Phoebe and Alexander on campus!

One of my earliest memories—or perhaps one of my earliest memory of a memory—is attending a horticulture class at BYU with my mom. 

What I remember remembering is that I was sitting under a desk eating Froot Loops from a little cup. The classroom was dark, except for a screen at the front, which was showing slide projections of various plants. 

That's it. That's the memory. 

After verifying this memory with my mom, I learned that I would have been about two years old when that memory occurred. The teacher of the class was Dr. St. Clair (who I would later work for in the Integrative Biology (or "InBio" as it was then called) department shortly after Andrew and I got married). 

I wonder why that memory stuck with me so firmly through all the many years that it did—and the feeling of the memory as well...just of...feeling content and safe. 

And I wonder what memories my children will take with them moving forward. 

Will Phoebe remember getting to come to campus with me today? She was terribly excited to get to come...only to be required to be still and quiet. She played with her felt boards and drew on her drawing pad quite happily through most of the poetry readings.

4/4 April haiku

I managed to write one haiku a day this month (even if I don't love them all) and I managed to write a 38 page paper for a journal...that was promptly desk-rejected because I didn't anonymize my cover letter (because they didn't say to anonymize it) and because I left my self-citations as "Author, 2023" rather than "Author, Year" (and that mistake is on me because I overlooked that small detail). But I just resubmitted it so I think it should be good. I hope it should be good...good enough to not get desk rejected again. The deadline is today, so...

I spent most of the day crossing things off of a long-neglected do-stuff-around-the-house list. 

I'd been looking for another toddler bicycle seat to try with our bikes because Benjamin would really like to go for more bike rides and the park isn't that far. I mean, it's too far to walk, in my opinion (at least regularly), but it's a perfect distance for biking. 

After submitting my paper I looked at seats on Amazon for a while, intending to measure certain parts of our bikes to see what seats might work with what frames. The last time we scored a bike seat on the Buy Nothing group it worked on none of our bikes. Literally none of them. And we have like 5 adult bikes in our garage to choose from. So that was a bit frustrating. 

We got rid of that one, though, and obtaining a new one has been on the back burner of my mind. 

So I spent some time looking on Amazon.

But then this morning, I opened Facebook and the very first post was someone on the Buy Nothing Group giving away a brand new "universal" toddler seat. What are the odds?! 

Probably higher than you might think.

3/4 April haiku

I'm up against what feels like a pretty big deadline right now (I have a paper due on April 30, not for a class, but to submit to a journal) and it's kind of crushing me right now. But this evening I got to stay at home with the little kids while Andrew took the middle kids to the church for their activities because our big kids are in Europe (and because Benjamin remembered at the very last minute that it was career day and he was supposed to ask his dad to come talk to the kids about what it's like being a professor). 

So instead of writing, I went on a long, dawdling walk around the block this evening, braided a crown of clover flowers, and drew with sidewalk chalk. 

And I don't really regret it because it was time well spent. 

2/4 April haiku

My last post took us from April 1 to April 8, which is 8 days (in case anyone is counting). I already wrote a haiku today, so this post will take us from April 9 to April 16, which is also 8 days. I am well aware that a week is only 7 days long. However, April has 30 days...so I had to have a few collections with 8 days in them (or have four 7-day collections and one 2-day collection and that hardly makes any sense). 

April 9

a dreary morning

against all odds

she asks for milk

Bonus

soggy catkins

curling on the asphalt

a dead snake

1/4 April Haiku

It's National Poetry Month! 

I've trying to write a haiku for every day this month. 

Haiku has become such an interesting form to me (since reading Jane Hirshfield's Ten Windows, which contains such wonderful discussion on Basho). What children are taught in elementary schools about stringent syllabic patterns—and, perhaps, that the poem should have something to do with nature—is woefully inadequate, not to mention slightly misleading. While the three-line rule seems to be sticking rather firmly, the 5-7-5 rule is too...convoluted...to work well in English. Syllables don't matter as much as ideas because in Japanese the poems don't contain 17 syllables but seventeen on. A good haiku makes an observation about the world by means of a surprising juxtaposition...in very few syllables.

(Read more about haiku here, here, or here, or wherever).

So, no—my haiku don't always have 17 syllables. That said, they don't always contain a surprising twist either.

I didn't promise every day's haiku would be a good haiku, did I? 

My purpose, I suppose, is to tell little stories about each day, to remember the month by. So far it's been a gloriously good month for haiku—so much has been happening with nature!

April 1

earth warms—creatures wake,
slink and worm their way inside
the boy's pants—"A skink!"

This post is actually about poetry—Happy Poetry Month!

I am notoriously bad at managing my notifications. It drives Andrew a little bit crazy. 

Right now, according to my computer, I have a manageable 31 unread text messages...but on my phone that number is 187. My phone tells me I have 18,801 unread emails on my personal account...but my computer tells me it's only 7388. I'm not sure what is up with those discrepancies, so who even knows how many unread messages I truly have?

