wasn't a raccoon (mostly because I didn't want to have to corner a raccoon in my garage, but also because the scat was always loose, and raccoons tend to poop a more organized fashion—they make latrines, which they consistently use) and was fairly certain it wouldn't be a fox or anything like that, so I settled on an opossum. 

This was the best case scenario for cornering an animal in the garage because possums are not  threatening creatures at all.

Benjamin was the hero of the day—we sent him out into the garage to move some things around while Andrew took the little kids shopping and I attended some morning sessions of the JoLLE conference. I was soon interrupted by Benjamin, who rushed into the house loudly confirming that it was a possum and it's in the wheel barrow!

Hello, little friend!

Possums are interesting creatures because (1) they eat a lot of ticks, (2) they don't typically get rabies, (3) they are resistant to snake venom, (4) they have prehensile tails, and (5) they're the only marsupial in North America. They're good little friends to have around!

Just maybe not in the garage.

Wild things

For your viewing pleasure, here is an elephant that Phoebe created this morning: 

She used paint, markers, glue, and googly eyes.

New hair, who dis?

This afternoon while I was trying to get some reading done and Phoebe was feeling too scared to play outside with her siblings because there were dark, angry storm clouds gathering in the sky (that just sailed right on by without a spilling a drop), I let her put about a million barrettes in my hair. 

Valentine Exchange (and a poem on Executive Orders)

Not only did we have the excitement of getting a bearded dragon to contend with this morning, but we also had to walk Luna (which we usually don't have to do on Wednesdays, but needed to do this week), and we had to walk her early because we had to get to co-op early for the Valentine exchange that we had beforehand. 

It was a busy Wednesday...and then got busier with piano for Zoë and organ for Miriam, and activity days for Alexander and Zoë, and a temple trip for Benjamin, Miriam, Rachel, and Andrew. Luckily it was just as crazy for our friends the Fitzes—they dropped their youth off at our house and Andrew drove all the youth to the temple and they picked up Alexander and Zoë for activity days since they're the activity day leaders, which left just me and Phoebe at home. On Tuesdays we hardly see each other at all, but on Wednesdays we are stuck together like glue, Phoebe and I.

We haven't participated in a Valentine exchange since exiting the public school system, so I was sorely out of practice. We signed Valentines for Family Home Evening on Monday and it was a real slog, let me tell you. Approximately 30 children participated in the Valentine exchange, which meant my four co-op children signed approximately 120 Valentines between them. It was...taxing. 

But I have to say—we came away with a lovely haul. 

I remember feeling like a bit of a curmudgeon about Valentine's Day back in 2019. To be fair, that was our first Valentine's Day after Karen passed away...and Valentine's Day is her birthday...so none of us were feeling super pumped about Valentine's Day.

But also! The. Amount. Of. Candy. my kids came home with. It was absurd!

Not so in our homeschool group! We had a few rice krispy treats, some muddy buddies, an orange...some erasers...stickers...pencils... Our family put a little frisbee in each Valentine box (they were leftover from the Anderson family reunion...in 2015...so I figured it was a good time to finally offload them). It was a lovely. I mean, a few candies here and there might have been okay. 

But nobody needs 10 boxes of conversation hearts. 

Anyway, I'm just saying, we ended up with different things at this Valentine exchange than I imagined we would. And it was lovely.

One little boy even crocheted a little whale for everyone. He made thirty of these things! And they were a huge hit. Everybody loved them. And he felt so happy that he was able to spread so much joy (even if his fingers were aching). Here's Phoebe with her whale:

Gary

We did our best to be productive this morning. It was a co-op day, first of all, which always makes it difficult for us to get all our "work" in (as ridiculous as it might be for me to even feel that we need to get all our work in and go to co-op...where we also learn things). Second of all, we had a surprise coming that morning and the kids were buzzing with anticipation.

But they really did do their best to get some work done (some being the key word).

Here's Alexander reading Phoebe some stories on the bed while I got a little work done this morning:

Who's that wonderful girl? Could she be any cuter?

Zoë got some hair chalk for Christmas. 

Phoebe found them the other day and gave herself a makeover.

And now for something completely different!

Last night we waited to have dinner until after my class. Sometimes we do, sometimes we don't. It depends on how the day goes, who is making dinner, and the level of everyone's hunger. My class gets out at 6:00 so it's not like it makes for a super late supper, but sometimes we like to eat earlier. 

Anyway, Zoë made dinner all by herself while I was in class. She greeted me precisely at 6:00 to tell me so.

"Mmmmm," I said, sniffing the air. "Smells like spaghetti."

"Well, it's not spaghetti!" she said. 

"Oh!" I said in surprise (because it really smelled like spaghetti). "What is it?"

"Something different!"

"But what?"

"You will just have to find out!" she sang, practically dancing out of my bedroom/office.

I followed her downstairs and found a steaming pot of...cavatappi...on the table. 

Cavatappi is a noodle shape. 

So essentially spaghetti.

And it was delicious.

Wild Robot

Rachel and I left the house...when it was still dark...to spend the day on campus...on a Saturday...because I had a meeting for the Georgia Children's Book Award. It was a long day!

When I got home, Zoë happily chirped that the books she'd ordered had arrived and she'd already finished reading Wild Robot and that Daddy said we could have a movie night to watch it tonight even though no one else had read the book yet. 

Phoebe and Daddy had spent the day in the kitchen making pretzels (each one got a kiss from Phoebe, but don't worry because after the kiss they were boiled and then baked) and some, like, babka or something (almost cinnamon rolls, but not quite), so the house smelled delicious, and anything sounded good for dinner after our Friday evening YOYO fail. 

I came home from the meeting carting a wagon full of books—library books that I'd checked out and kept away from the kids so I knew I'd have them all for our meeting, and a couple extra books from our meeting that I was able to take home. And then Andrew was nice enough to run to the library for me to return some books that were due soon and to pick up my holds that were expiring soon, while I took the kids out for a walk to stretch our legs and our eyes, even though all they wanted to do was sit around and read. 

They're like little book vultures.

YOYO*...oh, no.

Our dishwasher broke this week (because...why not?). 

Was I grateful for that dishwasher? Immensely. 

Was it my favourite dishwasher in the world? Not remotely. 

So when we got an estimate for how much it would cost to fix it versus how much it would cost to simply get a new machine...guess what we went with. 

Is that environmentally friendly? I honestly don't think so. 

Do I know why manufacturers make machines that aren't easily repairable? Absolutely not.

I mean, I understand that it ultimately means more money for them, but it really feels like it would be better for everybody if these things were simply...easy to repair. 

*****

We're about a month into the semester and things are heating up. Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday is once again an absolute marathon. 

The dishwasher broke on Monday—and for once not after I had touched it last (both the stove and the washing machine died after I touched them last but the dishwasher is not on me!). 

On Tuesday (my long day on campus), Andrew ordered pizza for dinner.

On Wednesday we had leftovers.

On Thursday we had leftovers.

On Friday our new dishwasher was delivered and installed and...we had leftovers.