My school email address has 2529 unread messages.

Somehow Andrew's usually able to keep on top of his notifications, but for whatever reason...I just can't. 

We had dentist appointments this week and—I kid you not—we escaped without a single cavity between all six kids and me (Andrew will be going next week). But I did not escape without racking up 43 text messages and 38 email messages all from the dentist's office. 

"Just a reminder..."

"To confirm your appointment..."

"Your appointment has been confirmed..."

"Click to fill out the required paperwork prior to your appointment..."

"Your paperwork is complete..."

"Your appointment is coming up today at..."

"Thank you for scheduling your next appointment with..."

"Did you enjoy your visit? Take some time to leave feedback at..."

Times. Seven. People.

Violets

 

It is spring and the violets are here.

My children offer them
like currency—every petal
says "I love you."

There is no "not," only yes, do.

They are rich and set
flowers in their hair, fumbling
among golden wisps and curls.

Favourite Things Party

I went to the Relief Society Christmas party this evening. It was a dinner, which was awkward, because I didn't want to take off my mask to eat. But I just ate before I went and sat and visited with people while they ate. It was tempting to take off my mask because truthfully I hadn't eaten very much before I left, so I was pretty hungry (it had been a busy day and we only finished with the clubhouse at 6:15 or so, and my ride was picking me up at 6:30), but I stuck to my convictions and kept my mask on.

Because here's the thing: COVID (416,893 deaths/year) is listed as the third leading cause of death in the United States.

I recently saw someone somewhere explain their reasoning for wearing a mask by talking about the other leading causes of death in the United States. There's heart disease (695,547 deaths/year), cancer (605,213), accidents (224,935), and diabetes (103,294), to name a few.

I wear a seat belt, try to eat balanced meals, get regular exercise, refrain from drinking and smoking...

So naturally—of course—I will also wear a mask. 

Anyway, let's just say that the girl I was sitting beside for a good chunk of the party admitted that [a redacted relative] had wanted to come to the party but [redacted relative] was sick...with COVID. And her husband was sick with COVID. And their children were sick with COVID. 

And I was just very happy about my decision to keep my mask on. That's all. 

*****

The second half of the party was a "favourite things" exchange. I...wasn't sure what to bring...because I don't really feel much...passion...about...like...anything? Like, there were women giving passionate monologues about the gift they gave: "This lipstick will change your life!" and "That is the best-scented lotion in the world! Now you, too, can smell like me!" and "You have no lived until you have used a frother!" 

Meanwhile, I can't think of anything that's my favourite of anything. You have a favourite body wash? Neat. I use soap. Like, whatever's-in-the-shower...soap. Soap that I haven't thought about long enough to even have an opinion on. Do people go around actively smelling each other?

Anyway, I know I can't be the only one to struggle with choosing a favourite thing because the gift that I got was a bag of Hershey's kisses and the giver was like, "Yeah. I don't have a cool story about my gift. I just like candy..." And I was like, "Word." Because...I get that.

Choosing something—a favourite something—to give away was agonizing. 

Georgia State Capitol

I still need to bake some pies tonight, so we'll see how far I get in this post before I call it quits for the day. 

Today was our Downtown Atlanta day! Our first stop was a visit to the capitol building, which turned into a big long adventure to find a women's washroom for Zoë. When she mentioned she needed to use the facilities, Phoebe also started chirping about needing to go "Pee! Pee! Pee! Pee!" but she wasn't as much of a problem as Zoë was because Phoebe has no qualms whatsoever about using the toilet in the men's restroom. Zoë, on the other hand, was not as keen on entering the men's room. 

She and I went all over the place and found multiple men's rooms and only one women's washroom...that was closed for renovations...before we caved and asked the nice workers setting up Christmas decorations where we could find the women's washroom.

The man we asked stared at me for a minute in complete confusion.

"Oh! You want the bathroom!" he said. 

"Yes..." I said.

Look, I don't leave my house a lot, so I just call things what I want to call them without fully realizing it might not be what it's called here. Further, when I'm nervous or formal or hanging around my Canadian friends and family, more Canadianisms slip in. This was a case of nervous formality. 

"Excuse me," I'd said. "We're on a bit of a wild goose chase for the women's washroom. Do you happen to know where one is?"

Was that an awkward way to ask? Maybe.

Echinacea on the Mississippi

I have a whole lot to write about, but am still focused mostly just on my thesis (which is officially due on July 10, so wish me all the luck in the world because I'm going to need it). 

My big kids were so helpful with Phoebe today and I got a ton of revisions done, but still have a long ways to go. Fortunately, I succeeded in convincing my advisor that we could simply revise my research question rather than scrapping the entire chapter that I wrote over the last few weeks. So that was good. 

Anyway, today I share some beautiful pictures of echinacea that I took after the Sunset on the Mississippi show in Nauvoo. I've yet to be disappointed by a Nauvoo sunset (in all the, you know, maybe five (?) evenings I've spent in Nauvoo). 

One secret to life, revealed (<--clickbait title)

It'll be our little secret

Don't tell anyone, but when I am suffering from writer's block (when I'm majorly psyched out about my thesis, for example), I open up a Blogger draft and type in there. Because it's soothing somehow. 

I may or may not have 655 words of my thesis saved in a Blogger draft right now. Those 655 words are just a drop in the bucket—for reference, my thesis prospectus is 17566 words (including my references). That translates into 76 pages (and I don't really want to talk about it because writing those 76 pages was hard and made me feel like I wasn't really a writer, or a reader, or a scholar, which is why my thesis itself is only 655 words from today plus the 566 words I wrote a few days ago, so 1221 words total)—but they exist now and they didn't before, so that feels like a victory tonight and so I'm allowing myself to blog about my children...as a treat. 

Will my thesis be finished by next month? Probably not. 

But we're going to just keep putting drops in the bucket—and by "we," I mean "me"—because that's how things get done.

While we were at the park today, Alexander was determined to go across the monkey bars by himself. I helped him across a couple of times, spotting him while coaching him to swing and reach. Then Rachel coached him for a while. And then he attempted it on his own. 

More nighttime poetry

Not that we're a family of night owls...but...

After we put the little kids to bed, Rachel and Miriam begged to play Pandemic because we'd played it last night—and almost won!—and they wanted to see if we could do better tonight. 

Reader, we did not do better tonight. And we play on the easiest setting.

We're rather pathetic at that game, to be truthful. 

But we had fun!

When we finished, we scattered to do various activities. I went upstairs to work and noticed that Benjamin was still up reading, so reminded him to go to bed. Andrew retreated to his office to...work (or do BCC stuff). Rachel returned to the hot chocolate bombs she was making. And Miriam returned to her sewing (she's making a doll dress currently). 

I thought the younger three kids were all—miraculously—asleep. 

But when I turned on my computer I had a text message pop up from Zoë (sent at 10:13 PM):

The pencil poem
  he pencil poe
    e pencil po
       pencil p
         encil
           nci
               i
             __

I...am always just floored with what she manages to come up with sometimes. The only thing I would change is that I think the "c" is technically the middle letter, not the i. 

So "after" bedtime, we played a game, sewed a dress, wrote a poem, made hot chocolate bombs, snuck in some reading time, and accomplished several hours' worth of work!

UPDATE: She admitted this was a poem she was recalling from a book called My Dog Ate My Homework?? Or something...?

The Canada Goose

Every spring and every fall
I’d hear geese call and call and call.

I’d watch them fly in v-formation
Seeking out some habitation— 

A pond, a lake, a riverbed,
A place to rest both wing and head.

All summer long, I’d dodge their droppings
And check in all their nests for goslings,

Careful not to make them angry
(My geese are known for being cranky).

They’d molt, and raise their brood, and then
I’d hear them call and call again

As they winged their way down south
To their mysterious winter house.

I always wondered where they hid
While my cold home was bleak, frigid.

And then I left the wild, free North
And travelled wide this splendid earth. 

While I was blessed and pleased to wander
I missed my friends, both goose and gander.

For years I did not hear their call
No hiss, no honk. No call at all.

And then I settled in a place
Oft left untouched by snow’s embrace,

A place with summers sweltering hot
A place with lots of people—lots!

A place that felt so big and foreign
I wasn’t sure I’d ever fit in.

But then the autumn sky brought geese
Who showed me they are just at ease

In cityscape as countryside,
Which comforts me, I must confide

Now every spring and every fall
I hear geese call and call and call.

It matters not how far they've flown—
They're home. I’m home. 

I’m home, 

I’m home.

École en plein air

 

We did most of our schoolwork at the park today, packing along our lunch and all of our books and half the house. Today was our first lovely day of spring; I hope we have many more before the weather turns hot and humid. We try to enjoy perfect weather when we can. 

This particular park is one that many people have told me is "sketchy," and I can't figure out why they think so because Jones Bridge Park is kind of the "popular" park to go to and I think that park is sketchy. I mean, I actually think both parks are fine, but this particular park's bathrooms never (or, at least, rarely) ever smell like...teenagers have been using them as a hideout to smoke illicit drugs...while Jones Bridge Park's bathrooms routinely do. I'm just saying...

Besides, Jones Bridge Park is so popular that it can be hard to find space to be alone. This other park is a lot less popular, so while we did have several people walking the trails beside our picnic table, we didn't have to compete to find a picnic table (and when we went to play at the playground we had it all to ourselves, which is important when you're social-distancing).

Valentine Limericks II

Five years ago, I wrote some Valentine limericks and decided last night that I'd write another set. It's almost like a tradition...that occurs every five years...

They're not great but they're what I came up with while I was in the hall waiting for Zoë to fall asleep (until, like, midnight) last night.